#I dunno I just like the idea of hanging out with god. feels more earned than like a final battle or smth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taelme · 4 years

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Enemies-to-lovers!(demigod)Hyunjin

request: Hey :) I just really want to read something about Hyunjin if that's fine with you. I'm kind of a sucker for this whole enemies to lovers thing too lol but it would also be super cool if it could be something with fantasy. I don't really know 😅 I think if you're going to write it it would be good anyway. genre: enemies-to-lovers!au (kind of, i feel like it wasnt that extreme but more of a dislike-to-lovers lol), demigod!au (fluff, slight angst? its rly not much, a lot of confusion on reader’s part) pairing/s: Hyunjin / Reader (fem) (ft some skz, nct and got7 members!) word count: 18k+ tw: mentions of blood and (sword)fighting a/n: thank you to anon for being so patient again...its really taken me really long to think of something for this haha i kind of wanted to tap on Hyunjin’s like personality a little more for this like the side of him that’s very like in tune with his emotions or whatnot but idk if i emphasised that a lot but thats just a fun fact lol anyway there was a whole lot of thought exposition in this but this was very much a mix of information based off my existing knowledge of greek gods and the percy jackson series but i hope i explained it clearly enough so even if you’re not familiar with it you won’t be too confused while reading!

You wondered if you should’ve been scared when you’d awoken to the sound of your friend Jeongin waltzing into your cabin, the echo of ‘love is a many splendored thing’ coming from his lips as he meandered his way around the much more intimidating daughters of Ares in your room.

“Didn’t know they still allowed you in here,” you huffed, rolling your eyes but not without the small smile playing at your lips as you rolled over, sighing into your pillow and making space for Jeongin to flop belly-down onto your bed.

Ignoring your comment (not without sticking his tongue out at you for good measure), Jeongin’s smile had only grown as he supported his head with his hands.

You huffed, bringing a hand up to rub at your eyes, not being able to find it in you to be annoyed that he’d interrupted your sleep, “are you just gonna smile at me or are you gonna actually tell me what happened?”

Jeongin wrinkled his nose slightly, “guess,” he whispered.

“You...” you frowned, rolling over onto your back, hugging your pillow closer to your head, your eyebrows knitting into a thoughtful frown, “finished your painting?”

Shaking his head, Jeongin hummed, “better.”

“Better?” you echoed, “did you get elected for something... or something?” you yawned, trying your luck at this point, having close to no idea what he was so smiley about.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, though his grin remained, a small giggle leaving him, “give up?”

You nodded, “yeah, give up.”

“Someone’s back in the Poseidon cabin for the summer.”

You figured you might as well milk it while you could, pretending to not know who Jeongin was referring to as you pouted, “Who? Chan?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, again, “don’t play dumb, you know who i’m talking about.”

You sighed, stretching your arms out above your head, dumping your act of ignorance (acting was never your strong suit anyway), “and what do you expect me to do about that?”

“You don’t have to do anything, technically,” Jeongin shrugged, “he’ll probably approach you first.”

You made a face, not liking Jeongin’s implication at all.

Jaehyun was just a friend you’d made from a few years before. Sure, he was friendly, and Jeongin did always point out the fact that he’d always somehow end up in the same area as the both of you, but you never read into it, having never felt anything romantic towards him at all in your time knowing him. After all, even if you wanted to, the last you heard (if the Aphrodite sisters were to be trusted for gossip) was that he had a girlfriend back home.

“Not funny, Jeongin.”

Jeongin scoffed, “who said I was trying to be funny?” he tried, failing to hold his expression of feigned offence as a bout of giggles escaped him, “okay, fine, maybe I was, but still, you have to admit that you know it’s gonna happen at one point.”

“What’s gonna happen?” you said with a scoff, sitting up in your bed as you let out another yawn.

Jeongin narrowed his eyes at you, “you know what i’m talking about,” he shrugged, making you groan. Trust him to be specific.

Getting out of bed, you brought a hand up to rub your shoulder, rolling your shoulders back with a wince, “I didn’t think he was gonna come back, honestly.”

Jeongin shook his head insistently, “think about it, if he already graduated... he’s probably only back because...” Jeongin gestured towards you, his eyes wide and full of implication.

“Shut up, Jeongin,” you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you in spite of the part of you that was very much averse to his implication.

“Anyway, what are your plans later?” you asked him, eager to divert his attention elsewhere, earning a long hum from him.

You turned to see him fiddling with the corner of your bed sheet, frowning at the faint sound of rock music he could hear coming from the other rooms.

“Haven’t decided,” he sighed deeply, “might go back and finish up my painting... you?” You’d walked around your bed, “probably go and train or something,” you shrugged.

Jeongin made it a point to yawn loudly, “shouldn’t have expected anything else. Why don’t you join me one of these days after the game’s over?”

“Yeah, of course I will, I just wanna get... used to it before the game. It’s been ages since I touched my sword,” you made to pick up your things to freshen up, Jeongin deciding that would be his cue to leave, bidding you goodbye (but not without a smothering hug).

Don’t get you wrong, you were thankful for Jeongin. A son of Hebe, he’d been at the camp longer than you had, and he’d taken the liberty of befriending you after a particularly amusing run-in during a game the previous summer where you’d accidentally torn a hole in his pants with your sword at a pretty unfavourable area.

Not to mention how the boy was one of the few that dared to tread within Ares grounds. Being the son of the goddess of youth, you should’ve figured it was natural for him to be so personable to others (not to mention the fascinating way he looked so youthful), but you were thankful for it nonetheless. Not many people considered it a want to look past the barbed wire and screaming red motifs that seemed to surround the children of the god of war.

Though a part of you wished you could’ve joined Jeongin for a peaceful morning doing art while overlooking the lake, you were a little glad you didn’t, because as you sparred, you remembered just what felt so freeing about being in the field, a sense of anticipation building within you as you thought about the first capture-the-flag game of the summer coming up in a few days.

“Did you hear?” Yuta, another son of Ares, had asked you while the both of you practiced your archery.

You sighed, rolling your neck back before narrowing your eyes at the target again, “hear what?”

“Wait, look, look there, the new Aphrodite kid. Heard he was claimed a few days ago,” Yuta nodding his head towards the direction of the mess hall, and you spotted a small group of boys and girls making their way towards the mess hall.

It wasn’t hard to tell they were Aphrodite’s children, from the way they dressed so elegantly, to the way they carried themselves, as if nothing in the world could shake them or put a single hair out of place.

Something about the effortless nature of it all seemed so unreal to you, especially since you were stood there with your flyaway hair sticking out no matter how much you tried to keep it in place.

“Can’t say I didn’t see it coming, something about him was always more... mesmerising,” Yuta continued, with yourself busy observing the group of them.

“That one? Wasn’t he already here for a while already?” you gestured to one of them who was walking in the middle, rolling the sleeves of their shirt to their elbows with a sheer grace you couldn’t understand, his hair slightly longer than you’d remembered seeing it the previous summer.

Hyunjin was his name, if you remembered what Jeongin said correctly. Who were you kidding, of course you remembered.

The daughters of Ares in your bunk talked about him all the time, even if they didn’t show it. Almost every day you’d hear new things about him, as if it was your daily dose of the news. Something about him being a dancer, or something about a song he was listening to, even what movie he watched recently, none of which you bothered to actually commit to memory like they did.

Widely admired, was the term to describe it. You guessed you could understand why, his looks were pleasing to the eye, but there wasn’t much else you could draw from his personality, so you figured that was it for you. After seeing his sisters, and how... lovely they could be at times, you didn’t think there was much else to figure out.

“No, idiot, the other one walking at the front, he’s basically glowing,” Yuta clicked his tongue in annoyance, and your eyes had landed on the boy, shorter and definitely younger than Hyunjin, but no less beautiful. Looking even closer, you realised he was glowing, unmistakably a very Aphrodite way of claiming him as her son.

You frowned, turning back to Yuta, “that’s a lot prettier than how Ares claimed us, isn’t it?” you laughed, “why are you so interested anyway? It’s not the first time you’re seeing someone get claimed,” you dismissed him, drawing another arrow and firing it at the target, a small smile of satisfaction on your face when it hit the center.

Yuta shrugged, his hand coming up to flick his hair away from his eyes, “dunno, just thought it was cool. Since that means he’ll be on our side for the games too,” he explained, clearly having abandoned his archery practice with the way he’d let his bow hang loose next to his side, swinging it as he stood next to you with a hand on his hip.

“I don’t have very high hopes for that,” you murmured, shooting another arrow at the target, Yuta letting out an impressed low whistle at the thud, “they don’t strike me as the... fighting type.”

Yuta rolled his eyes, “are you done soon? I’m hungry,” he frowned, “and by the way, I'd be careful what I say about Aphrodite’s kids.”

You flashed him a tight-lipped smile, sceptical about his insistence, “what are they gonna do, smolder me to death?”

Yuta rolled his eyes, a scoff leaving him, “well they probably could. Look, if anything, I'm more afraid of their powers than Poseidon’s kids.”

You couldn’t help yourself from the face you made at the mention of the water-wielding demigods, earning a small grunt of amusement from Yuta, only then realising what he could’ve gotten from your expression.

About to interject, Yuta had continued, “I’m guessing you heard Jaehyun’s back?”

You sighed deeply, recalling your conversation with Jeongin that morning, nodding as you made your way back to the Ares cabins with Yuta strolling calmly next to you. Keeping your footsteps brisk, you dumped your armour onto the floor next to your bunk while Yuta did so with his as well, meeting him back at the door and leaving the cabin just as quickly as you came, still having not found an answer to Yuta’s question.

Though as you were busy forming a response to him, you felt yourself getting annoyed, or heavily annoyed for that matter, turning to Yuta with a scowl.

“Stop doing that,” you scolded him, making him raise his hands in a shrug, feigning nonchalance.

“What? You didn’t answer my question,” he defended, making you narrow your eyes at him, relieved when the feelings of anger and annoyance had diffused out of you within a matter of seconds.

“Thank you,” you sighed.

If you had to choose, that was one of your least favourite amongst Ares’ gifts. Sure, being skilled at fighting and the strength you had was a pro, of course. But being able to manipulate someone’s feelings of rage and fear was not something you found very necessary.

Unless you were Yuta, of course, and used it for the sake of getting someone’s attention.

“Why does everyone keep telling me about Jaehyun?” you blurted eventually, making Yuta shoot you a pointed look.

“He’s a legend, it’s basically our duty to talk about him,” Yuta snickered, grabbing your hand to pull you towards the mess hall as if deciding that your speed wasn’t fast enough for him.

“What’s so exciting about him?” you scoffed, letting Yuta lead you to a table where you saw your friends already seated, not missing the way Yuta had shoved you aside with his hip in his attempt to be seated closer to Ten, one of the sons of Aphrodite.

Seeming to have forgotten about Jaehyun, Yuta had focused on his conversation with Ten, leaving you to eat in peace.

“Hey, just came from practice?” you heard Seungmin ask you, taking a seat facing you while you tried to ignore the way Hyunjin had taken a seat next to Ten at the same time, his proximity making it harder for you not to look at him.

Turning to the said son of Athena, you nodded (albeit distractedly), earning a soft smile from him, “same here. Are you excited?”

Assuming he was referring to the games, you offered him a small shrug, “I guess, kind of curious to see how the new Ares kids handle it,” you tried your best to remain nonchalant even though you could hear Yuta asking the newer Aphrodite kid what he liked about being one of Aphrodite’s sons.

Seungmin nodded thoughtfully, “yeah, I saw some of them just now at the arena, but I doubt you’d have to worry, you could take half the Hermes kids on your own,” Seungmin laughed, making you wave him off.

Seungmin had seemed to find Ten and Yuta’s discussion interesting as well, turning his head to listen in as you brought your cup to your lips, frowning as you tried to pick up on what they were talking about.

You couldn’t help yourself from letting your gaze flicker between Ten and Hyunjin, hearing Ten cut in and explain something about acting cute and effortlessly getting people to do what you want them to do, all while you saw Hyunjin turning to ask one of Apollo’s daughters next to him if she had a tissue, the girl seeming almost compelled as she stood up and made her way to the far end of the table to grab a small packet of tissues for Hyunjin.

You had to refrain from scoffing, turning back to Ten with a sweet smile, your tone as lighthearted as it could be, “guess people just do things for you if you’re pretty, right?”

Ten seemed to have no qualms in agreeing with you, nodding at you with a smirk, “exactly.”

Hyunjin heard you of course, not knowing if that was a hint of spitefulness he detected in your tone, and you didn’t miss the way he’d looked up to meet your eyes, something about his gaze almost making it hard for you to look away, but you did. Scanning your attire, Hyunjin couldn’t help the small huff that left his lips.

Daughter of Ares, he should’ve figured abrasive words would’ve come with the package.

Deciding to dismiss it, Hyunjin turned back to Chan who was seated in front of him, rejoining whatever conversation they were having about swimming in the lake with ease. He would just forget about it, it wasn’t like picking a fight with the war god’s child was part of his agenda for the day.

Well, of course, that was until the time came to play capture-the-flag and Hyunjin found himself so unfortunately partnered with you to guard the flag. He should’ve just stayed with his sisters to cheer on the players.

You didn’t try to hide the fact that you were displeased, shooting a wide-eyed look at your Head Counselor Jaebum, who had simply dismissed you with a wave when you’d pulled him aside with a very annoyed glare on your face.

“Why can’t I guard with Yuta? I thought Aphrodite wasn’t playing,” you murmured harshly, fixing your armour roughly as you gripped the handle of your sword tightly, your heart sinking when you saw the way Jaebum had simply smiled, reaching his hand out to shove your helmet onto your head, flicking the red hairs that stuck out from the top with a laugh.

“There’s no time for you to complain, trust me, Hyunjin’s good,” he dismissed your hesitance, waving you off as he began to head elsewhere with the rest, “you’d better guard it properly,” he warned before leaving with the rest, the clinking of their shields against their armour growing softer the further they went.

Grabbing the flag from the floor with a huff, you’d started heading towards the lake, shoving the flag harshly through the pebbles to secure it in the ground, a small huff of annoyance leaving you as you squinted up at the sky, the summer heat annoying you even more.

Not being able to find it in you to relax, especially with the knowledge that Hyunjin was here, you paced around the flag, your hand placed protectively above your scabbard, the other hand on your hip as you eyed your surroundings.

Hyunjin on the other hand, seemed unaffected, and you heard the rustling of the pebbles as he sat down, his sword next to him and his hands behind him supporting his weight. To anyone else, he would’ve looked completely at ease, his head lifted to face the sky, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the warmth.

Though his ease didn’t last for long, the constant crunching of the pebbles and the annoyed scoffs that left your lips every now and then drawing his attention back to you.

Hyunjin never really liked Ares, he momentarily wondered if you were similar in the aspects he disliked as well, since the behaviour you were displaying right now was very...not typical of an Ares.

“Are all Ares demigods as high-strung as you?” Hyunjin furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, “your pacing’s gonna give us away.”

Your head whipped around quickly, scoffing at him, “yeah, well, excuse me for feeling responsible for the flag,” you huffed.

Hyunjin didn’t understand why you took the games so seriously, (frankly you didn’t either), but you both figured it was the streak of Ares in you that made you feel competitive, but nonetheless, Hyunjin wasn’t amused.

“It’s not just your responsibility, you know. Jaebum literally asked me to guard it with you.”

You let out a half-hearted laugh, your words coming out in choppy bursts as if there were a million other things in your head that were fighting to be said, “yeah, well, I guess you could say that’s why i’m even more on edge.”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at you, wanting you to look in his direction but you didn’t seem to be giving him the time of day, your eyes still searching the woods in front of you for any sign of someone else.

“Look,” Hyunjin felt himself growing annoyed, “I don’t know what you have against me but now’s not exactly the time to be angry at me.”

You hadn’t realised, but your agitated state had been unconsciously manipulating Hyunjin’s feelings, making him more annoyed the more he saw you pace.

“Jaebum’s being stupid. He shouldn’t have put you here with me,” you sighed, more to yourself than to Hyunjin.

“You don’t trust me,” Hyunjin murmured, his tone giving away his surprise (or lack thereof), already moving to stand up, dusting the dirt off of his pants as he kept his gaze fixed on you.

You turned to face him, unaffected by his presence unlike the other day, now, Hyunjin noticed your gaze was much firmer.

“Yes, I don’t,” you told him, “forgive me for saying this but, you and your siblings don't necessarily have a very good track record when it comes to combat.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, “yeah, well, ” he mimicked your tone from before, “brute force isn’t the only way you can win, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering for a moment what exactly were the gifts that aphrodite had bestowed on her children to warrant such confidence from Hyunjin. You figured he was just trying to divert your attention from the fact that they really weren’t one to fight.

“So, i’m right? You don’t fight?”

You wouldn’t usually have been so... annoying, maybe it was your annoyance at Jaebum making itself known to Hyunjin, and in turn making Hyunjin annoyed at you as well.

Hyunjin took a small step closer to you, holding himself at arms length as he got a good look at your eyes.

Pretty, you thought, but probably not what you should’ve been focusing on at the moment.

And you really shouldn’t have, because you surely hadn’t expected Hyunjin to pull his sword from where it was on the ground abruptly, pointing it right at your throat, the slightest of smiles on his face, almost as if he was curious to see if you’d really lived up to what people said about you.

“I don’t know who you heard that from,” Hyunjin had an amused smirk on his face, something about him wanting to prove himself to you for some reason. The idea of protecting the flag already pushed to the far back of his mind.

You glanced down at the blade before you, pulling it ever so slowly out from its scabbard as you met his gaze again, something about it hardening when you could practically feel him challenging you.

There wasn’t a single sound between the both of you other than the sound of the wind blowing the trees and the lake flowing beside you. Clenching your jaw, you’d brought your sword up to push him out of the way with a grunt, seeing him dodge deftly when you swung it at his arm.

As if you weren’t already angered enough, you were shocked at how well he had been going against you, not paying much attention to what you were doing at this point, casting mindless swings and driving your elbow down on his shoulder, a small grunt leaving Hyunjin.

Swinging his sword at your back, you’d caught it with your sword, pushing back against him with as much force as you could muster, your swords coming in between the both of you, stuck there with the sheer force you were both applying.

Hyunjin had to admit that you were definitely stronger than him, almost giving up but too stubborn to do so, his other hand coming up to grab at your forearm, pushing your sword out of the way before his hand with his sword came up towards you.

Grabbing his hand quick enough, you’d shoved him away from you, bending to avoid another swing before turning, roughly bringing your sword to swing at him, hitting his chest and causing him to stumble back slightly, though what surprised you was how determined he was.

Regaining his stance quickly, as you dropped your shield angrily, he’d swung his sword just as you did, your swords colliding loudly as he brought his other hand to your hand, ripping your sword from your hand quicker than you could process and tossing it aside, his own sword coming to your throat once again, his other grand gripping onto your free hand firmly.

With how focused you were on fighting each other, the both of you hadn’t even realised Jaebum’s presence there, the said head counselor quietly observing you as Hyunjin tried to use his charmspeak on you. Being one of the (very few) children of Aphrodite that had this ability, Jaebum couldn’t help but be curious as to how this would play out.

You contemplated trying to summon your sword back, but as you were about to, he’d spoken up, distracting you.

“Pick up the flag,” he told you, in what you assumed was the most enchanting tone you’d heard from him, moreso with the way he was looking at you.

Hyunjin’s face was mere inches away from you, gripping your wrist even despite the gash you’d made on his palm, too absorbed in his motive to pay any attention to the pain. Something about his gaze had unsettled you, the pleasant smell of his perfume almost seeming out of place with the strong demeanour he was showing you now, making you curious as to what else there was about him that you were getting wrong in your head.

And he waited, he waited for your eyes to glaze over and for you to obediently walk over to the flag and pick it up without a single bit of defiance like how everyone else did. Except you didn’t.

His request had caught you off guard, making you furrow your eyebrows as your lips parted in confusion, “why the hell would I do that?”

Shoving his hand holding his sword away from you, you huffed, turning to see Jaebum and a few of the newer Ares and Athena kids standing there in shock. Well, at least most of them were in shock, Jaebum’s expression was all-too-amused.

Hyunjin stood, dumbfounded at the fact that his power hadn’t worked on you, turning to face Jaebum with his lips in a pout as Jaebum cleared his throat.

Ignoring the annoyed furrow to your brow, Jaebum brought a hand up to rub his exposed arm over his tattoo, “we... won...” he stopped to let a small laugh escape him, “you guys can bring the flag back.”

You huffed, moving to pick up your sword, shoving it into your scabbard, still confused at the fact that Hyunjin had just asked you to pick up the flag for no reason after what he did.

Turning back to Hyunjin, you saw him about to open his mouth, wanting to ask if you were going to take the flag with how he gestured to it.

Shaking your head as you were already making your way back, you said, “take the stupid flag, I don’t want it.”

It was only when you were with the rest in the amphitheatre did you realise Hyunjin had made an impression on you in more ways than just through surprising you.

You were making your way through the crowd to find Jeongin when you’d spotted Jaehyun, his hair messy and slightly damp with perspiration, giving you a friendly smile as he lifted his glass to you.

You saw him making his way over to you, his armour long discarded as he stood in his long sleeved t-shirt and cargo pants, pushing his hair back only to make it even messier.

“Hey, it was a good game just now, where were you?” he asked.

“Oh, I was just guarding the flag.”

Jaehyun nodded, a hum of understanding leaving him. Bringing his cup up to his lips, his gaze darted to your arm, his eyes widening as a sharp hiss left him, “hey, that’s a pretty bad cut, how’d you get that?”

You frowned, your eyebrows raising, a hum of confusion leaving you. Only realising when Jaehyun had reached a hand out to grasp your elbow gently, lifting your arm gently to draw your attention to the gash on your arm, the blood having gotten onto your shirt without you realising.

“Oh,” you hummed, shaking your head in dismissal at Jaehyun, “no it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt. I’ll just get Jeongin to help me patch it up later.”

Jaehyun’s forehead creased slightly as his eyebrows lifted, “really? I can help you with it now, if you want,” he offered, a soft smile on his face.

Turning to look over at where Jeongin and Yuta were seated at one of the steps of the ampitheatre, you tried not to let their knowing smiles fluster you, turning back to Jaehyun with a shake of the head.

“It’s fine, don’t wanna trouble you, but thanks for offering,” you assured him.

“What brings you back?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you, seeing his smile widen, giving you a shrug.

“For fun, honestly. I’m on break at university anyway, so I figured I might as well.”

Your lips parted in realisation, nodding slowly, “your girlfriend didn’t mind you leaving?”

He shook his head, “yeah, she was going back home to visit her family anyway,” you nodded, sighing in relief with the knowledge that he still had a girlfriend so whatever Jeongin said was baseless.

Jaehyun glanced behind you, spotting Yuta and Jeongin sitting at the steps, pressing his lips together so his dimples showed, “shouldn’t keep you any longer, your friends are waiting. See you later,” he had a hand gently on your shoulder, pulling it back to give you a small wave before you’d left to join Yuta and Jeongin at the steps.

“Ouch,” Yuta hissed, eyeing your arm, “who did that?” he nodded his head towards your arm, drawing Jeongin’s attention to the wound.

You huffed, gesturing towards the group of Aphrodite’s children gathered closer to the fire, “Hyunjin,” you offered half-heartedly.

Jeongin’s eyes widened, “Hyunjin? But why? Wasn’t he on your side?”

Yuta’s attention was still searching the group of them, observing the way Hyunjin had a little bit of bandage peeking out from the arm of his sleeveless shirt, a small scratch on his cheek and his palm wrapped with a bandage as well.

“Are you sure it wasn’t someone trying to get the flag?” Jeongin prompted, as if trying to wrack his brain to recall anybody from his side to making it that far over to your side.

“No,” you shook your head, leaning back in your seat with a sigh as you brought your cup to your lips, “just him.”

“What? Why would he do that, though?” Jeongin hummed. You knew he was friends with Hyunjin, so his confusion was catching you even more off guard.

You shook your head, “I’d rather... not talk about it right now,” you sighed, “can you help me with this?” you turned to Jeongin, gesturing to your arm.

You missed the look Jeongin cast Hyunjin’s way, nodding at you as he stood up, probably going to get the first-aid box he kept in his cabin. Yuta cast a brief glance in your direction before letting out a snort.

“I can feel how annoyed you are,” Yuta drawled, jokingly, of course.

You drew your gaze away from Hyunjin, turning to look at Yuta, “I’m not annoyed, ” you murmured, “just... surprised.”

Yuta quirked an eyebrow at you, “pleasantly surprised?” You waved him off, “don’t get too carried away.”

Daring yourself to look back at Hyunjin, you’d surprised yourself when you noticed he was looking in your direction as well, drawing his gaze away with a certain calmness to his gesture that made you almost unable to look away. Something about it still felt so... unsettling to you.

From what you knew, Aphrodite was the goddess of love, of beauty, but what you saw from Hyunjin was a whole other side of that, beauty with a certain kind of strength you weren’t used to witnessing. An almost unassuming kind of strength, something about it only making you more curious about him.

But after your interaction with him today, you weren’t so sure that you wanted to cause more problems for yourself. You figured if you just stayed out of his way, you would probably still be able to ensure yourself a peaceful summer. That was the plan, at least.

===

What you didn’t realise was that camp half-blood was a lot smaller than you thought it was, especially with how often you were running into Hyunjin after that day.

You were on your way to The Forge, since you’d come up with a plan to forge a sword this week, feeling in need of something that suited your own tastes more. In other words, you were bored out of your mind.

However, on your way to the place, you’d bumped into Hyunjin as you were making your way past the mess hall, unconsciously frowning at the sight of him, making him scoff, walking beside you with that same air of elegance he always carried himself with (a contrary to you who was trying to walk faster than him in your own unspoken petty competition).

Hyunjin wasn’t sure why he was entertaining your competition, also trying to walk quicker than you, his hair bouncing lightly atop his head as he walked briskly, making you realise halfway how stupid the both of you probably looked, halting your footsteps halfway to turn to him with narrowed eyes.

“Stop,” you told him firmly, making his eyes widen, his hand raising to point a finger at himself.

“Me?” Hyunjin scoffed, “you started it first.”

You opened your mouth to speak, closing it quickly, curious to why he was heading in the same direction as you, “stop following me.”

Though your question came out in a rather roundabout way, you figured that was the extent your pride allowed you to go to for now.

Hyunjin folded his arms, unsure why you were so proficient at bringing out the petty side of him, “you stop following me, ” he shot back, his height making him look more intimidating despite his expression showing nothing but child-like stubbornness (similarly to yours).

“I’m not, I’m going to The Forge!”

“I’m going to the Stables!” He shot back at the same time as you, as if it were even a competition to answer first.

Hyunjin hummed, so you were going to The Forge.

The information made Hyunjin curious as to what you were planning on making or fixing there, though he didn’t want to pursue it, still upset that the wound you inflicted on his hand made it hard for him to ride the pegasi.

Whereas you had to stop yourself from thinking about what an elegant thing riding pegasi would be, especially if it was Hyunjin doing it.

Pushing the thought to the back of your head, you huffed, leaving him to continue on your way to the Forge, his footsteps behind you barely audible until you’d both parted ways.

And so it continued. You would alternate between joining Jeongin to do some painting or sculpting and working on your sword, yet somehow you would always manage to run into Hyunjin one way or another.

For a moment, you thought this was some sort of punishment from your father for calling him a whiny bitch, warranting Hyunjin’s presence wherever you went.

It was either on your way to the Forge, or even when you would turn while painting to stare at the lake only to spot Hyunjin sitting at the corner of the area sculpting something with clay, it seemed as though wherever you went, misfortune in the form of a certain Aphrodite-born boy would follow.

What irked you the most wasn’t the way he would make even spilling paint look graceful, or the way his contagious laugh would echo loudly around the area, or how his silver ring would clink against the glass water jar distractingly to the beat of whatever song he was listening to as he worked. Instead, it was his response (or lack thereof) whenever you would meet eyes, how he didn’t have the same reaction everyone else did. How instead of looking away he would keep his gaze firm, yet gentle. How he didn’t seem... scared.

Hyunjin knew this too, how everyone tended to stay away from Ares demigods in general due to their tendency to make people feel angry or upset and result in fights between campers, but Hyunjin was curious. He couldn’t help himself. He’d tried his powers on other Ares children before and they worked, so why were you the exception?

He was down at the Lake, his usual spot he would go to whenever he wanted to relax or clear his mind, since no one else really came here in the night, trying to clear his mind of thoughts of you, having been tormented by them for the whole day as he tried his charmspeak on different people just to make sure he wasn’t broken or anything.

Though it seemed even the lake was no exception to you, something in him feeling as though he wasn’t the only one there, and being proven right when he’d lifted his head from looking at his journal, turning to see you sitting not too far from where he was. Except this time you looked a little... different.

Hyunjin wasn’t sure if it was the softness of the moonlight, but something about the way you looked now with your hands supporting your weight behind you as you looked at the water sloshing around in the lake, moving your foot right and left lazily with your hair flowing freely with the wind and a serene expression on your face. Something about it was very different from the picture of a daughter of Ares that he’d painted in his head. If he didn’t know who you were, he would never have guessed your father was the angry, aggressive, battle-driven god among the olympians, finding something about it awfully refreshing.

Hyunjin had averted his gaze quickly, his hand coming up to grasp at his neck, wincing at the pain from turning his head too quickly.

Drumming his fingers on his journal lightly, Hyunjin slid it into the pocket of his jacket, not knowing you’d already seen him when you came here. He’d contemplated on starting a conversation with you, wondering if it was worth the energy since it’d probably just end up in another petty fight between the both of you.

Deciding against it in the end, Hyunjin stood up with a small sigh, his hand coming up to run his fingers through his hair as he trudged through the sandy ground before he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, walking past you when you’d spoken up.

“Didn’t they tell you?” you murmured, a slight teasing lilt to your tone, though it was sleepier than Hyunjin was used to hearing it.

Hyunjin turned his head to face you, his eyebrows raised in question, and a part of you just sighed at how unlucky you were that you had run into Hyunjin here too of all places.

“Tell me what?” he asked.

Hyunjin had a feeling you were about to crack a joke, with the way you tried (and failed) to contain your smile as you turned to look at him, a certain softness to your smile that came with sheer relaxation.

“You can see your reflection in the lake better in the daytime,” you grinned, making Hyunjin scoff, though he couldn’t help his amusement.

He shook his head at you, a forced laugh leaving him, “very funny, but i’m not Narcissus.”

There was a small pause that fell between the both of you, your arms coming up over your head in a stretch, a small yawn leaving you. Hyunjin hadn’t left yet, making you wonder if it was because he was surprised to see you here.

“I didn’t follow you here,” you added, “if that’s what you’re wondering.” You know, just for good measure.

Trust you to be straightforward, he thought.

Hyunjin figured he’d might as well take the opportunity to tease you as well, hoping it would help him regain whatever upper hand he thought he had in the exchange.

“Yeah, sure,” he drawled, turning and walking away before you could see his satisfied smile at your yelp of protest.

===

You were a little more excited than usual today, it’d been two weeks since you’d started forging your sword and today would be when you would be able to take it back and use it, the summer sun having started to set by the time you were done.

You were proud of it, frankly. It may have looked like any other sword, but the way it felt was different, it was less prone to wear during rough use as compared to your previous sword, the blade made to be sharper and sturdier. Not to mention how the handle was a perfect fit for your hand. Though you wished you’d had the power of conjuring up a weapon like some of the other children of Ares did, your powers were rather limited to just summoning your weapons and manipulating their material.

It was as if Ares knew you weren’t the most careful with your things.

You’d spotted one of the sons of Hermes, Minho, making their way into the armory as you were leaving, not bothering to greet him as you crossed paths. You knew who he was very well, and what a reputation he had for pranks in the camp, though you’d fortunately never been at the brunt of any.

But that didn’t change the fact that you were feeling just the slightest bit hesitant, at first, something almost prompting you to bring it back to the Cabin first before you went for dinner but eventually you figured it was fine. It was only for a short period of time anyway. You doubted people would want to steal swords in a place like this.

Meeting your friends at the mess hall for dinner, Jeongin eyed you suspiciously when he’d caught you smiling at your soup for the fifth time that meal.

“Something good happen?” he asked, making you nod eagerly.

“Guess,” you told him, seeing his lower lip jut out in a thoughtful pout, his hand coming up to touch his chin before his eyes had widened, his smile growing.

“Jaehyun—”

“No,” you narrowed your eyes at him in warning, making him burst into giggles, his hand raising in surrender.

“Okay, fine, fine...” he hummed, “oh! You finished your sword?” he asked, earning a nod from you.

“Just finished it this afternoon, it’s in the workshop now but i’m gonna go get it later,” you told him, biting into your food with a satisfied sigh.

Jeongin made a sound of awe, his excitement written all over his features, “can I go with you? I wanna see it.”

You nodded, “yeah sure.”

“Is Yuta coming too?” he asked, earning a shake of the head from you.

“Nope,” you told him, “he’s going over to the Aphrodite cabin for some party,” a small giggle leaving you as you recalled how excited Yuta was to hang out with Ten.

“Aphrodite cabin, huh,” Jeongin snickered, making you nod knowingly.

“I know,” you sighed, bringing your cup to your lips to finish the rest of your drink.

Jeongin tossed his used tissue onto his now-empty tray, “well I’m ready to go, you?” he asked, glancing at you for confirmation.

Giving him a nod, you’d both cleared your trays and made your way out of the mess hall, though as you were on your way out, you couldn’t help but notice the stares you were getting from the other campers as you made your way past the cabins. You’d dismissed their stares quickly, thinking nothing of it until Jeongin had let out a small hum of discomfort.

“Is it just me, or...” he grimaced, clearing his throat, “are they staring?” he asked you, twisting his ring around his index finger.

You nodded, giving him a small shrug as you brushed your flyaway hairs away from your face, the wind blowing it haphazardly around.

“Thought so, but it’s alright, I mean. As far as I know we’re fine ‘cause Jaebum hasn’t summoned us anywhere yet,” you huffed, already nearing the workshop when you’d seen a small group of people gathered there, one being Minho, who was currently crouched over something you couldn’t quite see.

“What’s that?” Jeongin murmured, more to himself than anything.

You watched as Minho had slowly emerged from his crouching position, looking at you with pleading eyes and his hands waving in front of him almost as if in reassurance, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, I can explain, I’m really sorry I don’t know what happened I was just doing my own thing and I didn’t know that I was actually—”

“What happened?” you cut him off, his rambling only making your anxiousness grow. Looking at him with confusion written all over your features, you hoped dearly that your suspicions would be proved wrong.

Jeongin watched with horror in his wide eyes as Minho had pulled out what looked like your (now cut up) sword.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked back at Minho You were sure your sword wasn’t as hard or brittle enough to have broken like this, you would’ve known, you’d consulted the many sons and daughters of Hephaestus that had come and gone from The Forge while you worked and researched on what would be best for your sword. You were sure they, the sons of a blacksmith of all people, extremely skilled at crafting, wouldn’t have allowed you to make a sword that could get damaged so easily.

“How... did this happen?” you asked him, oblivious to the way the people there were looking on curiously, eager to see if you would live up to the typical Ares tendencies and go into a fit of blind rage.

“I thought this was my sword and I was gonna melt it down to cut it but then I realised too late that it wasn’t mine,” he admitted, his tone sounding too remorseful for you to be more angry at him.

Now that, you could believe.

You looked back at the sword and back at him, not wanting to look at your sword any longer as you inhaled deeply, hearing someone murmur that you looked as though you could kill Minho.

Jeongin heard it too, felt it even, the sheer anticipation from the crowd that you would prove them right that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. They didn’t believe you were capable of controlling your temper, not when all your other siblings couldn’t. And you were glad you realised it, that if you acted on your anger right now, you wouldn’t be doing anything other than perpetuating their image of you as someone that so predictably craved war.

A silence fell between you and Minho, aside from the hushed whispers and murmuring that could be heard from the other campers around you, feeling Jeongin’s hand touch your shoulder gently.

You shook your head, hoping you came across as more reassuring than wanting to kill Minho, a small murmur of an ‘okay’ leaving you before you’d turned away from him, leaving with Jeongin without another word.

Of course, your reaction came to the other campers as a shock, none of them having seen you display such an eerie calmness before. They were sure if the same thing had been done to Yuta, he wouldn’t have held back on showing just how upset he was, but you’d reacted in the least typically Ares way imaginable.

And Hyunjin thought so too.

He had been bored out of his mind waiting for the sons of Dionysus to show up with the drinks, sitting leisurely on the plush sofa in the big living room as he fiddled with his hair, glancing at the door every now and then as he pretended to be interested in whatever gossip his sisters were divulging amongst themselves.

“Did you hear?” one of them tapped on Hyunjin’s arm incessantly, making him turn to them with a bored expression, his fingers touching his ear absently as he prompted them to continue.

“Minho just had a run-in with Y/N,” she told him, her eyes beaming with excitement as though the information she shared was life-or-death, in a very entertainment channel kind of way.

Hyunjin frowned at the mention of your name, already trying to picture how that would’ve gone down, wondering if you’d pummeled Minho and had been the reason behind his absence at the party.

Well, that was until Minho had walked into the Aphrodite cabin looking absolutely unscathed, and Hyunjin decided that maybe he did want to know what happened.

“What happened?” he shifted in his seat, trying to appear nonchalant with his hand supporting the side of his head even despite his bubbling curiosity.

His sister had wasted no time in telling the story, “Minho broke Y/N’s sword because he thought it was his sword, and then when she was going to go get it he told her about it and she looked really angry,” she told him, nodding gravely.

“You were there?” Hyunjin asked, his frown deepening, wondering for a moment what he was doing during that time. Probably lazing on his bed, he figured.

His sister’s mouth had shut quickly, her gaze darting to the ceiling, “well... no, I wasn’t, but that’s what I heard from Ten, who heard it from- okay, nevermind, the important part was that she looked angry, okay?”

Hyunjin knew about Minho’s... penchant for pranks, usually not bothering about them since they were pretty minor. But even he thought this went a little too far. You’d been working on that sword for what... a little more than two weeks? If Hyunjin were in your position, he was sure he would’ve been upset too.

“So... did she like... fight him or something?” he asked his sister, earning a shake of the head from her, which had only surprised him even more.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows raised, “really,” he mustered distractedly, glancing over at Minho who had looked absolutely unaffected, laughing at something Ten had just said.

“She just... left?” Hyunjin asked for confirmation again, not being able to wrap his head around the unpredictability of your reaction. Nothing about you seemed predictable to him, so far.

Maybe your offhand comments, or your skill with weaponry, sure, that was predictable, but even from that day playing capture-the-flag, Hyunjin knew there was something in you that was very much Ares, and very much not.

He wouldn’t have expected such a reaction from someone as strong-willed as you, but then again, as he thought more about it on his way to where Minho was, he thought that maybe he should have expected it. There was something akin to a quiet strength about your reaction, to him.

“Oh, hey,” Minho greeted Hyunjin with a nod in the kitchen as he poured himself another drink, Hyunjin letting out a deep breath he hadn’t even known he was holding.

“Why’d you do that to Y/N’s sword?” he’d asked abruptly, shocking himself with the imperative nature of his tone, and Minho didn’t mask his shock either, the boy looking at Hyunjin as if he’d grown another head.

“Look, I don’t usually give a shit about your pranks but... don’t you have to admit that was a little too much?” his tone had calmed down considerably, maintaining his calm exterior as he gave Minho a small shrug.

Minho let out a snort, nodding slowly, “dude... you know I didn’t actually destroy it, right?”

Hyunjin’s lips parted in surprise, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair again, the whole situation proving to be very unnecessary to him. It seemed, whenever it came to you Hyunjin always found himself feeling emotions he wasn’t used to feeling, things like defensiveness, annoyance, though nothing about it was unwelcome to him, strangely. That part, he had yet to figure out fully.

“Then why’d you do it?” Hyunjin wondered out loud.

Minho shrugged, “wanted to see if she was as temperamental as the rest of them. Think about it, she’s never really...lost her temper like the rest of them.”

“Why do you care anyway?” Minho continued, “I didn’t recall anything about you two being friends,” Hyunjin was caught off guard by the implication.

Looking elsewhere, Hyunjin let out a small scoff, “I don’t, okay? I just... felt bad for her,” he tried to reason, “she worked hard on that sword.”

Shrugging, Hyunjin let out another huff of disbelief, removing his jacket with how stuffy it started to feel in the house.

“Whatever, why am I even explaining this to you,” he muttered, “where’d you put the actual sword?”

Minho eyed Hyunjin curiously, shaking his head with a small smile on his face as he gestured outside the house, “it’s still in the workshop.”

Sighing deeply, Hyunjin rolled his eyes at his own expense, giving Minho a firm pat on the shoulder before he left, his mind a swarm of reasons why he shouldn’t have been doing this, even stopping himself in front of The Forge to just be absolutely sure he was going to go out of his way to deliver a sword to someone he wasn’t on the best terms with.

But he did anyway, and that was what ended Hyunjin up holding your sword in its sheath and grimacing non-stop along with his annoyed mumbles on his very hesitant path towards the lake where he figured you would be.

Sure enough, Hyunjin had sighed in relief when he’d spotted you sitting at your usual spot, your knees propped up closer to your chest and your arms folded and resting upon them, your back facing him.

Shaking whatever hesitance there was left in him, Hyunjin cleared his throat, sighing when you hadn’t turned around.

You weren’t in the mood to have another bickering session with Hyunjin, as a matter of fact, already upset enough at the fact that you not only had to make another sword for yourself, but that the other campers probably just viewed you as some sort of ticking time bomb that they couldn’t wait to set off.

About to take another step towards you, you’d sighed, one of your hands going to pick at the hem of your pants, “shouldn’t you be busy shooting love arrows or something?” you huffed.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, freezing in place behind you, “how’d you know it was me?”

You shrugged, not wanting to admit that it was the same pleasant floral scent that brought back your memory of that day playing capture-the-flag that had let you know it was him, the scent being somehow unmistakably Hyunjin that your mind seemed to have automatically associated the two together.

“And again,” he huffed, “just because Aphrodite’s my mom doesn’t mean i’m cupid.”

You hummed patronisingly, “what do you want?”

Hyunjin sighed, making his way in front of you, holding your sword out in front of you, your eyes narrowing at him as you took the sword from him slowly.

“It’s yours,” he murmured, “it wasn’t actually destroyed.”

If Hyunjin had expected to receive an appreciative expression of thanks, maybe he should’ve gone to someone else.

You stood up abruptly, a small gasp leaving you.

“Were you the one behind all of this?” your brows furrowed in annoyance, pointing your sword at him with its sheath still on, making Hyunjin step back slightly.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in shock, a scoff leaving him despite his hands finding their way beside his head in a gesture of surrender, “why are you getting mad at me? I didn’t do anything, I was just returning this to you,” he defended himself.

Maybe Hyunjin was just unlucky, he thought, if only you would have reacted this way to Minho instead of him.

“How do I know you weren’t the one that planned all of this?” you’d almost moved to jab your sword towards him, Hyunjin having anticipated your move and grabbed your sword by it’s sheath, his other hand coming to your wrist and pushing it away from him, ripping the sword from your grip and holding it over his head.

“Excuse you, I left a party just to go and get this hunk of metal and return it to you,” he narrowed his eyes at you, “and this is how you thank me?”

You frowned, confusion prominent in your features as you dropped your hands to your sides limply, “why would you do that?”

Frankly not knowing the reason either, Hyunjin opened and closed his mouth as he fumbled for an answer, tilting his chin up in defiance when he scoffed eventually.

“Fine, if you don’t want this I can just go throw it in the lake or something—”

You stopped him quickly, a yelp of protest leaving you as your hand found its way around his wrist.

Hyunjin hadn’t missed the pleading look in your eyes that flashed for just a second, his grip around your sword loosening as he let you take it back, slightly amused at the way you’d let out an annoyed huff, holding your sword protectively next to you.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumbled grumpily, “didn’t know someone that came from the goddess of love could be such a pain in the ass. ”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at you, something about him finding your expression akin to that of a child as you sulked, not being able to help himself from prodding you further in retaliation.

Taking a step closer to you, Hyunjin licked his lips as he tried to think of a response, taking his lower lip between his teeth and letting it go with a slowness that had only served to heighten the tension of the silence.

“What about you, then? I’m sure you live up to what they say about Ares children craving fights and anger, right?” You couldn’t help but feel as though he were challenging you, as if he wanted you to prove him wrong, a feeling in his gut telling him that you would. He was confident in that, (also because he kind of hoped you would).

You’d met Hyunjin’s gaze, his words seeming to have struck a chord with you, a small pause ensuing before you’d shook your head slowly, averting your gaze from him, your gaze unconsciously flickering to the sky as a brief thought had crossed your mind on whether Ares would be angry at you for saying what you were about to say.

But you didn’t think you really cared.

“I don’t... fight without reason, okay?” you cursed yourself mentally for the way your words came out as a mumble, missing the small hint of a smile playing at Hyunjin’s lips, something making you want to look up at him.

Hyunjin nodded at you, liking the answer you gave him for the first time, “good. Me too.”

You’d met his gaze, finally, the sloshing of the lake behind you and the coolness of the summer night almost drowning out your next words.

“Good,” you murmured, “let’s... not give each other a reason, then.”

Shocking you with his reaction, Hyunjin had nodded, turning away as he tried to stifle his smile, his hand coming up to run his fingers through his hair again, only to have it fall softly back against his head.

“Go,” you murmured, not being able to tolerate the tension any longer, “join back your party.”

Hyunjin quirked an eyebrow at you, though he nodded nonetheless, a strange feeling within him after the interaction you’d just shared.

Leaving without another word, you turned your sword around in your hands, thankful to Hyunjin for doing something like that for you even though you’d been nothing but unfriendly to him recently, figuring that this could have been a peace offering of some sort.

And just for a moment, you thought, maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

===

And maybe you were right about the whole peace offering thing, since after that day, it was safe to say that Hyunjin and you hadn’t bickered like you did before, tolerating each other’s presence whenever you would both be at the lake at the same time in the night, greeting each other with curt nods when you would walk past each other.

You were having dinner at the mess hall before another game of capture-the-flag that would start at 6 o’clock. Jaehyun had found his way to your table and seated himself next to you, so you were seated in between him and Jeongin, with Chan, Yuta and another son of Ares sitting in front of you.

Hyunjin was seated next to the newer Ares kid, minding his own business as he ate his food, his sisters on his other side talking about the pegasi riding lessons as Hyunjin tried his best to pay attention to the conversation you were having.

You’d been talking about some sort of event the camp was holding in the amphitheatre soon, something like a movie night. In other words, simply an excuse for the older kids to ask for dates to watch a movie with them.

“Are you gonna ask anyone?” Chan had asked Jaehyun, making Jeongin give you a look that was a little too obvious for your liking.

You weren’t able to see Jaehyun’s reaction, since you were seated next to him, not that you cared much about it anyway since you knew it wouldn’t have meant anything.

Choosing to keep your gaze fixed on your food, you prodded at it with your fork as you waited for Jaehyun’s response, almost sighing when he’d cleared his throat, shrugging, “dunno, I guess.”

You missed the way Hyunjin’s gaze wandered from Jaehyun to Jeongin, to you, his mind running wild with possible reasons why Jeongin looked like Jaehyun had just told a joke instead of the response he just gave.

He recalled hearing from his sister the other day that Jaehyun had broken up with his girlfriend from back home, something stirring in him when he’d considered the thought that maybe Jaehyun had his eyes set on you. Not that Hyunjin was in any position to have a problem about it, of course, Jaehyun was free to like whoever he wanted, but something in Hyunjin almost wished for a moment that the feeling in his gut would be wrong for once.

Dismissing the thought quickly, he’d averted his gaze from Jaehyun, focusing on finishing his drink instead.

You looked up briefly to cast a glare at Jeongin, thankful to Yuta who had spoken up, uninterested in the topic of who Jaehyun’s choice of date was.

“Who says we have to bring dates? Why don’t we just go as a group of friends?” Yuta shrugged, Chan letting out a small giggle in response.

“That would be cute, I don’t mind that,” he agreed, Hyunjin nodding in agreement.

“Can I join? I’d rather not let my sisters try to matchmake me again this time,” Hyunjin grimaced, making you unintentionally perk up at the mention of matchmaking, wondering who they had in mind that would be a good fit for him, running through your mental list as you continued to prod at your food.

“Oh yeah, cause you guys are like children of cupid or something, right?” the boy snickered, something about his tone striking a nerve with you.

Did he really think a god as unpredictable and destructive as Ares was any better?

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes, “Aphrodite,” you quipped sternly, “it’s not that hard to remember.”

Jeongin had to stifle his laughter, and you continued to prod at your food, missing the small smile on Hyunjin’s face when you went back to eating as if you didn’t just say what you said.

The boy had immediately quietened down, afraid that he would warrant another chiding from you if he made another mistake, Jaehyun nudging you with an amused smile on his face.

“Go easy on the kid, he’s not familiar with how it works here yet.”

You huffed, unsure why you had felt so defensive over it as well. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t teased Hyunjin about it before. But maybe that was what irked you about the boy’s statement, how his tone sounded mocking almost, as if it wasn’t something to be proud of to be born from Aphrodite.

Sighing, you’d stood up, ready to get ready for the capture-the-flag game, turning to Jaehyun and scrunching your nose in distaste, “he’s gotta learn at some point.”

The sun was already beginning to set when you’d started the game, the sky growing darker the more the both of you made your way through the forest, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could as Hyunjin walked with you.

Hyunjin and yourself had been on a separate path to find the other team’s flag, the both of you having been split up from the rest after being bombarded with a group of Hermes’ children.

“Should we go that way?” Hyunjin asked, pointing in the direction of the lake, making you shake your head.

“No, they probably have a bunch of Poseidon’s kids standing by there, and I don’t know about you, but I really don’t wanna end up fighting Chan.”

Hyunjin let out a small huff, halfway to a giggle, a small pause ensuing as you stepped over a branch, turning to gesture to the branch as a warning to Hyunjin, hearing him murmur a small thanks to you. Something between the both of you felt more comfortable now, less hostile definitely, but something about it still felt tense, you just couldn’t exactly place the cause of the tension.

“Can I ask you a question?” Hyunjin asked, pulling you from your thoughts, his voice soft but loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded, “what?” you prompted, turning when you’d felt a movement, relaxing when you realised it was just a dove.

“You’re not very fond of your dad, are you?” he asked, making you inhale deeply, huffing through your nose.

You turned to him with a sceptical look on your face, “are you? ” you scoffed.

“So, i’ll take that as a no?”

You paused, giving him a small nod.

Hyunjin hummed softly, reaching a hand up to push the overhanging leaf out of the way before it could hit your head without you realising.

“Can I ask why?” he hummed, his footsteps delicately treading on the ground softly in contrast with you who were simply walking normally.

You shrugged, “guess it never really felt like I fit into the ideals he wants in his children? You know? Like all that... destruction and aggression without reason, it just didn’t feel right to me,” you shrugged.

Hyunjin hummed, as if prompting you to continue, slightly distracted when he contemplated if he should offer his helmet to you since you didn’t have one.

“It felt kind of weird, to be honest, when he claimed me,” you shared, thankful that Hyunjin made you feel as though you could share these things with him without being attacked for not respecting your father. “It kind of felt like it was wrong.”

Hyunjin let out a small giggle at that, a small sound of disagreement leaving him, “I wouldn’t say totally wrong,” he offered, making your eyebrows raise in question, curious to hear what he had to say.

“You know, you’re strong-willed, passionate about what you want, good at combat,” he told you, making you huff in your attempt to suppress the strange feeling within you at Hyunjin’s words. Hyunjin himself felt as though such words were foreign to him, or maybe it was the intention behind the words. He wasn’t sure.

“Thanks,” you murmured softly, the way your voice had come out as a mere squeak making you scrunch your nose up in distaste.

“What about you?” you asked, hearing a confused hum leave him.

“Am I fond of my mom?”

You turned to nod at him, seeing him shrug, “yeah, I guess. I guess the only downside I can think of is how we’re not the most... skilled at combat.”

You didn’t see it, but Hyunjin had to stop himself from letting his smile grow too big, especially because he knew his words had struck a chord with you.

Your breath hitched, feeling almost guilty hearing his words, not being able to help yourself from turning to him, stopping in your tracks in the middle of the path you were on.

“Sorry,” you told him, seeing him tilt his head at you, an expectant smirk on his face.

“For what?”

You shrugged, averting your gaze as you knocked your shield against his gently, embarrassment taking over you at the awkward gesture, “you know, for... underestimating you.”

Daring yourself to meet his gaze, you were surprised to say the least, when he’d simply smiled at you, his tongue moving to graze over his canine, “apology accepted.”

About to move forward, Hyunjin had stopped you abruptly, his hand on your wrist with urgency in the gesture, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Jaehyun.”

You wrinkled your nose in dismay, shaking your head, “probably means we’re near.”

You heard footsteps growing louder, not having expected Jaehyun to be alone, but you should’ve known he wasn’t, especially when you’d heard footsteps behind you, spotting Chan with Jaehyun, and the flag not far behind them.

“I’ll take Chan,” Hyunjin told you quicker than you could react, already wielding his sword as he proceeded to duel with Chan, while Jaehyun made his way slowly over to you, gripping his trident (a gift from Poseidon himself, he was very proud to inform whoever ) and using it to smack against the ground with small thuds as he grew closer.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he gave you a grin, his dimples showing cutely.

You rolled your eyes, not being able to stop yourself from smiling.

“Yeah, Jaebum didn’t put me on flag duty today, but I see you didn’t get so lucky?” you murmured, already pulling your sword out, the sound of Hyunjin and Chan fighting behind you making you wonder just where everyone else was, having expected them to reach the flag before you and Hyunjin could.

Jaehyun scoffed, “hey, I love flag duty.”

Already going into your ready stance, you wanted to laugh when Jaehyun had done so as well, not being able to take him very seriously from knowing him for so long.

And so you swung your sword, managing to nick him on the arm before your sword collided with his trident, though you tried to ignore the intimidating sharpness of its prongs as you continued to try your best, to dodge his swings and use your difference in size to your advantage. It was a blur to you, the whole process, like it usually was.

You figured it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, where you would get lost in the fighting that you wouldn’t even have time to think before you acted, your body seeming to move naturally with its one goal of getting your opponent out of the way.

Maybe you’d thank Ares for that detail.

After you realised Hyunjin had stopped fighting Chan, you’d let yourself get distracted by wondering how he’d managed to get Chan to give up so easily, giving Jaehyun the opportunity to deliver a particularly strong blow to your shoulder.

Stumbling back, your back hitting the tree behind you as Jaehyun brought his trident up, your hand grasping the spear tightly as you tried to pull it away from your neck, though Jaehyun had an advantage with his stance, holding it against your neck and caging you in place, the tip of one of the pointed ends nicking you just below your jaw when you’d moved particularly abruptly.

Hyunjin had noticed of course, but after he’d managed to get Chan to leave with his Charmspeak, you realised he was free to go get the flag.

So when you saw him coming behind Jaehyun, you used your hand to gesture to the flag, Hyunjin thankfully having gotten the hint and making a break towards the flag, more people having gathered as Jaehyun had let go of you finally, watching with a smile as Hyunjin had claimed the flag, looking at you with a dazed smile on his face.

Jaehyun helped you up from where you leaned against the tree, “he’s pretty good, isn’t he?” you heard him say.

“Who?” you frowned.

Jaehyun nodded his head towards Hyunjin, who was gracefully accepting the praise from the other campers as he made his way towards where you were.

You huffed, nodding, “yeah,” you murmured, “sure is.”

You were too tired to join for the celebration after the game, finding your way back to the Lake. (With how much you went there, people would have thought you were a daughter of Poseidon if not for the red motifs on your attire).

Having asked Jeongin if you could meet him later on after you showered for him to help you clean up your cuts like you would both usually do, you heard soft footsteps behind you, sighing in relief that Jeongin was finally here.

Only when the smell of that distinct flowery scent had grown stronger did you realise that was definitely not Jeongin, your suspicions proven when you saw Hyunjin seat himself down next to you, his hair wet and in a new change of clothes, having freshened up as well, glancing down to see a first-aid box in his hands.

But not any first-aid box, you realised, when you spotted the little stickers on the side of the opening, Jeongin’s first-aid box.

“Hope you don’t mind, Jeongin said he had to get something done,” Hyunjin’s hands came up to pull the neck of his white shirt higher, his bracelet sliding down on his arm, “may I?” he asked, your mouth still sealed shut in your uncertainty on how to respond.

You nodded belatedly, seeing him already taking out some antiseptic cream from the box with a small cotton bud, “oh, uh, no yeah, that’s fine.”

You took the liberty of taking an ice pack from Jeongin’s box, pressing it against the area where your neck met your shoulder, sighing softly, and maybe even cursing Jaehyun in your head for practically ramming your back into that tree just now.

“I didn’t know you were still injured,” Hyunjin murmured, looking at your neck and then back down at his hands, “thought you would’ve just asked Jaehyun to heal you or something.” His voice came out in mumbles as he concentrated on getting the tube open.

Hyunjin figured with how comfortable you looked around Jaehyun that you wouldn’t have hesitated to accept his help, especially since no one liked to live with their injuries if they could help it, but Hyunjin had to dismiss the thought quickly when he started to think about how closeby the Lake was to the Poseidon cabin, wondering if that was the reason behind your constant presence here.

Pursing your lips, you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you, “I don’t really wanna do that unless it’s super serious,” you began.

Hyunjin hummed, “sorry can you like, look there a little?” he gestured to your right, making you turn to your right, side-eyeing Hyunjin at the little giggle that left him.

“No, like,” you’d tensed up when you felt his hand reach forward to tilt your chin up gently, exposing your cut better to him, wincing slightly when the cotton bud had touched your cut.

“You were saying?” Hyunjin prompted you, making you hum in confusion before realising he was referring to the whole healing thing.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, I guess when you’re a demigod and even things like healing can be done just like that, everything can become really... instantaneous,” you explained, “guess it’s nice to have slow moments like these that kind of feel more like, normal and stuff,” your laughter came out in a small burst, feeling strangely embarrassed to be telling Hyunjin something that felt so stupid when it came out of your mouth.

“Scarring?” Hyunjin laughed, making you shoot him a pointed look, “I'm kidding. I get it.” he smiled, not knowing what came over him to decide to continue, “besides, if Jaehyun healed you, I wouldn’t get to be here right now,” he huffed.

You turned to him, trying to decipher what he meant by that yet at the same time feeling as if you knew, Hyunjin’s gaze fixed on your neck as he placed a small bandage over your cut there, his fingers grazing over the skin there in a way that made you freeze in place, something about his movements and gestures feeling as though they were balancing on the line between intentional and unintentional.

Hyunjin’s gaze shifted to your eyes, offering you a small (and slightly belated smile) before his gaze fell to your forearm, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw the wound, grimacing.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve let you fight Chan instead of Jaehyun,” he laughed, beginning to apply the cream with gentle touches to your arm, his neck craned over your arm, his hair falling over his eyes in a way that made you want to reach your hand out and run your hands through it to push it back, shocking yourself at your thought.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt,” you assured him, making him shake his head.

“Kind of think it would’ve been more for myself than for you,” he huffed, once again confusing you with the implication behind his words.

Pulling out a medium-sized dressing for your wound, he’d pressed it against your wound, securing it before his hands returned to his lap, Hyunjin almost forgetting himself for a moment with the tension he was feeling.

“All done,” he gave you a small smile, his shoulders relaxing as a barely-audible sigh left his lips, about to put the supplies back into the first-aid box when you’d stopped him, not knowing why your body seemed to be moving against your rational thought.

Your other hand came up to take the box from his hands slowly, shaking your head at him, “you’re injured too,” you pointed out, seeing his eyes widen and his lips part, a small scoff leaving him.

“It’s nothing,” he assured you, though his tone didn’t sound very convincing, a part of him simply refusing for the sake of refusing, “you don’t have to,” he tried again, knowing once again that his charmspeak didn’t work when you’d shook your head insistently.

“It’s something,” you dismissed him, though a small smile found its way onto your face as Hyunjin had wordlessly tugged the sleeve of his shirt up to expose the cut on his arm to you.

Hyunjin had to admit being in such close proximity to you was definitely making him more tense than he was used to being, especially more so now that he knew he couldn’t depend on his abilities to make himself seem more likeable to you. Though Hyunjin would argue that it was refreshing, since sometimes he found that he would say things offhandedly and end up using his abilities on accident, but he couldn’t lie that it made him very, very nervous.

“You came out pretty unharmed,” you murmured with an impressed hint to your tone, “considering you went against Chan.”

Hyunjin shrugged, flushing slightly, masking his shyness with an exaggerated yelp when you’d touched the cotton bud to his wound, flinching back and making you laugh.

“Don’t be dramatic, you were fine when I did it the first time,” you scoffed, seeing him calm down from his act but the smile had lingered on his face nonetheless.

“Yeah, well... I was just lucky he didn’t have a trident too.”

Hyunjin pressed his lips together in a firm line, not having noticed whatever you were doing to his arm because he was too busy looking at your face.

You couldn’t pay too much attention to it, continuing to ramble to take your mind off of how much Hyunjin’s presence made you nervous, especially with the way you could feel him looking at you.

“How did you do that, by the way?” you asked, remembering how you’d seen Chan walk away from Hyunjin halfway when they were fighting, something about the image having popped into your head when you were treating his cut.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, “do what?”

You touched the skin above his cut on accident, seeing him flinch back slightly, “sorry,” you gave him a sheepish smile, “I mean, you know, he just suddenly... left halfway, like he just stopped fighting you.”

Hyunjin’s lips parted in realisation, a hum of understanding leaving him, “it was uh... my charmspeak.”

The frown on your face must’ve adequately expressed your confusion, since Hyunjin continued.

“I guess you could say it’s one of the gifts from Aphrodite? That I can sort of like... hypnotize someone into doing what I want them to do.”

Your eyes widened, not having realised Hyunjin was capable of such a thing, starting to understand why Yuta had mentioned fearing their powers more than those of Poseidon’s children.

“That’s... cool,” you hummed, “I was surprised you even used it, you know, considering you were already taking him on pretty well even without the uh... hypno powers,” you waved your hands in front of your eyes for emphasis, making him wrinkle his nose, not seeming to be very convinced.

You scoffed at how modest he was being, shaking your head, “no, seriously. Jaehyun said so too,” you told him, “you’re a good fighter.”

Hyunjin pursed his lips, hoping the moonlight wouldn’t give away the heat creeping up on his cheeks, unsure why he was so flattered by your comment, especially since it wasn’t the first time he was hearing it. Maybe since it was his first time hearing you, of all people, saying it.

“Thanks,” he murmured, a small smile playing at his lips.

“You know, since Aphrodite doesn’t usually play in the war games,” you continued, “I have to admit it was kind of... nice,” you glanced at him briefly for a reaction, the slight quirk in his eyebrow making you rush to continue, “you know, not saying it was nice to fight you but like....nice to fight with you.”

“Thanks,” he murmured finally, making your shoulders relax unconsciously in your relief, “I uh, thought it was nice too.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, taking a bandage from the first aid box and scooting closer to Hyunjin just slightly, wrapping the bandage around his arm carefully, Hyunjin’s other hand on his lap as he observed your movements carefully.

You thought about how you would’ve never expected yourself to be so comfortable with Hyunjin, figuring one thing that helped you get to this point was since you’d been spending majority of the summer around each other, thinking back to how you felt like your dislike towards him had started to dissipate after that day he’d returned you his sword. A part of you did still feel bad for not thanking him properly for that.

“Thanks, by the way,” you mumbled, “for that day, when you helped me get back my sword.”

You weren’t sure why you were feeling so drawn to him. You were supposed to be strong for crying out loud. Everything about your interactions with him had just felt so new t o you, and they did to him too (though he was better at hiding it than you were). You couldn’t understand why all Hyunjin had to do was just sit there and that was all it took to make you anxious and too nervous to look him in the eyes.

But finally, you’d mustered whatever courage you had within you to do just that, after you were done wrapping his wound up, watching silently as he brought his sleeve back down, refraining from reaching over to grasp your hand before you could withdraw it. Though once you’d met his gaze, you’d felt trapped, almost, something in you not being able to look away.

“You’re welcome,” he told you, his tone gentle and melodic, something so him that you couldn’t find a better response but to nod.

You saw his gaze flicker to your lips just briefly before looking back at your eyes, making you unknowingly do so as well, the silence between the both of you feeling almost suffocating and making you tap-out first.

Turning away quickly, you’d picked the first-aid box off of the floor, pretending to be interested in closing it as Hyunjin regained his composure, standing up and dusting off the dirt on his pants.

Hyunjin debated on helping you up, wondering if you would accept his hand if he were to offer it, his mental back-and-forth making him lose the opportunity quickly when you’d simply stood up on your own, dusting the dirt from your pants. Hyunjin pressing his lips together in a firm line to hide his disappointment at himself.

“I’ll uh... walk you back to your cabin?” he asked, earning a small nod from you.

You could still hear people nearby in the amphitheatre celebrating, thankful that they were either too drunk or too caught up in their conversations to notice you and Hyunjin walking towards the Ares cabins.

Once you’d reached, you turned to Hyunjin, giving him a small smile, and he wondered how you could look so out of place standing in front of the deep red cabin in front of him with its barbed wire perimeter and the intimidating Ares brothers that were eyeing Hyunjin suspiciously from the window, yet somehow managing to look right at home. And he was growing to like that.

“What?” you asked, a slight furrow in your brow when Hyunjin had let his gaze linger a little too long without saying anything.

Hyunjin gave you a soft smile, shaking his head as he tucked his hands into his pockets, “nothing. Bye.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn’t help the smile from your face as well, nodding slowly, “bye.”

===

Things between you and Hyunjin after that day were... different to say the least. It’d almost been an unspoken thing for the both of you to meet at the Lake in the evening and talk about whatever it was that was in your minds before he would walk you back to the cabin.

Jaebum loved to situate himself at the front porch to ‘read’ whenever it would be time for you to come back, his knowing smile always serving to unnerve you.

Hyunjin was a good friend, you came to realise. Talking to him was different, different from talking to your Ares brothers who were so insistent on putting up a tough front all the time, (aside from those days Yuta would show up in your room wanting to watch a sad movie), or talking to Jeongin because your conversations would usually revolve around mindless things or become all too philosophical to be discussed while sober.

But Hyunjin, talking to him felt balanced, in a sense. Something about how his personality brought out a side of you that you never really paid much attention to, the part that freely loved things and appreciated the nowness of things without always anticipating what was about to happen next or what you had to prepare for. How just being at the lake with him had made your nights feel longer and allowed you to relish in it, not having to be caught up with the activities of the day when you were there with him.

You figured another reason could be because talking with him didn’t feel like he was just waiting for his turn to speak or give his opinion, it was very clear to you whenever he had those days where he’d simply wanted to listen to what was weighing on your mind and help you through that, without you having to ask him first.

And maybe it was that which warmed your heart, because as the days passed, you felt yourself starting to see Hyunjin differently. How you would find yourself looking out for him without even realising, getting the feeling of wanting to make him happy, or observing little details about him that you wouldn’t have bothered to notice about Yuta or Jeongin.

It was one particular day at the mess hall that made you realise just how in trouble you were.

You were all back on that dreaded conversation topic of the movie night, hearing that someone had tried asking Jaehyun to go with them but getting turned down instead, the information seeming to stir childish scandal amongst your friends as they all tried to tease information out of Jaehyun as to why this was so.

“C’mon, why’d you say no? It’s not as if you were gonna ask someone else, right?” Chan laughed, Hyunjin perking up when Jaehyun had laughed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah? Says who? What if I wanted to ask Y/N?” Jaehyun gestured to you, bringing his drink to his lips nonchalantly.

You knew he was just using you as an example, but Hyunjin didn’t.

Looking at you with his eyes wide in surprise, his gaze flickered between you and Jaehyun as he tried to make sense of what was happening, something in him almost deflating at the thought that Jaehyun could have been interested in you.

You couldn’t help but glance at Hyunjin in a small panic, hoping he wouldn’t misread what Jaehyun said. Why were you even worried about what he would think?

As calmly as you could, you let out a small scoff, “forget it, I wouldn’t go with you even if you asked,” you stuck your tongue out at Jaehyun, Hyunjin not knowing whether to take it as a joke or not, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before Chan had turned to him.

“Didn’t someone ask you too?” Chan asked, having recalled seeing one of the daughters of Poseidon approaching Hyunjin the day before when he was conducting a pegasi riding lesson at the stables.

You looked at Hyunjin with evident surprise in your features, since he’d definitely excluded that little detail when he told you about his day the previous evening, surprising yourself even further when you’d pictured the scene in your head, wondering how he would’ve reacted.

Hyunjin cast you a brief glance, meeting your eyes and averting his gaze just as quickly to fixate it on Chan, nodding with as casual a shrug as he could muster, “yeah,” he answered simply.

You couldn’t help yourself, “and?” you blurted before you could stop yourself, catching Hyunjin off guard with the expectancy of your tone.

Jeongin eyed you suspiciously, though it went ignored by you as you focused on waiting for Hyunjin’s answer, watching as he let go of the tissue he was holding in his hands, bringing his drink up to his lips, almost raising his hands in surrender (but thankfully not doing so).

“Said no,” he shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink, eyeing you for a reaction over the rim of his cup.

You nodded slowly, a short hum of understanding leaving you as you turned back to Jeongin, making eye contact with the boy who was looking at you with a look that said he definitely was going to ask you about this later.

And he did, soon enough.

Lying on your bed on his back, Jeongin was busy pulling his knee to his chest in his attempt to do some ‘yoga in bed’ that he’d come across online.

“What’s up with you and Hyunjin?”

“What do you mean, ‘whats up with me and Hyunjin’?” you huffed, hoping he wouldn’t read into your flustered expression as you turned away from him, concentrating on folding your freshly done laundry.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, letting go of his leg before pulling the other one towards his chest with a small grunt, “I mean, what’s going on with you and Hyunjin?” he said again, making sure to enunciate his words pointedly.

You shrugged, “nothing, we’re friends,” you told him plainly (though not plain enough to please Jeongin), “that’s what’s going on.”

Straightening his leg, Jeongin lowered it down, stretching his hands over his head with a yawn, “then what was with your face when Chan said someone asked him out?”

You let out a high-pitched hum, making a wrong fold on your shirt, “well aren’t you an observant little thing,” you cooed, re-doing the fold.

“Don’t avoid the question,” Jeongin laughed, straightening up in his seat and looking at you with wide eyes, “why are you being so weird about it?”

You sighed, bunching up your shirt in your hands as you looked at him, “I don’t know what it is, okay? It’s just that... these days whenever i’m with him I keep thinking about how nice he looks or how good his stupid flower perfume smells or how he just, I don’t know, chooses his words so well,” you frowned.

“It’s weird, like, even I think it’s weird, because I don’t usually pay attention to things like that, but suddenly when it comes to him—” you inhaled deeply, stopping yourself short as you looked at Jeongin in desperation. “If it’s not some kind of magic, I don’t know what to make of it.”

Jeongin snorted, giving you a shrug.

“I’d love to just say you’re losing it, but I heard Aphrodite kids have a reputation for that, you know?”

You frowned, standing up to make your way towards where he was, “for what?” You slumped down on your bed next to him with your arms stretched out above you, rolling over until your shoulder was against his hip, a tired sigh leaving you.

“You know, the whole like... love voodoo shit,” Jeongin prompted, your confused expression making him groan, “it’s like what you guys can do with anger and fear but they do it with pleasant feelings instead.”

Your frown deepened, not having realised Hyunjin was capable of doing something like that.

“I thought it was only the charmspeak?” you frowned, seeing Jeongin roll his eyes.

“You say it as if Ares only gave you guys one ability.”

You snorted, “wouldn’t have put it past him,” you shifted your body to support your head with your hand, “has it happened before?”

Jeongin hummed, nodding matter-of-factly, “yeah, duh. ”

“Then, do you think that’s what’s happening to me?” you wondered out loud, bringing your legs up to hug your knees to your chest with a sigh, trying to wrack your brain for reasons why Hyunjin would manipulate your feelings like that. Did he not trust you?

Giving you a shrug, Jeongin laid back on his back, “dunno, maybe you can test it out or something. See if what you’re feeling is heightened when you’re talking to him, you know?”

You hummed, nodding slowly. You still didn’t know what would compel Hyunjin to do something like that, wondering if you weren’t on as good terms as you thought you were, deciding that for now, observing him was your best bet to figuring out just exactly what he wanted from you.

Hyunjin was stressing himself out too, but not quite over the same reasons that you were.

While you were trying to come to terms with the fact that you were finding him a little too pleasant to be normal, Hyunjin had been trying to come to terms with the fact that Jaehyun probably found you as pleasant as he did (or something along those lines).

He’d already passed the point of figuring out whether or not he liked you. He knew that for sure.

Whether it was because he was more in tune with his feelings of love or just him tending to trust his feelings more, he didn’t really pinpoint a specific cause. All he knew was that he had found himself completely enamoured with you, drawn to you in ways that made him question if his mother had a hand in this.

What he was more concerned with now, was coming to terms with the fact that you may not have felt the same way.

It was in the small things, like how he would let himself read into the looks or the inside jokes that Jaehyun shared, or how he couldn’t help but feel as though you would feel more comfortable with Jaehyun judging from your conversations and how naturally they flowed. Not that his conversations with you didn’t feel natural as well, Hyunjin just couldn’t help but worry.

And this was new to him, these feelings of heightened worry or anxiousness that somehow you managed to bring out in him, though Hyunjin had to say that it wasn’t that bad, because with the anxiousness, he realised just how much he liked you. But nonetheless, as previously said, he really couldn’t help but worry.

Even now (or especially now), as Hyunjin was seated behind you in the amphitheater during the movie night, watching some sort of pirated romantic movie that, if anything, only made him more anxious about you, he couldn’t help the glances he would steal at Jaehyun every now and then. As if by some unlucky stroke of fate, he would always seem to turn to look at you at a part where Jaehyun would be whispering something that would elicit a laugh from you, something about the feeling of helplessness mixed with just a tinge of jealousy making Hyunjin’s stomach churn.

But what Hyunjin didn’t know was that you weren’t actually as amused as he thought you were.

What he didn’t see, past the giggling and inside jokes, was that your leg was bouncing incessantly in your seat, how your eyes were dead fixed on the movie playing but not being able to focus on anything other than the fact that even the way the male lead dressed had reminded you of Hyunjin.

You were trying your best, to ignore the sounds of agreement or giggles that would leave Hyunjin whenever Yuta would hum about the beauty of the leads, or the way Hyunjin would lean forward every so often to ask for another handful of popcorn. And he wouldn’t just ask, he would make sure his lips were barely centimeters away from your ear and that his voice was as enchanting as it was in the forest during your first encounter with him.

And then the scent of his perfume would flood your senses and your mind would be practically yelling at you that all you had to do was just turn ever so slightly and your face would be right in front of his.

But the keyword was trying.

You couldn’t ignore it, with every instance, you were growing increasingly convinced that this was just Hyunjin’s way of messing with you and manipulating your feelings for reasons unbeknownst to you.

And as time passed, you were getting tired of feeling so strongly towards him when you frankly couldn’t do anything about it (it wasn’t as if you could just turn around and kiss him now, that would be too much implication and too little reasonable explanation on your part).

But your tipping point was a particularly tense scene in the movie when the lead couple had shared a moment, looking into each other's eyes and the male lead saying something stupid that you couldn’t bring yourself to remember, before sharing a deep kiss.

And of all moments, Hyunjin had chosen that moment to lean forward for what you felt was the thousandth time, “Y/N,” he whispered, “can I have the—”

You shoved the popcorn box behind you into his hands, a deep sigh leaving you, “here. Take it.”

Jeongin shared a look with Hyunjin, the younger boy’s hand coming up to stifle his smile when you stood up abruptly, deciding that what would do you good right now is some fresh air, or just... air where you could focus on anything other than Hyunjin.

Your sudden decision had caught Hyunjin off guard, frowning at you in confusion when you declared that you ‘needed some air’, stalking off in what Hyunjin assumed was the direction of the lake.

Turning to Jeongin, Hyunjin was about to speak when Jeongin had beat him to it, a definitive ‘yes’ leaving him.

Yuta let out a chuckle when Hyunjin had only looked more confused.

“‘Yes’ what?”

Jaehyun turned to cast a knowing smile towards Hyunjin, making him even more confused to begin to process it.

“I’m guessing you wanted to ask where Y/N was going, but then I think you already know the answer to that,” Yuta pressed his lips together in a poor attempt to contain his smile.

“So, the next question would be whether to go after her, and my answer is yes,” Jeongin finished simply, Hyunjin’s lips parting and closing.

Scoffing, Hyunjin shook his head, “who said I was gonna ask about her?” he folded his arms, even though he had already begun to stand up, making Jeongin giggle.

Jeongin brought his hand up to shove Hyunjin out of the way, “dude, just go. You’re gonna make me miss the rest of this movie.”

===

You were sitting down closer to the water, thankful for the sound of the rushing water that managed to soothe you, running your fingers through your hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it from being blown about by the breeze, giving up at one point and simply huffing, staring at the rocks as though it would give you an answer to why you were so riled up.

But what irked you even more was that even here, you seemed to be so wrapped up in your thoughts of Hyunjin that you swore you could smell that same flowery scent even here. Cursing him mentally that whatever love voodoo he was doing was strong enough to make you think of him even when you were trying everything in your power not to.

Well, that was until you heard someone clear their throat gently behind you, a soft, “hey,” leaving them.

So the flowery scent was real.

You huffed in annoyance, “whatever you’re doing, you have to stop it now.”

Hyunjin frowned, making his way closer to you, “I’m not doing anything,” he told you, standing in front of you now, crouching into a squat so he could be at eye-level with you.

“Don’t play dumb, just undo it,” you tried again, not understanding how even when you wanted to be annoyed at him now, you couldn’t help but find the confusion on his face more than just a little endearing, your gaze softening for just a brief moment when you caught a good look at his face.

Hyunjin shook his head, his hands coming up beside his head in surrender, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted, making you groan.

“Jeongin told me, okay? That you and the other Aphrodite children can manipulate feelings of love, I need you to stop making me feel like this,” you told him plainly, your eyes searching his face in desperation hoping that he would at least take pity on you and stop playing dumb.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, his forehead creasing slightly when he frowned, “that’s... not possible.”

You scoffed, seeing him rest one of his knees on the ground to balance himself, “what do you mean it’s ‘not possible’? Of course it’s possible, if you can do it, you can undo it, right?”

Hyunjin wanted to laugh, a small exasperated scoff leaving him, unsure what to make of this entire situation, “I mean,” he struggled to contain his amusement, having passed the point of exasperation, “it’s not possible because it doesn’t work on you.”

Your frown had deepened, your lower lip unknowingly forming a pout as your eyes searched his expression for any sign that he may have been joking.

“Doesn’t work?” you panicked, unsure what to make of his words, “That doesn’t make sense, what do you mean it doesn’t work? How can it not work?” your lips parted in confusion, Hyunjin getting tired of squatting and sitting before you instead.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head, “I’m just as confused as you, okay? I really don’t know, maybe Ares gave you a thick skull too,” he raised his hands in defence, a small bout of laughter leaving him, seemingly satisfied with his own joke.

Scoffing, you folded your arms, a small silence ensuing, somehow not being able to wrap your head around your newfound information, “explain.”

Hyunjin tilted his head at you, his elbow on his knee to support his head as he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t place, “do you remember? That first day we played capture-the-flag and I told you to pick up the flag?”

You nodded, remembering that moment very well, how firm his gaze was, how sweet his tone sounded, how his proximity made you feel as though you couldn’t move, “I remember.”

“That was me trying to use my charmspeak on you, and failing.”

You remembered the confusion you felt when he’d asked you to pick up the flag, your annoyance overpowering you and possibly being the reason why his abilities hadn’t worked.

“Ever since then, I realised it was never going to work on you,” he murmured, “and believe me, I would’ve known if it did. Which is why i’m telling you now,” he told you, his pace slowing down as his gaze stayed intent, enunciating his words clearly for you to hear.

Hyunjin leaned closer to you, taking his lower lip between his teeth with a small pause before letting it go, his lips curving into a small smile, “that whatever you want me to undo, I can’t undo it.”

Only then did you realise the gravity of the situation, that whatever you were feeling towards Hyunjin was all coming from you, and that as much as you should’ve known, you still couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed over you at the knowledge that it was real.

Hyunjin had taken in a deep breath before you, patiently giving you the time you needed to process whatever he’d told you, amused at the fact that you looked as though you wanted to hide.

“I don’t really... know how to explain this to you,” you admitted, seeing Hyunjin bring his hand up to cover his mouth, stifling his smile while trying to maintain a serious expression.

Hyunjin shook his head, “you can explain it however you want, you can not explain it too, if you want.”

You frowned, figuring he’d probably felt embarrassed for you, standing up and pressing your lips tightly into a firm line, a silent way of telling him that you’d wanted to leave, Hyunjin giving you an understanding nod.

Deciding that you just needed to regain your composure, you nodded, giving him an apologetic smile before you left.

===

You’d obviously consulted Jeongin in the time between that and your next meeting, the said boy claiming that he would never have seen it coming if you’d asked him a month before. Though he was no less supportive, the other daughters of Ares seemed to agree with him as well, all of them singing praises to you about Hyunjin and why you shouldn’t ‘miss this opportunity’.

Which was what ended you up at the Lake again that night, hugging your jacket closer to yourself to protect yourself against the cold breeze.

Staring at Hyunjin’s back, you took a deep breath as you made your way towards where he was seated at your usual spot, dressed in a simple shirt and sweatpants, not looking bothered at all by the cold.

“Hey,” he murmured, hearing the soft crunching of the pebbles under your shoes growing louder, a small smile on his face as you took a seat next to him, something about him not feeling as nervous as he’d expected himself to be.

Mustering a small hum in reply, you gulped, taking in a deep breath as you thought of where to start.

“Had a good day today?” you started, missing the way Hyunjin had quirked an eyebrow at you in his amusement.

He nodded, “average. Didn’t see you at dinner,” he mentioned, turning his head to look at you, silently questioning your sudden politeness.

“Yeah... wasn’t hungry. Was with Jaehyun and Jeongin at the arena.”

At the mention of Jaehyun, Hyunjin pursed his lips, his smile slowly disappearing as he nodded slowly in understanding.

“Does he like you?” he blurted abruptly, his words making your eyes widen. Once again, Hyunjin found himself wishing that Aphrodite would give him more confidence for once, especially in a time like this.

You shook your head, his words having shocked you into laughter, “oh, no, he doesn’t. He’s dating someone back home.”

“Really? But I heard from one of my sisters that—”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, “your sisters? I heard it from Jaehyun himself. Trust me. He’s not interested.”

Hyunjin had visibly relaxed, “oh...” his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, “good.”

Turning to him, you’d raised an eyebrow at him, “good?”

He nodded, a small huff of laughter escaping him, “yeah, good. Honestly, I don’t think I'd stand a chance if he was involved.”

“What makes you say that?” you couldn’t help but laugh, in disbelief that he sounded almost threatened by Jaehyun.

Shrugging, Hyunjin shifted in his seat, bringing his hands behind him to support his weight, “you know, everybody loves him.”

You had to refrain from scoffing, “I think everyone loves you too.”

Hyunjin didn’t bother stopping himself, saying the first thing that had come to mind.

“Including you?” Maybe Aphrodite heard him.

Your head whipped around to look at him, lips parting in shock as you met his gaze again, something about it exuding a kind of certainty that you weren’t used to being on the receiving end of, something about the fact that it was coming from Hyunjin making a warmth spread through your chest, once again reminding you that as delicate as the thought of Aphrodite was, Hyunjin never failed to show you that where there was beauty, there also came a lot of strength.

You gave him a firm nod.

“Including me.”

A smile played at Hyunjin’s lips, “I’m glad you decided to meet me here.”

You huffed, “I had to,” you told him, “I had so many things I wanted to say to you, but now that i’m here it’s like... nothings coming to my head.”

Hyunjin’s smile grew, and it was such a Hyunjin thing to see. How he didn’t bother to contain his happiness, especially now, “what about you say the first thing that comes to your mind right now?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I would say I’m thankful that whatever i’m feeling isn’t just because of magic,” you averted your gaze briefly, daring yourself to hold his gaze no matter how foreign your words felt as they left your lips, “because it’s the first time it’s ever felt so... you know, real. ”

Hyunjin nodded, “I know i’m supposed to be like... familiar with love and everything but,” Hyunjin paused, finding his gaze lingering on your lips a little too long.

“Me too,” he finished.

You knew you weren’t hallucinating when you’d seen Hyunjin leaning closer to you, his hand behind him supporting his weight as he drew closer to you, your eyes slowly closing as Hyunjin’s lips were barely next to yours, being able to feel his breath just ghosting over your lips, something about it almost sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart wasn’t beating fast, your chest didn’t feel tight, this wasn’t like anything you were used to reading about it novels or witnessing in movies, or even hearing from your friends, no. Something about this moment had felt so comforting, that with each second it had only managed to draw you in even more.

“May I?” his voice came out as barely above a whisper, your breath hitching at the way you’d felt as though you were hanging from a string, the anxiety from not having done this before but the urge to just go ahead with it because it had felt so natural.

And soon enough, you’d felt his lips press gently against yours, sighing a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding as you let yourself follow his lead, feeling his hand move to touch the side of your head gently, the warmth from his hand flooding into your cheeks as you felt his hair brushing against your forehead with a featherlike pressure. It was as if every tiny detail was making itself known to you with the sole purpose of making you feel as if you were in some sort of perfect situation.

Almost deepening the kiss, Hyunjin stopped himself, pulling away almost reluctantly as his thumb grazed over your lower lip gently, his eyes looking dazed and unlike anything you’d seen before.

Feeling breathless and hazy, Hyunjin had let out a small huff, a smile making itself known on his face as he caressed your cheek softly, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, standing up as if nothing had happened, though you didn’t miss the way how this time he’d held a hand out for you to take.

Accepting his hand, he helped you up, but he hadn’t let go. Instead, he’d stepped just slightly closer to you, interlocking his fingers with yours as he turned to give you a smile, his eyes forming cute crescents and exuding pure relaxed happiness, something you were glad to have grown so accustomed to seeing and experiencing with him.

“What?” you asked, not being able to help yourself from feeling shy under his gaze.

“Walk you back to your cabin?”

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #skz #stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #stray kids au #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz au #skz scenarios #hyunjin au #hyunjin scenarios #enemies-to-lovers!hyunjin #demigod!hyunjin #stray kids imagines #skz imagines

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

I’m Here For You

Pairing: teen!Loki x female teen!reader (platonic) Summary: Loki comforts you when he finds you crying over school. Warnings: none :) A/N: Here you go nonny! In my head the reader has a tiny crush on Loki, but this can be read as an entirely platonic relationship. Hope you like it :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Reincarnations were a pesky business, really. Loki had been through it more than enough times to know. Unfortunately, his latest one didn’t go exactly as planned, and he’d ended up a kid. It wasn’t all bad, though, as now he had happy childhood memories. He still had the old, haunting ones too, but he no longer viewed youth with nearly so much disdain.

For the past number of years, he’d been living in the Tower with Tony, who he called his uncle but really was more of a father to him than Odin ever was. Thor dropped in fairly often too, and their brotherly bond seems to have benefitted from the little reset Loki went through.

Life on Midgard was different than Asgard, especially when he wasn’t being raised as royalty. Admittedly, he enjoyed the more laid-back life. He took walks in the parks, hung out with friends, went to the mall, and attended school just like everyone else. Ok, maybe not exactly like everyone else, considering he did still have thousands of years of knowledge.

Anyway, he was in his last year of high school, with only a few months left before graduation. Most of the people he knew were obsessing over their next step in the journey of life: college. Not him, though. For once, he was living for himself, and decided to take a gap year. College would still be there after. That is, if he wanted to go at all. Again, he did still have his old memories, so maybe he’d never even feel the need to. Maybe he could just travel the world helping others or work with Tony in the lab. Either way, he wasn’t in any particular rush to figure it out.

Loki was about to head into the renowned Tower he called home when he swore he heard sobbing coming from somewhere. He shoved his keycard back into his messenger bag and walked around the small campus to where he thought the sound was coming from. Stopping in front of some bushes, he saw the outline of a girl hunched up into herself through the leaves. The young god cleared his throat to alert her of his presence, which prompted her to quickly stop making noise. Though, he still could see her body convulsing from the now stifled sobs.

Sighing, he sat on the ground. “Hey, is everything alright back there?” No reply. Maybe it was more than just embarrassment stopping them. Maybe they also weren’t supposed to be here. He decided to try to lighten the mood with some playfulness. “You know, Tony doesn’t mind people being on the campus, but I gotta warn you, he’s kind of cheap with tissues he buys. I’m thinking of getting a handkerchief. What do you think? Is it possible to make me look any dorkier than I already do?”

That earned him a light chuckle. “You don’t look dorky at all. Like ever.”

He startled and said your name, not having realized it was you back there, but recognized your voice. “Is that you? Hang on, I’m coming back.”

You were Stark’s newest prodigy intern. He’d started the program a few years ago, giving some kids an inside look and experience in the tech field. This year, your application had been chosen out of thousands. You were a bright teen, so it made sense to Loki. He’d talked to you a few times before, but the conversations were incredibly short as you were extremely shy, barely even lasting two full minutes. Still, he’d been sure to give you a wave and a smile when he came across you, but it didn’t really ever do anything to help you out of your shell.

After crawling through the greenery, he plopped down next to you in the small, squished space between the bushes and the building. You’d scooched over a little so there would be room for him. He hated the way you were still holding in your cries.

“It’s alright. Just let it all out, ok?” he hesitantly said. That seemed to be all the encouragement you needed before your tears took over again. Slowly, so you could pull away if you wanted to, Loki wrapped you in a hug. When you calmed down, for real this time, he finished rubbing a last few large circles on your back before pulling back a little to look at you. “Feeling better?”

You nodded. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” he parroted back in question. His thumb caught one of the last tears trickling down your cheek. “Whatever for? There is no need to apologize for having emotions.”

“Your shirt,” you sniffled.

He looked down to see it was, in fact, wet from your tears. He just shrugged. “I’ve got more. Besides, it’ll dry.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“No worries, kid. Want to come in now? I could make you some tea or coffee or hot cocoa or whatever. Name it.”

“Can I have some cocoa? I-if it’s not too much trouble,” you mumbled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“Of course! And you know I was kidding about the tissues, right?” he chuckled, fishing a pack out of his bag.

Once you’d cleaned yourself up a bit, the two of you crawled out from your hiding place, Loki offering his hand to help you stand. Then he led you up to the kitchen to get your drink. Tony would have had no problem with you using the kitchen—or any of the rooms in his home, really—but you were too nervous to overstep and never actually did. You were both seated with mugs of the thick, steamy, chocolaty liquid before Loki tried to find out what was wrong.

“So. What’s up?” he began.

“Oh, nothing. I’m fine,” you replied with a falsely bright smile.

“Kid, I know a thing or two about crying. You’re not fine.” You ducked your head in shame, and he was quick to clarify himself. “And that’s not a bad thing! You’re human, you have human emotions. No one’s ok one hundred percent of the time. And... And you don’t have to talk about it, but maybe you should. It might make you feel better. So, if you want to, I’m here.”

“It’s stupid,” you shook your head with a wry laugh. Your lip was quivering, more tears threatening to spill. “School is stressing me out.”

“That’s not stupid, it’s how you feel. And, might I add, it’s perfectly understandable and valid. I mean, not only are you trying your best there, but you also come here every day for your internship. Norns, you must be freaking Supergirl or something.”

You chuckled at the colloquial from his home world. “I dunno about that now. It just... It seems like no matter what I do, I’m not good enough. I don’t have the best grades, or the most friends, or the prettiest looks, or the greatest anything, really. Ugh, it all just feels so pointless sometimes.”

“You know what? You’re right. It does all feel pointless. But it’s not. Don’t get me wrong, school doesn’t measure how smart you are; it measures how good you are memorizing stuff and taking tests. Which is incredibly frustrating! But it helps you explore some subjects and have fun with the friends you do have. The most important thing it does, though, is teach you perseverance. Like we said, school’s hard. But you keep trying, no matter what. And I see a smart, talented, beautiful young girl before me. Your feelings are valid, but don’t let them consume you. Trust me, you have a lot to be proud of.”

Loki picked at his nails while you stared at your mug, mulling over his words. He worried he said something wrong or overstepped in some way, but he’d been where you were not too long ago.

“Thank you,” you finally said. “I don’t think I can just fix everything overnight, you know? But what you said really does mean a lot.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Loki responded with a warm, friendly smile. He took a swig of his own drink, choosing his next words carefully. “No one should expect you to fix anything that fast. As long as you’re trying, you’re doing something right. A lot right, actually. You deserve breaks too. And if you ever need someone to vent to or whatever, I’m here.”

“Thanks again. And I’m here for you, too.”

He gave you a natural, lopsided grin as the two of you exchanged numbers. He was glad to see you were much more at ease, though still considerably shy with him. Still, he could imagine you becoming more bold as your friendship blossomed. You timidly ducked your head when Tony walked in.

“Oh no. You better not be turning her to the dark side,” Tony teased as he made himself a cup of coffee. “I’ve had enough pranks for a lifetime.”

“Relax, Uncle Tony. I haven’t recruited her for any mischief... Yet,” he joked back with a wink in your direction, causing you to giggle behind your hand.

“Whew, that’s a relief. Well, if you two aren’t plotting my untimely demise, feel free to head to the lab whenever you want, kid.”

“Actually, I’m good to go now, Mr. Stark.” You stood up and grabbed your bag from beside your chair where you’d left it earlier. “Bye, Loki. Talk soon! And, uh, thanks again.”

With one final smile, you scurried off to your destination. Loki smiled back and waved as you left, feeling some sense of hope and direction bloom in his chest. You’d given him an idea.

“Hey, Uncle Tony. I was thinking, how would you feel about another Stark Industries youth program?...”

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aimeelouart · 3 years

Note

I dunno how you feel about Rufus, but I think it’d be kind of interesting to see if he found a young time travel Cloud instead of the 1sts. Like it starts off where he like “oh another shinra bastard” but by the end evolves to “if anyone hurts Cloud I’d kill everyone in this tower and then myself” lol

The Tanuki of Shinra Tower - 2106 words, roughly the same continuity as SSC, so Cloud looks like a kid

Rufus blinked at the little blond child, freezing halfway through his office door. The little blond child glared back from the wall, a knife clenched between his teeth. Slowly, he slid back into the vent he was hanging out of and pulled the cover closed behind him.

“Huh,” said Rufus. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed Veld’s office.

⁠—

The child was back, this time raiding the break room for food at the asscrack of dawn. He paused when Rufus came in, eyes briefly flitting down to where Rufus’s guns were holstered, before apparently dismissing him as unimportant and going back to rooting through the fridge.

Rufus narrowed his eyes, a little insulted but more than curious enough to set his annoyance aside for the moment. He realized what he hadn’t the first time⁠: the tiny little thing had mako in his bright blue eyes. The tiny little thing had a SOLDIER’s enhancements. So Rufus leaned against the wall by the door and crossed his arms over his chest, observing as the child picked up a container of leftover wutaian noodles, sniffed it, made a face, and put it back.

Had his father handed one of his bastard children over to Science? It didn’t seem like something he’d do, but at the same time it didn’t seem like something he wouldn’t do. And if the little thing was an experiment, why was he running amok like this? Veld hadn’t had a clue that a blond child was loose in the vents when he’d first called, though Rufus and the Turks in general were starting to think the kid had something to do with the many mysterious happenings around the Tower.

The kid finished his raid as Rufus watched thoughtfully, standing up with an apple in his mouth and a half-eaten sandwich in one hand. He kicked the fridge door shut, cast Rufus one last uninterested look, and scrambled back into the open vent, closing it behind him with his bare feet.

“Huh,” said Rufus.

He mentally dubbed the child Tanuki and set the coffee to brewing before he went back to his office and called Veld again.

⁠—

The Turks weren’t making much progress on tracking Tanuki down, which was, frankly, hilarious. Some wild theories were being thrown around, mostly for entertainment and venting frustration that they were somehow losing to a child whose age wasn’t even in the double digits. The most popular theory was that Tanuki was actually a very lifelike robot.

Rufus’s personal favorite theory was that Tanuki was the hellspawn of Scarlett and his father. Scarlett, being a heartless bitch, had dumped her newborn baby in a reactor, from which he had then emerged filled with the wrath of the gods and spite enough to kill all of Shinra by a thousand petty cuts.

Considering how often the coffee makers in the executive floors had been mysteriously sabotaged, it seemed about right.

Rufus came back to his office from an executive meeting that had lasted well past 9pm, exhausted and determined to pick up Darkstar so that they could go home immediately. He found his dog, certainly, curled up in the corner of his office on her bed.

He also found Tanuki, sleeping like a pup against the barrel of her chest.

Starry raised her head and whined very very softly, short tail wagging as if to say ‘look what I have!’ Rufus toed off his shoes and crept over to crouch just out of arm’s reach, observing the boy’s sleeping face. Of course his murderous (pushover) guard hound would be the first to pin the child down. He shook his head and patted her flank. Her tail wagged harder.

The child woke all at once, eyes flying open and landing squarely on Rufus. It was impressive. He’d seen Turks who had far less control over themselves so soon after waking.

“Oh. You,” said the child in a sleep-roughened voice. He rubbed briefly at his eyes, yawning without actually opening his mouth. “Tell Darkstar to get off me.” One of her heavy forelegs was laid over his waist, keeping him trapped curled up against her. Mako strength or not, it was probably difficult to wiggle out from under a heavy, stubborn dog.

A little smile curled at Rufus’s lips. The kid was fearless. He liked it, especially in a maybe-possibly little half-brother. “Why would I do that instead of, say, calling a Turk while you’re stuck here?”

The kid shot him a wry look that didn’t quite fit his soft young face. “I could kill either or both of you instead,” he said with not an ounce of false bravado. Pointedly, he tapped the hilt of the knife at his waist with one finger.

“Then why don’t you?” Rufus was curious. What exactly were the kid’s goals here? Based on his preternatural skillset, he could probably have killed every single person in the Tower and gotten away with it.

“Too much trouble. I’d prefer you alive.” He reached up and scratched Starry behind the ear. She leaned into it, tail and tentacle waving happily. “And Darkstar is the most tolerable out of all of you.”

Fair enough. Rufus was satisfied for now. He whistled and Darkstar got up with a deeply reluctant whine, slinking sulkily over to his side. Tanuki got up too, stretching fluidly, and headed for the vents.

“Do you have a name?” Rufus asked impulsively.

The kid climbed up and slid into the vent feet-first, pausing to look at Rufus. A tiny, shit-eating grin curled at his lips. “All things considered,” he said, “I think the nickname you gave me is good enough for now. I’ll tell you when you’ve earned my name.” Then he closed the grate and vanished.

Rufus huffed. Alright then.

⁠—

The tiny acts of sabotage continued apace, much to the Turks’ frustration. Veld still had yet to see Tanuki himself, though a few of the younger Turks had caught glimpses. That might have been deliberate on Tanuki’s part⁠—he seemed to be something of a little shit. Rufus himself had semi-frequent, if unpredictable, conversations with the child, mostly when he caught him stealing food from the break room.

Or from his desk. Tanuki was shameless.

The child would pass on information when it suited him⁠—flash drives, printed files, occasionally physical evidence. It all seemed very random, but Rufus guessed that there was some kind of connection between everything. Whatever it was, it was inscrutable, even to Veld.

Or at least, it was until nearly all of Science was demolished in one fell swoop.

The chaos was incredible. As the reports rolled in, it seemed that dozens upon dozens of small events had neatly lined up to kill the top scientists and send the whole department screeching to a halt. Hojo was dead, killed by one of his own experiments. Hollander was dead, drowned in a vat of mako. Every fire sprinkler in the whole building had gone off and didn’t shut off for nearly thirty minutes. The physical damage was incalculable.

And Rufus had a feeling it was all Tanuki’s doing.

Oh, he had no evidence. But arranging something so grand in scale would certainly explain why someone of his skills had been doing nothing but relatively harmless sabotage for nearly three months. Veld agreed, when he voiced his thoughts. No one had any idea where the little gremlin was, or how he’d done any of it.

Rufus got part of an answer when he retired to his executive apartment at the top of the Tower, unwilling to go to his preferred home in the city proper when there was still so much work to do. Starry perked up the moment the front door opened, whining and bounding away from his side. Eyes narrowed, Rufus drew his weapons and crept into the apartment. If Starry was whining instead of growling, it was probably fine, but one could never be too cautious.

He followed the sound of Starry’s whines into the master bedroom. There was a trail of blood leading from the windows to the en-suite bathroom. When he entered, he found Tanuki curled up in the bathtub, head pillowed on a folded-up towel with Starry nosing at his hair. His hand was pressed over his stomach. Bright crimson soaked into his shirt and dripped trickled into the bathtub, flowing steadily down the soft incline and into the drain. His lips were tinged blue, cheeks pale, the dark circles beneath his eyes stark.

“Shit,” Rufus breathed, fumbling to holster his guns and pull out his PHS as he quickly crossed over to kneel by the tub. “Kid.”

Tanuki didn’t open his eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “Did you know...that…Hojo is...actually a...good shot?”

“Was,” Rufus corrected, hitting the speed-dial for Veld’s personal phone. It was the first time he’d ever used it.

Tanuki huffed a laugh. “Was,” he agreed. “Sorry. Tried not to bleed too much on your fancy expensive carpet.”

“Oh, make no mistake,” Rufus said, shucking off his white jacket and shifting the PHS to his other ear, “you’ll be cleaning it up later.”

“Sure,” the kid agreed, breezily enough that it made Rufus’s stomach twist strangely.

Veld picked up. “Rufus?”

“Tanuki is shot and bleeding out in my bathtub. Executive suite. Send medical assistance.” He paused. “SOLDIER kit, a surgeon if you can manage it.”

“Understood.” Veld hung up.

Rufus got another towel and pressed it against Tanuki’s torso, gently moving aside the little hand that could no longer press down with mako strength to staunch the bleeding. “Hold on, kid,” he told his maybe-possibly⁠ little...no, his definitely little brother. Because Rufus said so, and what he said went. “Help is coming.”

Tanuki didn’t say much of anything.

⁠—

The kid lived, though it was touch and go for a while. They couldn’t risk taking him down to the non-science medical floors just yet, so Veld came personally escorting one of the Turks' own medics. Assisting in emergency surgery on a mako-enhanced child on the floor of his bathroom was certainly not something Rufus was ever going to forget.

Eventually, though, long after his knees had gone numb and his back started cramping, the last bullet was fished out and the wound closed with a Cura, cast by Veld because the medic was exhausted. Rufus washed the blood from himself, then helped the medic wash the blood off the kid. They put him in Rufus’s bed, covers tucked up to his chin with heating pads (and Starry) around him to help as he recovered from blood loss.

The medic left, escorted back to her own floor by a younger Turk. Veld and Rufus both watched Tanuki sleep, lost in their thoughts.

“Did you know that Hojo was actually a good shot?” Rufus said abruptly.

Veld looked at him from the corner of his eye. “...no. That, I did not know.”

Rufus fished a bloodied USB drive out of his pants⁠—the same USB drive Tanuki had been clutching in his free hand. On its side, a neat label read ‘For Verdot: Valentine & Gast.’ He handed it over.

“I have a feeling he wasn’t just being glib about his own injuries,” he said, a wry, tired smirk pulling at his lips. “He’s a little shit like that.”

Veld read the label and slowly⁠—so slowly⁠—slipped the drive into his inner suit pocket. “Hm,” he said, a strange tightness in the corners of his eyes. It softened a little when he looked back at the kid. He leaned over, briefly resting his hand on top of Tanuki’s wild blond hair. “Get some rest,” he told Rufus, standing upright and straightening his suit jacket. “We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

On that cheerful note, he left.

Rufus glanced at his newfound little brother and sighed. Great. Now he had to sleep on the couch.

⁠—

When Rufus woke up the next day (late, because he deserved it for once, goddammit) he found Tanuki mysteriously missing and his fridge quite a bit emptier than it had been before he’d gone to sleep. He shambled around a bit, checking to make sure the kid hadn’t gone and holed himself up in a closet like a real tanuki or anything equally ridiculous.

There was a note on one of the pillows on his bed. In a surprisingly elegant hand, it read ‘call me Cloud.’ When he flipped it over, the other side had the name and number of a carpet cleaning company. Rufus threw his head back and laughed, startling Starry.

Yeah. Tanuki⁠—Cloud⁠—was going to be just fine.

#the tanuki of shinra tower #aimeelouwrites #ask #fic response #cloud strife #rufus shinra #veld #ff7 #my fics #deadchosenking

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

Cil and Von pls???

Funny enough, that's what @bi-julius-caesar wanted for their birthday! The exact prompt they asked for was 'Von humiliating Cil in front of Kohga and Sooga and Cil tries to hate fuck him but ends up getting fucked instead'. So, hope both of ya'll like it!

"With pleasure, Master Kohga."

Kohga loved having beefcakes to do what he said. And Cil was one of the many who were eager to obey. Like a show pony, he was eager to perform. In this case, he insisted on having him go head to head with Sooga. Not with weapons, but with their bodies, and bodies alone. Master Kohga was frisky today, it seemed. He watched angrily as Kohga held Sooga’s face, cooing in such a sugary sweet voice. The words fell on deaf words, lost in his frustration. Then he looked at him, and made a 'come here' motion with his finger. Cil damn near skipped over, but kept his proper form.

"I don't want you to go easy on him, understand? He needs to earn his prize."

"Understood. But pray tell, what IS the prize?"

Kohga thought about it for a second, before Cil saw that smirk of his (well not really SAW, but he felt it).

"Tell you what. Winner gets a kiss."

"...any kiss?"

"Eh what the hell, why not? Sure."

Oh he was going to murder him. Cil nodded, holding onto Kohga’s hand in his own, as a sign of respect.

"It shall be done, my Master. He will have to pry this trophy from my cold, lifeless corpse."

And he meant it. He doubt Kohga would let their match get that far, but if it came down to it, he absolutely would. Anything for that kiss he needed oh so badly. For that kiss he deserved. He stepped in front of Sooga, and drew his blade. He double checked his hair in the reflection of the blade, before digging it into the floor. Sooga followed suit, both blades wedging into the wooden floors.

"I appreciate your seriousness, Cil. You and I both know that we strive to please our Master."

"Of course. He deserves nothing but the best. As in, me."

Sooga huffed. Good, he was getting under his skin. Cil stretched for a moment (maybe showing off a bit for Kohga), making sure his body was ready. Sooga followed suit, before nodding. He was ready.

"You recall the rules."

"No weapons, no yiga special techniques. Just our body's strength, and our wits. And of course, mask stays on. On our Master's mark, if he may grace us."

Kohga loved this part, they could tell. He was about to start, when Von joined him, clearly excited.

"Aye my BOYS! Master Kohga, I can watch right?"

"Long as you don't interfere again."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. Shutting up right after this-good luck guys!"

He gave them a thumbs up, and Cil rolled his eyes. Ugh. Ever supportive, Von was. Kohga helped himself to a drink, before sitting up in his chair.

"On three. One. Two. Three!"

Cil was so motivated by the idea of getting his prize, he leapt for it first, bringing his fist down right into Sooga’s chest. Sooga got pushed back a bit, but didn't hesitate to grab Cil's arm, yanking him into a nasty headbutt. It was a cheap move, unlike him honestly. It was weird, until he heard Kohga holler behind them. It was a show for their master, not effiencity. Oh the cheek. He felt himself snarl at such a cheap trick.

"Oh you kiss ass!"

"You're just upset that he prefers looking at me."

Cil grit his teeth, before he dove for him in essentially a tackle. These little sprawling sessions were really just 'beat the shit out of someone until they're either unresponsive, or quit'. So tackling, although it was a bit barbaric, was pretty acceptable. Given how loud Von swore, it was quite a spectacle as well. He kept himself on top of him, starting to bring his fists down onto him. He aimed for his chest, his shoulders, even his head. Sooga kept trying to block, and Cil was happy he did.

"That's it, give me more of you to hurt!"

He wanted to bruise him. Wanted to walk away from this in absolute shame. Like a wounded street dog. He clasped his hands together, about to bring the combined force of his fists, when he was suddenly forced onto his back. Sooga had damn strong legs, and he often used them to his advantage.

"Your fury shall be the end of you, Cil."

He grabbed him by his head, about to slam it onto the floor, when he was interrupted by a very loud, VERY annoying Von.

"COME O N CIL, YOU GOT THIS BUDDY!"

It was annoying, and just the distraction he needed. He brought his fist up to his stomach, giving him just enough time to squirm out of his grasp. He managed to get Sooga’s head in his arms, in a headlock if you will. Sooga squirmed so adorably, he could pop his head like a cherry.

"That's it. Thrash. I'll crush your head like a fucking egg. I could watch the blood trickle down your ears as I make your brain mush. Or you could give up, and I could claim my prize. The one I d-"

He didn't get to finish. See, there was an issue with Von being both of their friends. He never picked a side, and always wanted things to be even. So, of course, it was his turn to help Sooga.

"SOOGA PULL HIS HAIR."

"NO WAIT-"

Too late. Sooga had reached up, dug his fingers into his hair, and pulled. It undid all the hard work it took to get it looking so pretty, and it made Cil moan. Loudly. He had just pulled it so hard, his blood was already pumping- it just happened. The cheers from everyone watching suddenly became a confused silence, and Cil hated that when he looked down, Sooga was obviously very uncomfortable. Cil let go of him, and turned to look at Von. Good. He knew he was in more shit than a horse stable.

He walked away, grabbing his blade on the way out. A foot soldier, their little referee, cocked his head to the side.

"Is this a forfeit?"

"...yes. Unfortunately, I yield."

He tucked his sword away, and as he walked out of the arena, and grabbed Von by his shoulder. Once they were out of the ring, and into Cil's room, Von FINALLY started to panic, hands up in defense.

"Cil don't be mad I didn't think you were gonna-"

"You made him ruin my hair. You made him humiliate me in public,"

Cil stepped towards him, slowly, and Von stepped back, clearly trying to get away from him. He made it a good distance away, before his back was against a wall. Cil put his hand up, keeping Von trapped. He wasn't going anywhere, they both knew it.

"You made everyone realize WE do things together. You made me come off as some sort of whore. You not only brought shame to me and me and our Master, but you made me LOSE. I deserved that prize. But thanks to you, I lost. LOOK AT ME."

Cil grabbed him by his throat, and listening to his choked up words of protest were music to his ears.

"I'm going to make you regret having a voice. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to use you until I decide I'm not fucking mad at you anymore."

He threw Von onto his bed, crawled on top of him, and just when he was about to peel those clothes off, Von coiled some of his hair in his hand, and pulled. Like a a horse, he turned docile under his hand, suddenly not feeling so angry. Von laughed, pushing their masks aside, just enough to reveal their mouths. Never enough for their faces.

"Aye...so angry and so bitter, buddy. Easy does it. I know how you get when you don't get what you want. Come here. I'll give you a kiss."

Was it Kohga? Absolutely not. But after getting all riled up from a fight, he'd take it. He pressed his lips against his, swearing under his breath. Him and and Von have had a few...choice encounters, so this wasn't new. But Cil still hated it. There was still that shame, that bitter taste of defeat, not getting who he wanted. And Von knew it. It was silent, yet obvious. Yet, Von acted as if that awkwardness didn't exist. Cil sighed. He was still angry, but his cock was taking away some of that stress.

"You're a pest. And I'm still angry."

"You're always angry. Now come on, clothes off."

He waited till Von let go of his hair, before he sat up, removing everything but his mask. Von gave a loud, headache inducing whistle.

"Dunno why you had to strip, you could've just flexed this off, god damn."

Cil was about to insult him for such mindless flattery, when Von held his cock in his fingers. He toyed with the tip with his thumb, watching as Cil melted on top of him. Cil huffed in his face, annoyed still.

"You shouldn't make me feel good. But you know what I need."

"I've known a few cocks, my guy, they more or less need the same thing. But yours is the cutest!"

"Not this again..."

Cil smacked his mask with his hand, groaning. Von laughed, clearly finding it funny.

"I'm sorry but it's such a cute lil cock! It's like a wittle itty bitty carrot! You know how sometimes it doesn't grow right but you love it anyway because its special?"

"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to hang your corpse on-"

He was silenced when Von scooted down, and put his cock past his lips. He stiffened up for a minute, before relaxing, digging his fingers through Von's mop of hair.

"Ugh. So messy. Your stupid hair. You should let me fix it properly. If I have to hold it while I use your mouth, it should at least not look sloppy."

"Aw, is that a date?"

Von looked up at him; kissing at his tip. Cil scoffed, pushing himself back into his mouth. Much better use of his lips than the constant smart mouth.

"It isn't. It's a standard that I want...met."

He could tell Von knew. He was already getting close. That's what fighting did to a true yiga. Made them aroused, eager for more. Von peeled away, watching as the little cock ached for more.

"Well I want MY dick to meet that ass, so on your front, princess."

"I grow weary of that nickname."

He complied however, trading Von spots. He laid on his stomach, letting Von apread his ass, and rub his thumb over his asshole.

"But you're SUCH a pillow princess! You lay there, pushing against me and waiting for me to help you cum. And you look pretty too. Nice hair, a damn nice back. You take care of yourself, I REALLY can't believe you don't get fucked more often. Think its the attitude. But I like it."

Cil grabbed onto one of the pillows, tensing once Von dragged his tongue against his asshole.

"Don't....say that while you're doing such things. It's...v...vile."

It was gross. He kissed the same lips that kissed his asshole, and he loved it. Von's tongue moved in little circles, drool cascading down and meeting his aching cock. Von chuckled, pulling away after a second.

"You just mad because it's not Kohga saying it. Ease up big guy, you're gonna get what's comin' to you."

He was about to bark at him, recalling why he was mad to begin with, when he felt goosebumps at his skin. Right. Von was...well equipped, unlike himself. It felt good grinding against him.

"Just...ugh. Be silent and put it in already."

"Such a grumpy wumpykins. Fine."

He leaned down to kiss his jaw, before he adjusted his clothes, and pressed his bare cock against his ass. Cil tried not to, but he found himself pressing against against him, body needing SOMEONE to touch him.

"You remember the rule."

"Right right, finish on the ass, not inside, and tell you so you act like you don't like it- I know I know."

Cil didn't want to admit that he wanted him to just fuck him already. But thankfully, Von let him get away with that one, and pushed his cock inside his ass. He held him still, as his size was STILL a bit much for him. He groaned as his body tried to accommodate, trying not to tear open the pillow in his hands.

"SLOWLY, you fucking moblin."

"This IS slow, you just don't get fucked enough to be used to it."

He was going to back talk further, when Von grabbed some more of his hair, giving it a gentle pull as he started to slowly roll into his ass.

"I...oooh...mmmph."

He hated the sounds he made when he felt stuffed. But it felt so...good. Von chuckled, hand roaming from his hip, up his back.

"That's it. You've got no dick, and ass is pancake flat, but when you finally get tamed...damn you sound so pretty. You like it when you get a good stretch, eh?"

"I DESERVE a cock. The fact that it's yours is unfortunate."

"Sharp tongue for a man with a thick dick in his ass. Lemme taste it."

He laid on him again, pressing his lips against his, and letting his tongue roam over his. Von knew he hated kissing so much, but this time he was grateful, as it helped keep his moans muffled, if only slightly. They sat there for a moment, sweat glistening off their bodies and swears filling the air. Then Von started to move properly. He started to buck his hips into his, balls smacking against his own as their hips bucked together.

"Shit Von...You’re throbbing inside of me. It's shameful."

"Funny way of saying you really like my dick. It's fine, I like this ass of yours. Looks good when you're taking it. Don't think I've fucked someone so big and delicate."

"I'm NOT deli-"

He was cut off when Von yanked his hair, starting to pound into his ass.

"Not delicate? Look at you fumblin' over yourself as I fuck that ass like a toy. My cute, baby dicked princess~"

He couldn’t even scold him. His vision was too hazy, his mouth was too busy biting into the pillow. It felt just. So good, letting this man use him to please his cock.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna bust a FAT fucking nut because of you. Come on, let's see what kinda load those little balls of yours can give me."

Cil was the first to cum, whining loudly once he finally hit that peak. He sat there in his mess of sweat and cum, before Von joined him. He pulled his pretty hair, pulling out just in time to cum on his ass, and on his back. Von still kept moving, albeit much slower, snearing his thick cream in between his cheeks. Von grumbled against his sudden mouth full of feathers.

"They're...not small."

"Size of chickaloo tree nuts. But I love 'em anyway, princess."

Von finally got off of him, laying right next to him. Cil sat there, trying to recover. He silently listened as Von lit up one of his cigarettes, helping himself to a nice smoke, blowing rings into the air. Cil inhaled, before slowly exhaling.

"Why I insist on entertaining you, I have no clue."

"Because I got a fat dick. And I'm funny as hell."

"Funny looking, you mean."

Cil didn't move as he shifted his gaze to meet his. Von grinned, taking another puff, before leaning over and smacking his ass. Least, what was supposed to be his ass.

"Ha! After all this time, my guy still got jokes! I love it! Good to see I took a...load off."

"Stop."

"Even though it was very HARD."

"VON."

Von grinned like the idiot he was. Cil hated to admit it to himself but...well. he did get the gold medal, but silver was just as good. For now.

#asks #lemon #kohga #sooga #von #cil #i stayed up so late writing this-#bitch if you dont like at least ONE thing about it #imma KERMIT

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6 The Problem with Perfection spoilers!!

Hey all!! So, people asked to see the part of the chapter where Mondo was, uh... rude, so I figured I’d post it, since it’s already written. And it’s gonna be a while ‘til the companion piece (which is titled “The Problem with Mondo,” ha) is released, but there are no real spoilers in this section, and the one spoiler there is, I cut out.

The section is below the cut! It’s about 5,000 words, starting right after Mondo leaves the store to find Taka. There will be some things that don’t make sense, since the context was written in earlier chapters of the companion piece, or ins later chapters of The Problem with Perfection (TPWP) so beware of that, ha. Also, since Mondo is far more foul mouth than Taka, there’s a TON of curses in this section, ha. I don’t curse in everyday life, like... at all. Not even when upset. So it may not be super natural, but I did my best.

I will also say there is a warning for internalized biphobia in this segment, so beware that. And, of course, the use of the same slur in the TPWP chapter.

I hope this explains things!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quieter than anyone would ever give him credit for, Mondo slips out of the computer store and into the chill late September air. He doesn’t even feel the cold as he looks around, trying to see if he can find Ishimaru hanging around the area, perhaps still crying or some shit. When he doesn’t see him, Mondo turns to the general store across the way, hoping the kid did what he said and went there, and that he didn’t just say ‘fuck it’ and returned to the school. Shit. He truly hopes he didn’t do that. It would make it worse if he decided to leave their class outing just because Mondo was a fucking idiot. Goddamn.

The general store looks exactly the same as every other general store Mondo has ever been in, and with his advanced height, he’s easily able to look over the top of the shelves, his eyes scanning for a very, very familiar frame.

It takes him only a few seconds before he spots him.

Fuck, he looks sad... he thinks to himself, gut roiling. The kid is staring blankly at the shelves, face fucking despondent as shit, and Mondo doesn’t think he’s seen anything that looked so fucking sad before. It makes him want to rush over to the kid, wrap his arms around him, and tell him it’s going to be okay, but it’s a stupid fucking desire so he firmly pushes it away. Besides. It’s not like Ishimaru would appreciate it.

Mondo gives himself a single moment to stare, trying his best to calm his fucked-up stomach, before walking over to the kid, silent as a mouse. He has no idea what he’s going to say, his head too fucking scrambled to even begin thinking of that shit, but it doesn’t matter. He’s mostly here so Ishimaru can get his revenge and feel better already, shit. It would prolly be better if he said something super fucking stupid, to get that fiery hatred to rise in those fucking gorgeous eyes of his.

He knows the second Ishimaru notices his presence behind him. The kid had actually been kind of loose before, even if sorrow and resignation clung to him like a blanket. But the instant Mondo gets close, the kid goes so fucking stiff and rigid it ain’t funny, looking like a statue again. Or glass. Fragile fucking glass...

Knowing he has to say something, Mondo takes a deep breath and just fucking... goes for it.

No time like the present...

“Hey, uh, look, Ishimaru-” Mondo starts, feeling so fucking awkward, but he doesn’t have the ability to say anymore before Ishimaru abruptly cuts him off, eyes blazing as he fucking glares. Not at him, at the display, but shit, it’s still so fucking impressive. God, but if he ain’t so fucking beautiful alive when he glares...

“Look, Owada-kun, I am not in the mood, so if you have any decency in you whatsoever, you will kindly leave me alone!” Ishimaru hisses, eyes like lasers as they glare at the dried ramen on the shelf. If it were possible to set things on fire with a glare alone, those noodles would be toast, he thinks humorlessly. Shit… but damn, he truly fucked up, didn’t he… shit.

Silence falls between them, then, and he sees Ishimaru move on from the ramen, looking so tense and upset Mondo aches with sympathy. And he... fuck, he really should just do as the kid said, just leave him the fuck alone and let him pick himself back up, but he... he just can’t. He still hasn’t apologized, hasn’t let Ishimaru tear him a new one, and he... he just can’t leave now. Not when Ishimaru still looks so fucking sad.

So, Mondo just trails after the boy like a ghost, feeling so fucking awkward, but not really knowing what to say. He can see tears shining in the boy’s eyes and it makes him feel like absolute shit. It might be better to just leave him alone, but fuck if he doesn’t fucking wanna do that. He has no idea why he cares so fucking much about this fucking kid, but... but he just does, goddamn.

Finally, after a few awkward minutes have passed, Mondo decides to say ‘fuck it’ again and just... goes for it. Allowing his voice to sound softer and kinder than it ever has sounded before, his face open and honest should the kid decide to look at him, he speaks, hoping that Ishimaru doesn’t think he’s making fun of him, god...

“You really mean it when you say you’re not rich, don’t you?”

He doesn’t quite know why he says that, of all things, but he doesn’t regret it. Not even when Ishimaru freezes, eyes wide and watery as they look at the styrofoam cups he’s for some reason staring at. He even lets himself speak properly for once, the way his bro taught him, before he then taught him to speak improperly to piss off the authority. He knows his words can be taken in a negative way, knows that it could sound like he’s making fun of the kid, but he... he hopes that Ishimaru can tell he’s being serious, for once. And if he can’t, and he decides to get blindingly angry at Mondo, well... ain’t like he doesn’t fucking deserve it, shit.

When Ishimaru looks up at him, eyes blazing, mouth open to prolly tell him to ‘leave me the fuck alone’ (or, you know, without the curse since the kid is so fucking innocent he refuses to curse ever, shit), Mondo thinks that the second option is more likely to happen here. And while he kind of fucking hates it, he doesn’t blame the kid. It makes him feel uncomfortable to have his face be so open and vulnerable when faced with such anger, especially since he never lets his face look like this, god, but he fights to keep it like that. He wants Ishimaru to knows he’s being serious, for once.

It’s what the boy is fucking owed.

And then... to his complete and utter surprise...

Ishimaru relaxes. His shoulders lose that angry tilt to them, his face stops looking so pinched, and his eyebrows stop being so furrowed they might as well be a unibrow. He turns back to look at the cups, still looking sad and upset, but he... he doesn’t look angry.

S-shit...

Several seconds pass in awkward fucking silence, Mondo thinking the kid will just continue to ignore him until he finally is forced to awkwardly shuffle off, feeling worse than he ever has before, when...

“No, Owada-kun. I am not. Not even close. You... you told me, last week, that I could never understand what it’s like to go to bed hungry. You couldn’t have been more wrong. I often did, my father unable to pay off our debts and feed us at the same time. I often wondered if I’d waste away from lack of nutrition, like the starvation victims I’d see in my textbooks. My... m-my mother, she... she died, because we could not afford her cancer treatment. I... I am not rich, Owada-kun. And it is highly unlikely that I ever will be. No matter what lies I may tell myself to get through the day…”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Holy shit!

He... he never would have expected that from the kid. And he’s not even just talking about the words themselves, though fuck is that sad. His ma really died because they couldn’t fucking afford treatment...? Shit, he thought shit like that only happened in backwards countries, like America or something, god fucking damn.

But it’s not just that that has him so fucking shocked, looking at the kid as he stares at the cups, mouth pulled down in the saddest fucking grimace he’s ever fucking seen. No... it’s the fact that Ishimaru told him this, of all people. Why... why would he trust him like this? After all he’s done, all he’s said... why would Ishimaru trust him to not be a fucking douchebag, like he always is? Why would Ishimaru trust him at all, when he’s done absolutely nothing to earn that trust? G-god... s-shit... it’s almost too much for him, and part of him wants to run away. To flee this moment and never have to deal with Ishimaru’s stupid ass trust. He...

He doesn’t deserve it...

But...

But Mondo still hasn’t apologized.

And if Ishimaru isn’t inclined to tear him a new one, and is instead giving him a chance to make things right, then...

Then he can’t fucking ruin this golden chance.

And so, he... he decides to show how sorry he is by showing Ishimaru the same trust that the boy just showed him.

It’s what the kid is owed.

Even if it does make his skin fucking crawl...

“Wow, that uh... that really fuckin’ sucks, man. I mean... freakin’. But I, uh... I get it, ya know? It uh... it was the same, for me. Well, not exactly the same, but... s-see, my folks they, uh... they weren’t exactly the best, heh. Da didn’t exactly hang ‘round long, and ma died not too long after. I barely even remember ‘em, ta be perfectly honest. Just a blur of angry faces and drunken words. My older brother, Daiya, he uh… he raised me. Took care a’ me. We never had much, but as long as I had him, I was good, ya know? But... but I still hated it. Bein’ so poor. Never havin’ even a fraction a’ the things the kids at my run down schools had. I remember gettin’ so angry whenever I’d see one a’ my classmates totin’ ‘round some new gizmo or whatever, not even realizin’ just what I’d give ta have something even half as nice. I... I was always so angry, back then. Still am, heh… ‘specially here, at this school... it... I dunno. S’hard. And you… ya just... I dunno. Ya remind me a’ them. The kids I knew. The ones I hated...”

Mondo pauses here for a second, before he looks up at Ishimaru and chuckles softly.

“But I get now that y’ain’t like ‘em, are ya? You... ya get it. What it’s like. Ta have fricken nothing’ while wantin’ everythin’. Ya know, ya… ya remind me a’ my bro a bit, heh. My bro, he, uh… he started my gang, ya know. Built it up from scratch. From nothin’. Always had big plans, Daiya did. An’ I don’t expect ya ta understand, but it’s all I got left a’ him now. He... yeah. Maybe I don’t like the violence as much as I prolly should, but I can’t just quit. I owe it ta Daiya ta keep the gang runnin’, keep us together. Honor his memory. Or somethin’ like that… shit. Uh, I mean… shoot. But, uh… my point is, while I may be a biker, I ain’t a complete a-hole, ya know? I do got some limits. An’ I shouldn’t a’ said what I did ta ya. Yer right, it’s uh... distasteful, ta talk ‘bout things like that, ‘specially in front a’ other people. I don’t expect ya ta accept it, but I am sorry. Genuinely. It was shitty a’ me ta do that, and if ya wanna hit me or somethin’, I won’t stop ya. I prolly deserve it.”

Mondo stops his rambling words abruptly then, his hands twitching at his sides. He feels so fucking exposed right now, everything in him feeling so wrong and vulnerable. He hadn’t told the complete truth, either, downplaying the way his da and ma really fucked him up, but he’d been more truthful than he’s ever fucking been. He’d even done his best to mind his language, knowing Ishimaru hates it when he curses. And while normally he wouldn’t care, he just... he wanted his apology to be genuine, fuck. Ishimaru still isn’t looking at him and he feels so uncomfortable it’s not fucking funny, but he fights hard to not storm away like he always does when uncomfortable.

It’s so fucking hard, but his restraint is proven to be worth it when Ishimaru turns to face him, a small, wry smile on his lips, his eyes... his eyes full of life for the first time that day, holy shit... and what he says...

“I thought you said that no one deserves to be hit, Owada-kun? Or does that not apply to yourself?”

Mondo cannot help how he blinks at Ishimaru with shock, mind blanking as he hears the kid fucking... fucking tease him, holy shit! He didn’t know the kid even had a sense of humor, but he’d clearly meant the words as a joke, since he’s smiling softly, fucking eyes dancing with a silent mirth.

As he gets over the shock at Ishimaru saying a fucking joke, he finds himself smiling. It’s small at first but grows more and more as he gets used to the idea of Ishimaru joking around with him, realizing he... he actually really fucking likes it. The kid smiling at him, for once, speaking to him almost like they’re friends or something. It... fuck, he has no idea how to describe the way it makes him feel inside, god.

Letting out a soft, relieved laugh, he feels so fucking glad that he didn’t mess this whole thing up. To try and let out the strange buoyancy he feels inside, he playfully shoves Ishimaru, not wanting to hurt him, but just wanting... to be playful and easy, to keep going with the unusual lightness their conversation suddenly has. He... god, it feels so weird, but also so... so nice, acting like this with Ishimaru... f-fuck...

“Aw, shut the hell up, ya nerd! I said no one deserves ta be beat, not hit. There’s a difference, idiot. Now come on. Hit me. I know ya wanna, ya goddamn goody-two shoes. Y’ain’t gonna get another chance like this, I promise ya that!” Mondo says, grinning like an idiot. He can’t help how he’s looking at Ishimaru, marveling at how nice the kid looks when he’s genuinely smiling. It... it’s making him feel so weird inside, and he knows his eyes are too soft, betraying everything he feels inside, but maybe it’s not so bad... not when Ishimaru is looking at him like that, g-god... like he’s not a fucking monster... like he might... might be...

Someone amazing...

He watches, heart pounding strangely, as Ishimaru curls his hand into a loose fist, looking like he’s never thrown a punch before, god. And then, weak as a fucking kitten, the kid, he... he fucking taps Mondo so lightly on his chest that if he weren’t watching it, he wouldn’t have thought the kid had touched him at all. It’s so fucking endearing, Jesus fucking Christ...

Mondo has no idea what is going on inside him at that moment, his insides feeling so fucking weird and squirming. It... it’s almost like fucking butterflies, but he knows it ain’t, he’s not fucking gay, shit. But... but god, it feels so nice... Ishimaru smiling at him feels- feels so nice...

Unable to help himself, he lets out the laugh that wants to escape, loud and boisterous, like he always does when genuinely happy. F-fuck... he’s not laughed like this in ages... unrestrained like this, loud and just... happy. So fucking happy.

Ishimaru... Ishimaru makes him feel so goddamn happy...

What the fuck…

Before he can stop himself, he feels his hand dart out and grab Ishimaru’s hand— which is still hovering over around his chest— and just... shit. Holds it close to him, pressing it right over his fucking heart. He doesn’t know why he does it, he just knows that it feels... natural or something. And the feel of Ishimaru’s hand under his, the flesh warm and smooth under his rough palm, the fingers curled so wondrously under his, it makes him feel- f-feel... shit, he doesn’t even know, he doesn’t know, and he... he doesn’t know what the fuck to do, holy shit.

The kid is staring at him with wide eyes, his cheeks the most beautiful shade of pink he’s ever seen, and his lips are partially open, his breathing shallow and uneven. Something about the look is making his head go all stupid, his brain full of static and cotton, his chest aching but not in a bad way, and it makes him want... w-want to...

“Man, Ishimaru-san, you, uh... you sure are somethin’ else, ain’t ya,” he says softly, softer than he’s ever heard himself sound before. His lips are curled in a small smile, and everything in him is feeling so, so weird. He can feel himself drifting closer and closer to the kid, not knowing why he’s doing it, why he wants to do it, but fuck, he can’t make himself stop. He feels so warm inside, warmer than he’s ever felt before, and his brain isn’t working, and he... he wants... he wants...

His eyes dart down to Ishimaru’s lips then, unbidden. They’re partially open, allowing Mondo to see a hint of a pink tongue sitting innocently passed the bitten lips, and it makes his gut lurch, heat blooming within him. H-holy shit... what the... t-the fuck...?

What would his lips feel like against your own? he hears a voice whisper inside him, making his breath hitch, and he knows he should push it away, should shut it the fuck up, but... b-but...

They look so fucking rough and warm, don’t they... bet they would feel so fucking nice, the kid pressing his body so firmly to you, hands in your hair... he’s always so fucking passionate, he’d prolly be a passionate kisser... maybe he’d even bite your lips to all hell, like he bites his own... and maybe then you can bite his, finally fucking feel those pale lips you’ve been dreaming about for so fucking long under your teeth, listening to the little noises that kid will prolly make, feeling so fucking much, fuck, Ishimaru is so fucking much and fuck is it so fucking hot-

Mondo gets cruelly jolted from the horrible fucking thoughts, holy shit when he feels Ishimaru jerk away from him, his eyes so wide and fucking horrified it’s not fucking funny. It takes him a second to realize what the fuck is going on, what had just fucking happened, but when he does, he... he...

Holy. God. Damn. SHIT.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit-!

What the goddamn fuck had he just- just done... what the goddamn fuck had he just thought?! H-he... he isn’t... he doesn’t... h-he doesn’t want to fucking kis- fuck! No! No, no, no! Nononononononononononono!!!!!

He’s not- fuck! He doesn’t think of- of dudes like that, h-he doesn’t- and yeah, maybe he’s had a couple dreams of Ishimaru and his- his eyes and his- h-his li- but it means nothing! Nothing, nothing, nothing! Y-you can’t fucking control what you dream about, so it means fucking nothing! Nothing nothing nothing!

As he looks at Ishimaru, the kid looking so fucking horrified, looking at Mondo with fucking disgust, Mondo knows he- he has to fix this, has to- has to make sure that fucking little freak doesn’t think he- fuck, it had to have been him! H-he was the one who- who had been drifting closer, who had gotten so close to him, who had almost- almost fucking kissed him, it wasn’t his fucking fault! I-it wasn’t- it wasn’t-!

“What the fuck... w-what the hell did ya... what did ya do ta me, ya fuckin’ freak?! What are ya, some kinda goddamn fairy?! Get the hell away from me, you f*g!”

Mondo can hear the horrified gasp the hall monitor lets out, the boy taking a step back as anger and hatred rise in his eyes. G-good... f-fucking good. H-he hates using that word, always beats the shit out of the sons of bitches who use fucking slurs like that, but he- he had to make sure Ishimaru knew- k-knew that he- he’s not... h-he’s not-

Ishimaru is glaring at him again, so far from the soft and open look from a moment before it stupidly makes him want to fucking cry, but he can’t do that, doesn’t do that, he just- just glares right on back and hopes that Ishimaru doesn’t see the way he’s shaking, his entire body and mind so fucking confused. Because he- he has no idea where the fuck that came from, why he- he had felt like that, why he had thought that, why he... why he wanted-

But no. He hadn’t. Hadn’t wanted, hadn’t wanted, hadn’t wanted at all. Ishimaru must have- have done something to him, fucking drugged him or something, it’s the only fucking explanation, holy fucking shit-

“I- I... you! I did nothing! I-it was you who... and how dare you, use such a word?! I’m not- not... that, but that gives you no right to use such language! You are lucky we are not on school grounds, or else I would give you detention for the rest of the year for using such a vile word! I- I have never been so disgusted before in my life! Y-you... you...”

Mondo feels a spike of absolute pain stab him then, making him want to gasp, but he can’t, can’t show weakness, oh god, so he just glares, letting all the anger and hatred he feels come to the surface as he glares daggers into Ishimaru. He masks the pain and the confusion and he just glares.

He listens as the kid trails off, as his eyes get shiny again, his lips (oh god, his lips) pulled down in the harshest grimace he’s ever seen, but he can’t let it sway him, oh god. After a moment of tense fucking silence, he hears the kid fucking sob, tears bright in his eyes, before he turns tail and fucking bolts. He strides away so quickly he might as well be running, and as soon as he reaches the door, Mondo sees through the window as he actually runs. He’s fast as a fucking bullet, like a fucking marathon runner, but Mondo can’t focus on that, fuck, he just can’t-

Mondo is stuck in place, his body fucking frozen in space, no idea what to do, until he sees the owner of the store storming over to him, looking pissed. Putting on his most menacing, ‘don’t you fucking even look at me’ glare, he only has to look at the old man once to make that fucking coward’s eyes widen and make him back off. Seeing as how he’s prolly gonna head to the phone to call the cops, which would just make his fucking day so much better, he decides to just fucking bail. He- he doesn’t want to be here anymore anyway, he just- just wants to be away, god-

He doesn’t realize he’d actually moved until he feels the chill late September air attack his face again, making him gasp harshly. Goosebumps are alive on his skin and he feels so fucking sick inside and all he wants is to get on his fucking hog and ride. Ride far from this fucking school, far from this fucking moment, far from- from what he- he had almost... almost done-

Mondo is moving before he realizes again, mind so fucking confused it’s not fucking funny, feet taking off in the opposite direction he saw Ishimaru go. He can distantly hear people calling to him, Leon saying his name, but he ignores them. And then he starts walking faster, not quite running since his endurance for running is fucking shit, but he definitely is going fast, his long legs helping him for once. Pretty soon he’s out of the fucking mall and he doesn’t quite know the way back to the school, but he’s always had a good fucking sense of direction, so it doesn’t take him long to see streets he recognizes that allow him to make it back to the school right fucking quick. He keeps his eyes peeled, making sure that no one fucking approaches him (and that he doesn’t accidentally run into the one person he wants to see the least), which thankfully doesn’t happen, thank fuck.

Before long he’s in the school parking lot and as soon as he’s there he makes a beeline for his baby, hopping on without a single fucking thought, keys already in hand to turn her on. He doesn’t wait a single fucking second before peeling out of the parking lot, not caring about speed limits or traffic as he speeds towards the highway.

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He has no fucking idea where he wants to go, or what the fuck he’s going to do; all he knows is that he has to be away, away, away. H-he can’t stand being in that fucking school, fucking surrounded by that goddamn fucking hall monitor, slowly losing his goddamn mind, shit! He... he just can’t!

At least while he’s driving, he doesn’t have to think. He just drives, faster and faster, avoiding the other cars without any fucking problem. He’s going far over the speed limit, pressing 160 KPH, but he doesn’t fucking care. If the cops try to pull him over, he’ll just lead them on a chase, fuck that would feel so fucking good right about now. It’s risky doing that shit when by himself, his plates on, but he just doesn’t fucking care, god! He just doesn’t care! He wants to fucking stop feeling like this, his body and mind fucking frozen in that moment, wondering what would have happened had Ishimaru not pulled away, had he erased those last remaining centimeters, had he been able to actually fucking kiss those fucking kissable looking lips-

Mondo drives faster. He drives faster and faster and faster, as fast as he fucking can, not caring where he’s going, just knowing he needs to be away.

(This part is cut out because there are ~~~~spoilers oooooo~~~~ Just know that Mondo is outside somewhere now. And he has alcohol, somehow that I can’t say because of spoilers, ha. There are some mild spoilers for the rest of TPWP in this next section, but nothing super major.)

He takes the cap off the whiskey bottle and he downs half the bottle in one fucking gulp. It makes him feel so fucking sick but he doesn’t fucking care, he doesn’t care, he just wants to not fucking think-

He’s not fucking gay. He’s not, he’s not, he’s not, god, he’s not! He hadn’t wanted to- to do anything with Ishimaru, he fucking despises Ishimaru, he has never hated anyone more! Fuck, even the thought of that fucking fairy makes him want to kill someone! Ishimaru could fucking die and he wouldn’t fucking care! He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t! He fucking, goddamn WOULDN’T!

You’re such a goddamn liar, Owada, such a goddamn fucking liar-

He drinks. He drinks. He drinks and he drinks and he drinks, until the ache in his chest is gone, until he can’t feel anything anymore, until all he feels is fucking numb.

Ishimaru means nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. He doesn’t know why he’s felt so weird about him before now, but like fuck is he ever going to allow himself to show that motherfucker any hint of mercy now. It’s decided. His life’s fucking goal is to make Ishimaru as fucking miserable as possible. He will do everything he can to break that motherfucker, so that he never fucking thinks he can get that fucking close to him again, so he fucking knows how disgusting and pathetic he is. Mondo isn’t gay. He’s not gay, and he has no problem with people who are gay, but he does fucking have a problem with Ishi-fucking-maru.

He’s not gay. He’s not gay. He repeats the words in his mind, staring blankly at the stars, not knowing when the sun had set and night came, but not really caring. He isn’t gay, he can’t be gay. He has nothing against gay people, and if he were gay, it wouldn’t be a fucking problem, but he’s fucking not fucking gay. He likes chicks. Breasts. Pussy. When he looks at a naked chick in his porno mags, or when watching porn, he gets so fucking hard. He jerks off every night to the thought of himself fucking pounding into chicks, of chicks blowing him, of him eating chicks out. He likes chicks, he’s fucking attracted to chicks.

He doesn’t like dudes. He just- he doesn’t. He fucking can’t, because he already likes chicks, and Daiya always told him he could only like one. Chicks or dudes. Dudes or chicks. Whichever he chose, Daiya would support him, he was a good fucking brother, but the one thing he always told Mondo was that he had to choose only one.

Their old man liked both. He’d have men over, sometimes, and do things with them. While their ma was in the next room, sobbing her eyes out, Mondo staring wide-eyed at the wall, not knowing what any of it meant, he’d been so fucking young. His da apparently did shit like that before Mondo was born, too, even when things had been better for their little family, before Mondo ruined everything with his birth. Daiya always hated it, said it was fucking despicable, and he told Mondo he had to choose one. He had to be faithful, monogamous, and you can’t be faithful if you like both. Daiya never said that aloud, but Mondo could fucking read between the lines.

Mondo likes chicks. He’s fucking allowed to like chicks. He doesn’t like dudes. He just... he doesn’t.

He is not his goddamn old man.

He doesn’t like Ishimaru. He hates Ishimaru. Him and his fucking wide, watery eyes, and his sad fucking smiles, and his lonely fucking demeanor. He’s never hated anyone more, shit. If he never saw Ishimaru again, it would be too fucking soon, because he’s a goddamn nuisance, who needs to be fucking put in his goddamn place. He needs to be brought down, needs to be reminded how worthless he is, needs to- to know that Mondo isn’t, that he hadn’t wanted, that he’s not fucking gay-

Mondo will never admit it, not to himself, but his cheeks are wet. He prolly spilled some whiskey on his face, or maybe it started raining, but whatever, it doesn’t matter. He stares at the stars, feeling so goddamn sick, wishing that he weren’t fucking alive. That Daiya hadn’t pushed him out of the way that day, that he had just let that semi ram into him, that he’d been the one who died and not-

His cheeks are wet, but it’s just from the rain. It always fucking rains, even though there’s not a cloud in the goddamn sky.

Mondo finishes the bottle, and he wants to die, but before he can die, he falls asleep. He knows he shouldn’t, it gets so fucking cold overnight, but maybe he’ll freeze to death and that will solve all his fucking problems. It’s not like anyone will care. Leon doesn’t care about him, he just wants Mondo around to make himself seem tougher. Fujisaki wouldn’t care, she was just trying to be nice to him earlier, humoring him so he wouldn’t hurt her. He doesn’t fucking know anyone else at that goddamn school, they all avoid him like the plague, so fucking scared of him, so they wouldn’t care. And... and Ishimaru...

He’d prolly be happy. If Mondo died. If Mondo went missing and no one ever found the body. He’d prolly be so, so fucking happy.

Mondo sleeps and he dreams of bright red eyes, drowning him with the accusations they always contain, the hatred and disgust sharper than any knife he’s ever felt.

He wakes with wet cheeks.

Goddamn rain.

#My fic #The Problem with Perfection #Mondo's POV #The Problem with Mondo preview #Danganronpa #Mondo Owada #Kiyotaka Ishimaru

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nukapind · 4 years

Note

Ohh, from the Au ideas, the first one, you're Bakugo's sister and Kirishima comes to study or something 👀👀👀 that would be so cute

Studying and Sirens (Kirishima x Reader)

Loved writing this tbh, it was cute! Feel free to send more requests, they don’t have to be from the prompt list. This was crossposted to my AO3.

Prompt: “I’m your sibling’s friend and I always hear you sing in the shower when I come over but today I actually met you and I didn’t expect you to be this hot”

___

Every time Kirishima asked Bakugo to help him study, there was some excuse to prevent him from going over to his house. It didn’t make sense why he’d always insist on studying at some cafe or at Kirishima’s house— which he didn’t mind, but it struck him as odd. There was always something in the way.

At least, he did until Bakugo apparently got himself grounded from leaving the house after a spat with his mom, and he finally allowed Kirishima to come over with a backpack full of textbooks. He rang the doorbell and the door slammed open, Bakugo’s regular scowl ever-present on his face. “Hurry up and get in.” He grinned at his friend, despite the obvious bad mood he seemed to be in, and stepped into the house.

It was a nice house, definitely nothing to be embarrassed about so that couldn’t be the reason that he didn’t want to hang out here. “My dad’s here, so keep your mouth shut.” Hands shoved in his pockets, Bakugo led the way upstairs. Pictures littered the walls of the home, many of what Kirishima assumed where his parents when they were younger (Katsuki was practically a carbon copy of that woman) and of a young Bakugo with a girl around his age. Some photos had them at each other's throats and others displayed happy birthday parties as they grew older across the photos.

Must be a cousin or something, maybe he could ask Midoriya later. He doubted he could get anything out when Bakugo was like this.

___

“Is that your mom singing or something? Who is that?” God he hoped not, it would be weird that he loved the voice that rang out. “No.” A curt response, but Eijiro knew he shouldn’t have expected any different. “Dude, who is that then?” The scowl on Bakugo’s face got tighter, angrier almost but he didn’t pay it any mind. “My sister.”

That definitely explained the pictures all over the walls.

“Woah dude! Why didn’t you tell me you have a sister?” “Why the hell would I?” He growled out, but Eijiro could only focus on the singing in the background. He couldn’t help but wonder if your face fit your voice, the photos on the walls were old, photos definitely hadn’t been added in years. Katsuki must have noticed Eijiro’s lack of focus, his brows pinched together. “Y/n, shut the hell up!” His voice roared, and Kirishima could barely hold back the pout. Sure, he may have learned your name, but at the cost of silence? He didn’t really know if it was worth it.

“Piss off! You never shut up when my friends are here!” That same voice that’d been so melodious just a few seconds ago snapped back, before quickly returning to a sweet song. Bakugo growled, teeth clenching as he stood up, ready to wreak havoc as he slammed his door open.

“Katsuki, leave your sister alone or your mother will get mad when she gets home!” A man, presumably Bakugo’s dad yelled from the downstairs of the house, making the blonde stop in his tracks. With a livid look on his face, the blonde turned back around, shut the door, and sat back down.

“Don’t fucking say anything.” He hissed out, and Kirishima almost felt bad. The unveiled singer would probably get the screaming of a lifetime from Bakugo later. But judging from the smug tone drifting through the air, he didn’t think they’d care all too much.

He nodded, trying his best to focus on taking his notes instead of imaging who could be behind the songs. ___

The study sessions at Bakugo’s house didn’t stop there— every Sunday he’d visit the Bakugo household and each time he did that same voice was still singing in shower. It distracted him every time he heard it, always earning him a kick to the leg generously given by Katsuki. It had gotten to the point where he’d pour over the textbooks on Saturday and actually study so that he could actually keep up with his grades. And yet the late night Saturdays spent studying seemed to be completely worth it in his eyes.

Except for today, when he woke up an hour late because he stayed up studying too late.

Bakugo was gonna fucking kill him.

He quickly slid his shoes on and grabbed the backpack sitting by the door of his room before bolting out the door. There wasn’t time to change, not with Bakugo’s temper, maybe if he still showed up then he would only get a loud scolding. His house wasn't all too far, he could make it there in ten minutes if he ran fast enough.

He panted as he neared the household, hero training certainly helped with endurance training, but it was still tiring to run long distances for anyone. A wince on his face as he rang the doorbell, preparing himself for the blonde boy’s wrath. Kirishima wasn’t on the guy’s bad side too often, he just hoped that it wouldn’t be too loud this time.

The door opened and he was wide-eyed.

“Oh, are you here for Katsuki? Good luck with him, he’s in one of his moods.” The same voice that he heard every weekend greeted him, the door widening to let him in. Quickly, he straightened himself up, and mentally cursed himself for not getting himself ready before this. His hair wasn’t gelled, soft and covering parts of his face. He was still in his sweatpants for goodness’ sake.

“Sorry, I think I might be the reason for that.” A sheepish smile on his face as he stepped inside the house, shutting the door behind him. “I wouldn’t worry about it, this is normal for him. He’s up in his room.” You laughed it off as you went upstairs, leaving him trailing behind you, averting his eyes down to focus on the steps rather than on your figure in front of him.

So… Bakugo has never really mentioned you at school, are you younger than him?” He tried to sound casual, but you two were already nearing the top of the stairs and he wanted to talk to you so badly. “Actually, we’re fraternal twins, but I guess he’s too involved with himself to mention me.” You joked back, laughing once again and he clung to that sound. “Oh that’s so cool! Do you two have the same quirk?” He tried not to sound too excited, but the fact that you were talking to him sent butterflies through his stomach.

“Nah, I just have our mom’s quirk, he got a mix of their quirks. But hey, at least I’ll age well.” The snort that came out of your mouth had to be the cutest thing he’d ever heard. As you two finally neared Katsuki’s room, he took a breath in. Time to shoot his shot “I dunno, I think it’s a cool quirk to have! You’d look just as pretty as you do now.” God he hoped you didn’t think he was creepy, and he also hoped that Bakugo hadn’t just heard him flirt with his twin sister.

“Do you have a pen in that backpack?” His face fell as you completely ignored his flirting. Did he come off too strong? Or did you just not like him? Regardless, he fumbled with the bag in his hand and pulled out a sharpie. “Does this work?” A grin crept on your face.

“Absolutely.”

His hand was taken into yours and the marker was pressed into his skin, vaguely making out numbers. “In case you need someone better to hang out with, gimme a call.” His cheeks reddened at that and he nodded quickly, your hand brushing his as you handed the pen back. “Have fun studying.” Humming, you retreated back down the steps.

The toothy grin on his face stayed all throughout the yelling he got from Katsuki.

Masterlist

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima eijirou #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima x reader #mha kirishima x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #request #my work

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redrosesartcabin · 3 years

Text

Self indulgent series Part 2.2 (last part for now)

Life part 2

(And here’s the link to Life part 1: https://redrosesartcabin.tumblr.com/post/643294968092442624/self-indulgent-series-part-21 )

It was two months since they had been in New York City.

Y/n was recording her newest album in her favorite studio in Dublin. She had felt a little strange in the morning but had just brushed it off as being especially hungry after eating had made the strange feeling almost entirely disappear.

But as she was getting into recording the songs, she felt it come back, and this time much, much worse. It converted into illness.

And in the middle of the sentence, she just couldn’t do it anymore; she ran.

“Mrs.Kon”, the producer, Mrs.Long yelled, “where the fuck are you going? You can’t just-“, but she stopped herself as she heard the singer throw up in the toilet.

“Dear god”, she uttered, getting up from her seat as did the other musicians. They had already noticed something had been wrong with Red Rose. She was usually very much into her songs and nothing could break her from that, so her just running out was very concerning.

“Mrs.Kon. Are you ok?”, the producer asked carefully, standing before the stall. She felt bad for having cussed out the singer so quickly.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, y/n answered, slowly getting out of the cabin, “I must have caught some bad bug or something. I should better go… I don’t want to, but I really don’t want to spread whatever I have either”

“That’s probably a good idea. Let’s meet next week then. We’ll talk about when over the phone, I still need to check the schedule”

“Ok. Thank you so much!”

“No problem. Get well soon!”

That however didn’t happen. Over the next few days y/n continued throwing up in the morning. She also had to go to the toilet much more often, had terrible headaches in the evening and slight back pains. And on top of that she noticed her period had skipped.

Eventually she decided to google the symptoms… and it all lead to one thing. (Not cancer luckily like google usually did!) The first article that popped up was-

“Pregnant?!”, she yelled out to herself.

Could it be?

But after thinking it over there was just no other explanation for the collective of strangely specific symptoms.

Immediately, she got up, went to the pharmacy and bought three different pregnancy tests.

“I want to be sure. This wasn’t planned you know?”, she told the pharmacist who looked a little surprised.

“I hope it wasn’t just a fling”, the pharmacist answered.

“Oh god no! I’ve been together with my husband for eight years and we’ve been married for two and a half. I’m good on that front. We’re however very busy people and-“

“It’ll be fine”, the pharmacist reassured her, “you’ll see. A pregnancy won’t stop you from too many plans I’m sure”

“Yeah… thanks”, y/n smiled back nervously.

“No problem. And good luck!”

With wide eyes she looked at the three positive tests.

“Christ… I actually… wow”

She loved Kenji and he loved her, but it wasn’t the best timing.

“So what though?!”, she yelled at herself, “then I’ll drive to his set and we’ll talk. But what if he’s disappointed? What if he thinks it’s inconvenient? What if he’ll get so scared- NO, don’t even go there, y/n, how dare you?”, but still she felt nervous.

She almost felt like throwing up again but decided she didn’t vibe with that.

“I have to be strong”, she whispered to herself.

So, she packed her things and drove off.

“Mr.Kon, your wife is here”, one of the staff members told Kenji as he got ready for the next scene.

“Oh ok”, he answered clearly surprised. He was happy to see her, because of course he’d always be happy to have her near him, yet at the same time he was annoyed she didn’t talk to him about it. He had a tight schedule, and he wouldn’t be able to tend to her as much as he’d like to and as much as she’d deserve, “send her in please”

“I will sir”, the staff member answered and only a couple of seconds later she entered. She was beautiful and radiant as always, yet something about her felt a little off.

“Hello, my darling”, he greeted her and gave her a passionate kiss she only returned shyly “, what are you doing here?”, he asked a little too annoyed. He hadn’t meant to sound like that, but her strange return of affection rubbed him the wrong way together with the fact she hadn’t talked to him about coming.

“Can’t I come surprise visit you without going completely off the rails?!”, she asked unusually aggressive.

“I mean sure; But first of all, I didn’t go off the rails and secondly: the way you act you barely seem like you actually want to”

“Which is partly true”, she answered. For a moment a moment of shocked silence passed before he took a deep breath and asked, very passively aggressive.

“Now, what is that suppose to mean?”, but before she could answer he was called for the scene.

“We’ll talk about this later”, he answered, glaring at her, which she returned with an equally angry stare. Of course, in actuality, they were both pretty hurt by this short yet very heated conversation. He was hurt because she seemed to be angry at him for something and was only here to announce that and she was hurt because she hadn’t meant to be like that.

At first, she pretended she was mad at him and sat down on the stool he had sat on to get ready, almost fuming.

How dare he be annoyed she was here without announcing her presence! But the more she thought about it, the more she recognized she had messed up. She had converted her nervousness and fear into pure ratchetness to appear right in the situation. And the more that became clear, the more she felt tears build up. Her emotions were all over these days. She was an emotional person under normal circumstances, but with her condition it was even worse. When she had seen him after two weeks of not seeing him in person, she had wanted nothing kiss him and spend hours hanging around and whispering sweet nothings. And at the same time, she almost fainted with how nervous she was about this whole thing.

“Gosh I’m a mess”, she whispered and couldn’t hold back the tears.

Two hours later, Kenji had finished with the scene.

He stretched himself, cracking his neck and shoulders and putting on a serious expression.

He was ready to face whatever she was mad about, even if it hurt him, even if it wasn’t true.

Opening the door with a bit too much force, he felt how worked up he was. But as he saw his wife bawling her eyes out on the couch in the right corner of the room, his facade he had built up to prepare for an argument dropped.

He was confused and concerned. She wasn’t angry? What was wrong? Yet he also asked himself what had her in such distress.

He however didn’t dare to touch her yet.

“Darling?”, he asked softly instead, his right hand hovering over her.

She turned around in a quick motion and threw herself in his arms.

“I’m so so so so so sorry”, she whispered, “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have been like that”

“Hey, hey”, he answered, wrapping his arms around her protectively, “It’s ok. Just tell me what I did wrong”,

“That’s the thing: You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why were you so angry at me?”, he asked, genuinely confused

“I’m not angry at you: I’m scared”, she explained, barely able to say it.

“Why? Have you done something wrong?”, he asked

“No… or well a little maybe… I don’t know. It depends”

“Depends?”

“On if you will be ok with it”

“With what? For Christ’s sake y/n, talk to me” he said, frustrated at the guessing game.

She stepped back, looking at him and wearing a sad smile.

She opened her mouth slightly, but not a word came over her lips. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and finally she spoke, “I’m pregnant, Kenji”

Deafening silence filled the room. Kenjis mouth and eyes were wide open in shock and surprise and for a while, he himself felt he was at a loss for words or even thought as he heard his heart hammer in his chest.

“By me, right?”, he asked after a couple of minutes.

“Yes, by you! Geez … You seriously chose that as your answer?”, she retorted, disappointed at the reaction.

“Of course: Why else would you think I’d be angry at you for being god damn pregnant?”, he asked his voice loud and unusually squeaky

“I was scared you’d maybe find it inconvenient and-“

“Y/n! I told you a thousand times not too overthink too much!”, he scolded her, but with a smile that indicated it was meant in a fun and good-hearted spirit, “I love you. You are my everything. You and especially not a life we created together could ever be an inconvenience. I love you and even if we were still too young, or too poor or at war, I’d be happy.”

She started crying again, but this time of happiness.

“Gosh I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you again… I should really stop overthinking. I love you so much”, she answered and gave him a salty kiss he still gladly accepted.

After a couple of months (after the mark where it was sure the baby would live and a miscarriage was unlikely), Kenji and y/n announced the pregnancy publicly which was received with a lot of well wishes and happiness by the fans as well as the family.

Plus, Kenji announced he’d take a break from participating in acting roles for the last three months of Red Roses pregnancy as well as the first six months of the baby’s life.

‘I want to be there for my wife in the hardest times of the pregnancy and the beginning of our childs life to help her and me adjust to the life of a parent as well as bonding as a father’ which was also very much supported by most, though some thought it was stupid since income was needed with the expenses that came with having a child. Kenji however assured those that Red Rose, and him, had earned more than enough to live comfortably even with him not being active or as active as an actor for a little less than a year.

“So, you didn’t have the stomach flu back then?”, Mrs. Long had asked, amused as Red Rose had returned for the last recording session before the would go into maternity leave.

“Nope. Definitely not that”, y/n laughed as she carefully petted her now slightly, yet clearly rounded belly

Six months in, it was figured out they would be having a daughter. Kenji Kon and Red Rose however decided not to reveal the name until she was born.

“That’s bad luck where I’m from!”, Red had explained to her fans.

After that doctors visit Kenji had come home permanently for the time being. He had officially gone into “parenting vacations”, so to speak.

Y/n was happy he was going to be home for so long. She respected his work a lot and was fine with being alone for long periods of time, she had become tired of it real quick though as she advanced in her pregnancy with their daughter. Partly because moving around and about became more exhausting the more her belly grew, and she just felt she needed his support… but mostly because she was extremely hormonal. She missed him a lot more than usual…

It was a picturesque morning as y/n woke up by little kicks inside of her stomach.

‘She always does this’ she thought a little annoyed yet endeared. She loved feeling her daughter like that. It assured her again and again that she was alive and healthy.

“Good morning little one”, she whispered, knowing it was early and Kenji probably wasn’t awake yet, he was a long sleeper…

Kenji…. Kenji… thinking about him made her feel all giddy inside. She carefully turned around to face him (she found she was more faced away from him these days since she was very conscious of her belly not getting in the way of him being able to move around. He was a very active mover in his sleep, just like his unborn daughter).

He looked so peaceful as he gently breathed through his strong looking yet pointy nose. His hair looked perfect, as always. Only a couple of strands hung loosely from the top and low onto his forehand, which she honestly loved, because it made him look so… himself. He wasn’t all charming, not all dolled up and prepared to look perfect every second of the day. He was himself. Kenji and nobody else. Just like he was with her, but maybe even more relaxed. His lips were slightly open, though he wasn’t drooling this time. She had to hold back a giggle as she remembered several times where he woke up embarrassed and in denial.

“That’s just a humidity spot from the sweat we produce whilst sleeping” he had said with a childish pout and she had simply laughed.

She didn’t care, she loved him all the more for his faults even though he tried to deny them oftentimes.

Gosh… she loved him so much it almost hurt.

“Good morning, love”, Kenji heard his wife’s sweet voice as he slowly awoke.

“Good morning?”, he asked, his voice still a bit groggy. As he opened his eyes, his gaze immediately fell upon his wife.

She stood there, her blond hair shining y/h.c in late morning sunlight. Her pregnant form was in a comfortable looking, but still form hugging black dress, her lips were painted red and her eyes were framed in her iconic winged eyeliner.

She looked stunning.

Merit came forward slowly and put a tray that had some pancakes stacked on it, some orange juice and a cup of coffee on his lab.

“I woke up early and thought why not make you a nice bed-breakfast for my wonderful husband?”, she explained even though he didn’t ask, though he also couldn’t deny that he hadn’t wondered about that. He smiled in gratitude.

“Thank you, beautiful, I appreciate it”, he said, giving her a quick, but passionate kiss before digging in.

“I’ll go shopping-“, she started, but was immediately interrupted by a coughing Kenji, who in is hurry to stop her from going almost choked on the piece of pancake he had been chewing.

“No wait! I’ll go after breakfast. You’ve already been so kind to make this for me, you should really take it slow”

She giggled at that.

“I’m not that fragile darling. I’ve been shopping on my own last week when you were still at the shooting too.”

“All the more reason I should help you out now!”, he exclaimed. She swooned how adorable he was acting.

“Thank you darling”

“Anything for you”

“I’ll go sit in the garden for a bit then”, she said, trying to hide her blush. This had been one of these cheesy conversations that just made her head spin.

What a life.

(Warning: It’s getting a bit less Pg here, but I still wanted to keep this scene)

“WHY THE HECK DID I EVER ALLOW A D*CK TO ENTER ME!”, y/n screamed.

Labor was painful.

This was worse than anything she had ever felt.

It was the 16th of November 2028.

A week after what the doctors would predict was the birth, so pretty on time. Everything also seemed to go very well.

But still birthing was so painful.

She hated being alive right now.

She hated being a woman, which she honestly never had: Her periods were very kind to her, and she had never been disadvantaged in her life because of that… except right now.

And oh she LOATHED having been seduced by this mother*cker: Her husband.

That beautiful, charming man.

The devil himself in his holy form, impregnated her to make her suffer.

“I WILL NEVER HAVE SEX AGAIN I SWEAR”, she screamed.

One of the nurses couldn’t hold back a snicker and thought, and luckily could refrain from saying out loud ‘that’s what they all say. And in two years they’re back with a new baby’

And of course, the nurse was right. And of course, y/n knew deep down she’d forget the pain later and have sex three weeks later, if not earlier.

Though not right now. Oh no, right now she’ll scream and blame him for her pain whilst crushing his hand.

The doctors had explained Kenji beforehand that y/n will be quite distressed, so he had been mentally prepared to be cussed out.

Though wow did he feel bad right now. And not because of the fact he thought his fingers would break any second.

Twelve hours later it was finally done: Their daughter was born.

Their red headed flame of joy: Tove Kon.

And as expected: When y/n got to lay her eyes on her, she immediately forgot the pain, because whatever she had just gone through brought this little angel to earth. An angel she had made with the man she had loved for over twelve years.

And Kenji… oh Kenji fell in love with a second girl. This, he said to himself, is the second love of his life. He’d do anything for her. He’d be there as much as she could. He wouldn’t become like his father.

“Are you ok love?”, y/n asked him concerned as he was laying, next to her, caressing their daughters little head. At first, he was surprised at that question but then noticed tears running down his cheeks.

“I just… I love her so much, but I’m afraid I’ll become like my father and I don’t want to. I want to love her and give all I can of myself”

Y/N smiled brightly at that. This man truly was so full of devotion and kindness.

“You won’t become him. You couldn’t: Because you love us too much. And that kind of love can’t be broken. You are you, not him. And if you even so much as stray a centimeter away I’ll make sure you stay, ok? I’ll take care of us and I know you will too”

“Thank you. I love you”

“As I love you”

(I’m so sorry, this stuff is so cheesy xD But I hope you liked it anyways. I really wanted to share this with you, just because I know that I’m pretty much the only one who writes Kenji x reader stuff and I spent so much time on this.

Also: If you are interested in the unedited, less Pg version, lemme know. Also don’t worry: They are either both underage or both adults in these scenes, so nothing to worry about)

#kenji camp cretaceous #kenji #kenji kon #kenji x reader #kenji kon x reader #jw cc #jurassic world camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous fanfiction #self indulgent #self indulgent af

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writing-the-end · 3 years

Text

Chapter 32- Chaos in the Clouds

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

After a successful battle against more of Dolios’s dark forces, Ren, Tango, Impulse, and False take a much needed break to enjoy Edenswell, the city in the sky. Little do they know, their peace will soon be shattered by death.

____________________________________

The temple of Tyn was a haven of truth, the quiet whispers of candor mixing with the swift whisks of shuttles crossing the tapestries. Woven stories, facts and history written where no lie can ever be told. Finished panels hang from the wooden pillars, waving gently in the high winds of Edenswell. All is well, all is silent, truthful. Sincere.

Until Impulse goes crashing through the main hall, splinters of wood spraying across the worshippers and weavers. From the broken pillar, a thunderbird perches, empty lightning coursing through ashen wings. If it weren’t the patches of husked feathers falling off in clumps and the burning white eyes, it would look like it’s usual stormcloud color.

But the husk beast leaps down, talons scraping against the wood, it’s squawk as loud as thunder. Impulse shakes his head, shaking free from the dizzy spell and plucking a splinter as big as his finger from his hair. Through the dancing tapestries, the hermit can see False, Tango, and Ren stumble after the monster. He rises to his feet, offering a grin to a nearby priest. “I totally don’t have this under control.”

He didn’t mean to say that. But the words that were on the tip of his tongue came out as what he was thinking. Damn truth spells, his words have done little except make the pilgrims feel worse! Impulse offers a meek smile, and hops over the husked thunderbird, a well-timed explosion tossing him over the enormous bird’s head.

Ren’s hands cross, fingers symmetrical before snapping outwards, twisting and turning to summon his magic. “Let’s get this little birdy wrangled up, y’all.”

With a chuckle, Ren casts his magic. The circle tightens, trails weaving into a braided rope. Just as he imagined, a lasso appears in his hand. Beside him, False calls out orders. Like the general of an army. “Tango, Impulse, keep it distracted for Ren!”

“Hey Impy, think it’ll taste like chicken?” Tango laughs, fire blazing around him. He taps his heel against the cloud beneath his feet, and condensed water burns into steam, the floor falling away from the thunderbird. Together, the two keep the bird preoccupied, completely oblivious to the spinning rope of Ren’s lasso.

Of all the cities the hermits thought would be safe from Dolios and his dark magic, surely the city in the sky would be. But the reports of unrelenting storms and flocks of broken-winged birds led them straight to the crystal. Nestled in the heart of a hot spring spa, in the depths of the clouds and open to the sky, False and Ren managed to destroy the corrupted crystal. But not before this thunderbird discovered them, and attacked with the strength of a hurricane.

“I think he’s mad he didn’t do his job! Protect the crystal, kill any nosy townsfolk.” Impulse chuckles, snapping his fingers and blasting the flank of the bird. Ash of the husked form collapses, head rearing back and lightning crackling under the wings and feathers. Generated by the beat of the beast’s wings. But before it can release it’s thunderous caw, matched with the bolt of lightning, amber magic twists and wraps across the thunderbird’s beak.

“Got’em, boys! False?” Ren grins, digging his heels into the cloud vapor. HIs ears tuck against his head, fur meeting hair as he struggles to keep the eagle from escaping into the sky. What Ren wouldn’t give for a buff from Wels right now.

False doesn’t hesitate. She never does. She leaps onto the back of the bird, heels digging between feathers and flakes of the soulless, lifeless body, and raises her blade. The rippling metal turns bright red. As hot as freshly forged metal waiting to be doused in oil. Without wasting another second, she cuts the husk down.

The form beneath her feet crumbles like fall leaves, ash and embers picked up by the winds of the cloud city, with False left to collapse onto the ground. For a place built in the clouds, her ass feels anything but cushioned.

But she’s grinning all the same, accepting Tango’s hand to help her up and elbowing Ren in the stomach. “One less creepy beast in the world. And one more crystal in the books.”

“I’d say we earned ourselves some rest and relaxation. Edenswell does have some of the best spas and retreats in Lairyon.” False lets her sword clatter to the cloud, pulling a hand through her hair and the clumps of blood and dirt from her locks.

“I dunno about a spa, but I saw the Festival of Mimé is going on, and I wanna have some fun while we’re up here with our heads in the clouds.” Tango points out, which causes Impulse’s eyes to light up.

“The festival of Mimé? That’s the biggest fireworks showcase in the kingdom! They have a contest every year to see who can do the best exhibition, and I’ve always wanted to see it.” Impulse has already turned towards the sound of music and celebration, in honor of the god of joy.

“Why not just watch it if you can join it, my dude?” Ren points out, stretching aching muscles, hands over his head and pulling them taut. Both Tango and Impulse stop dead in their tracks, and False only groans from her spot on the ground.

“Ren, you mad genius. We’re going to blow that contest away. Literally.” Impulse’s toothy grin appears, matching his friend’s. False finally rises up, shaking her head.

“You guys are adults, you do what you want. Just...don’t burn down the damned city.” False waves them off, and goes in search of somewhere peaceful to rest and recuperate. She could use some healing as well. That thunderbird did a number in battle. Ren, Impulse, and Tango are left to their own devices.

A dangerous thing. The three clamber over one another to be the first at the entrance to Mimé’s temple. At the mouth of the open courtyard, color blossoms across the grass in flowers, flags, and festivities. Kids run past dragging kites and blowing pinwheels, while adults are celebrating with their own joyous creations. As soon as the hermits are through the archway, flower crowns have been set upon their head. Impulse even managed to find ones that wouldn’t catch fire upon Tango’s hot head. Music and dancing fills the open air, surrounded by brightly colored food and even brighter laughter and crafts.

Ren lets loose a low whisper. “Guess Mimé and Blumiere share one thing in common- creativity is joyous.”

“We’re going to wake the ancient ones with our joyous fireworks show.” Tango grins, searching for the contest. But he notices another pageant going on. “Hey, Ren, look. A pet agility course.”

Ren rolls his eyes, but his tail wags without his consent at the idea of running it. “I’m an imagination mage, not a dog. It was one mixup.”

“One mix up that left you with ears, a tail, and a joy to chase carts.” Impulse snickers. “Come on, RenDog, you’d be the most handsome dog in the whole pageant. And the fastest.”

“What’s the harm? It’s all good fun, Mimé would want that. I dare you.” Tango’s words are all that Ren needs to hear, and the mage plods off to join the pet parade.

Tango and Impulse waste no time getting to work. A hellbound mage and an explosions wizard, teaming up to make the best fireworks ever seen by the entire kingdom.Mixing together all colors, all patterns, daring to go bigger and better than any other contestant, it’s Tango’s wild ideas and Impulse’s refined magic that allows them to slowly tune towards perfection.

But not without a few mistakes along the way. Their first attempt at a spectacular sight turned into a show fit for ants, not for gods. And there aren’t even ants in Edenswell- it’s a city in the clouds, for Stratis’s sake.

The next mistake was loud enough that even False heard it from the hero’s spring baths that healed her wounds. She peeked one eye open, seeing yellow and red blossoming in the open roof of the Hero's baths. She only sinks lower into the azure waters, shaking her head. They’re adults, she doesn’t always need to run in and be the S-Class mage. She’s going to enjoy this rest, dammit.

After trial and error, error and trial, night falls on Edenswell and the fireworks shows begin. Sound mages ease the explosions to sensitive ears, allowing music to swell with the colors that blossom in the sky. Sincere shows, wishes in the sky, and large extravaganzas dazzle the crowd and illuminate the air in place of the sun.

Tango and Impulse are last to show, and with each entry before them, they get more excited. Tango just wants to snap his fingers and light it up now, so everyone can see all the hard work they did. Ren disappeared hours ago, and they’ve only caught glimpses of his brown ears or colorful outfit since then. But at least False arrives just in time for the show. “Where’d you lose Ren?”

The two shrug, noticing that her wounds from this morning’s battles have already faded to scars and False looks more refreshed, ready to battle than ever. Whoever duels her next better watch out. “He joined the pet party or whatever. Seems like he was having a good time last we saw.”

Tango laughs at Impulse’s words, still in disbelief their friend actually crashed a pet show. But that’s Ren for them, wild and innovative, and never backing down from a dare. “You ready to see the biggest, best, most awesome and perfect fireworks-ification you’ve ever had the honor to lay eyes on?”

“I’m ready to see whatever it is you two have created.” False steps back, materializing a large shield, the blade pointed out and disk protecting her chest. “From a protected and safe distance away. I’m not making another cannon mistake.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Tango grins, and snaps his fingers. Fire erupts at the base, dancing along an intricate, twisting sequence that False can only compare to Mumbo’s redstone lines. Fireworks blast off into the sky, dancing in spinning circles and straight lines, set off at the perfect time that when they explode, they paint the dark night with colors that twist and dance, intricate patterns flowing in seamless design. Music swells with the dazzling paint, the musicians inspired by the incredible sight before them. False is mesmerized, feeling the purples and blues and greens and whites light up on her face, the joy of watching such a show reminding her what it means to be a hermit. To see her friends create, to see the beauty of unrestrained magic.

The finale blows the sky open with every color of the rainbow and then some, illuminating the entire city, but even under the crescending music False hears Tango and Impulse curse at the same time. The colors fade into streaks of light, embers falling to the city like a meteor shower. False shakes her head, realizing at some point in the show she put her shield down. She was too enamored by the fireworks. “Okay, I’ll admit- that was fantastic.”

“But it wasn’t perfect.” Tango grumbles. “We messed up the pattern in the grand finale.”

Ren bowls into the three, tail wagging and eyes alight. “Dudes, I could tell that was your fireworks, that was the coolest thing ever! Mimé must be stoked, he probably hasn’t seen something that epic since the ancients!”

“No, it really wasn’t.” Impulse kicks the ground. “We fucked up the end, it’s not what we imagined.”

There’s a loud thwap, sparks flying from Tango’s head while Impulse hisses, rubbing the crown of his brown hair. “That was the most incredible fireworks show i ever saw. You two are gifted with explosions- that I already know- and that was badass. Even if it wasn’t what you imagined, I thought it was beautiful. Because it was you two’s work, your heart and soul, even your mistake was a part of you guys.”

“False is spitting truth, bros.” Ren adds, nodding his head. “That was so cool, you guys made your idea come to life! Wasn’t it fun making it?”

Tango and Impulse pause, looking at the sizzling remains of their fireworks. The ash stained grass, a few chunks missing from the cloudcover. And they laugh. “It definitely was a blast.” Impulse croons. “I hope Mimé thought that was as cool as it was to make.”

“I definitely think it was a joy to watch.” False hums. She rolls her shoulders, eyes roving across the festival. People’s eyes sparkle, conversations and fingers pointed towards the sky. “And I think others feel the same way. Congrats, hermits. No only did we save the day, you guys made it a little bit brighter here as well.”

“And I won best in show!” Ren chuckles, showing off his medal. The others laugh, and he tucks it away. “None of you guys tell the others about this.”

“No, we’re telling everyone.” False snorts.

#next chapter yinz better have tissues #ao3 version gonna be updated in tags because shits going down #light of lairyon #lol #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #wizard au #wizard hermits #wizard false #wizard ren #wizard impulse #wizard tango #falsesymmetry #rendog #impulsesv #tangotek

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bisexualcrowley · 4 years

Text

Stole the Show (Pt 1)

Next Chapter

Pairing: Dominic “Sonny” Carisi x Fem! Reader

Chapter summary: In hopes of catching a high profile rapist, Y/n goes undercover in a Broadway production of one of her favorite musicals, helped along by her close friend and love of her life, detective Carisi

Content/warnings: This chapter is more of an introduction to the story, but there’s definitely some fluff with Sonny in here

Word count: 1,895

Y/n Y/l/n was not a coward. She fought through abuse, homelessness, abduction and the day to day stressors of being an SVU detective, each struggle forcing her out the other side stronger than before, using music as a crutch, so it was no surprise to Sonny Carisi that she fought for the chance to go undercover performing on broadway, in a sequel to her favorite musical no less.

The case was nothing too out of the ordinary for the squad, simply a rapist drugging performers and assaulting them backstage, but the suspect being somewhat high profile made it so being caught in the act by a cop would be the best way to ensure conviction, a fact that Y/n was quick to convince the squad of. She sat quietly that morning, mentally going over her proposition and knee bouncing as the soundtrack to Mamma Mia 2 played softly through an earbud tucked discreetly behind her hair.

"Hey Liv, you said that one of the girls who was attacked quit the production, right?” Y/n called to the Sergeant as she walked in the door, turning in her desk chair to face her superior.

"Good Morning to you too, Y/n, but yes she did quit, I don’t blame her in the slightest but i admit it's pretty unfortunate for the crew, the play opens in a week and she was a main character" Liv smiled politely at the detective as she spoke, a little shocked by the eagerness to jump straight into work on a saturday morning but questioning it, instead choosing to hang her coat on the rack outside her office and pick up the case file in question.

Y/n took a breath, hesitating slightly before offering up her idea.

"Well, what if I took her place? I've done a fair share of undercover work, and I used to do musical theatre when I was in school. Plus, it's the role of Donna that they lost, right? I can make myself look kinda like her, at least enough that they’d take me on to help with the case" Y/n looked nervously at her hands, fearing the probable rejection, but before Liv could reply Sonny cut in, walking over to Y/n's desk and plopping himself down on the corner.

"Ya know Sarge, that's not a half bad idea, we could get up close and personal with the cast, and it’ll be way easier to keep the girls safe and get some physical evidence against the guy. Plus, I've heard talk that Y/l/n's a damn talented singer."

Y/n grinned up at Sonny, thanking her friend for the compliment while silently praying that she'd at the very least get the chance to talk to the director about it.

"Well if you're sure you're up for it, I could definitely make a couple calls. I’ll warn you not to get your hopes up, seeing as this is a broadway production and they might have an understudy already, but I absolutely agree we should have someone undercover with the girls.”

Olivia replied, turning to her office to go make the call.

15 minutes passed, leaving Y/n waiting in anxious silence for the verdict and a supportive Amanda and Sonny hovering by her desk. It had been almost half an hour when Liv emerged from the office, and Y/n stood up with hopeful eyes turned to the Sergeant, who's face broke into a smile.

"Good news Y/l/n, it turns out you earned yourself quite a reputation within the musical theatre community, and she says if you can be ready for opening night next week without letting the fact that you’re a cop slip, you’re in!"

Y/n beamed at Olivia, thank you's spilling from her lips as Amanda cheered and Sonny clapped her on the back.

This is gonna be so good for her, he thought to himself with a smile, transfixed by his friend’s joyful smile.

“We should head down to the theatre as soon as possible to work out the details with her, if i’m gonna be wearing a wire, what happens if and when we catch him, that type of stuff” Y/n said, a quickly adopted professional appearance masking her excitement. The performance isn’t the focus here y/n, this is only happening because the women in the musical are in danger and this is the best way to keep them safe. She thought to herself while sliding out of her chair and grabbing her phone, following Sonny, who had oh so graciously offered to accompany her to the theatre, towards the front of the building. Of course, my performance is important too, can’t risk messing up and blowing my cover in rehearsal or, god forbid, screwing up in the middle of the performance. Jeez, the NYPD would never be trusted to work alongside a Broadway show again.

Y/n shook the final thought from her mind and shot her friend a smile as they climbed into a squad car, driving the short distance from the precinct to what somewhat coincidentally, was named Broadway Theatre. Parking in an open spot along the curb, Sonny climbed out of the car and upon rounding the car and stepping up onto the sidewalk was met with a starry eyed Y/n, who was staring up at the bright blue sign advertising Mamma Mia: Here we go again, opening in 7 days, starring Y/n Y/l/n.

Sonny stared up at the sign in both shock and pride, firstly feeling more than impressed at how fast the crew had managed to get his partner’s name into the adverts, and secondly thrilled at the look of awe plastered across her face, the lights surrounding the poster reflecting beautifully in her eyes.

“Congrats kid, looks like you made it! Don’t forget about all us little people once you’ve become one of those big broadway actresses”

He clapped her on the shoulder as he spoke, Y/n giggling at the detective’s joke, but couldn’t drown out the little voice at the back of her head wishing that his words would come true.

Turning her attention back to the entrance, Y/n shot a playful “shut up” towards Sonny and made her way to the doors, leaving her grinning friend jogging to catch the door before it shut in his face.

The hours flew by as Y/n was walked through everything that would be happening over the next few weeks. First she and Sonny were introduced to the director, the three of them working out the best course of action pertaining to the suspected rapist, the group deciding after a lengthy debate that if they didn’t make an arrest before opening night, Y/n would come up with a discreet signal between herself and the SVU detectives who would be in the audience and backstage that would let them know who to arrest and when during the performance.

Next, Sonny was left behind in an office while Y/n was brought to the main stage and rehearsal area, where she was introduced to the rest of the cast who welcomed her with open arms, immediately jumping in to run lines and teach y/n the choreography for the musical. By the time everyone called it quits for the day, the sun had begun to set and Y/n was absolutely beat, her cheerful mood quickly beginning to sour now that she had stopped singing.

Tucking her script into her bag, Y/n took heavy steps up to the exit, groaning as she realized she’d have to take the subway back to her apartment. The thought of having to sit on a loud, crowded train while this exhausted drew a sigh to her lips, trudging outside and fixing her hair before turning towards the nearest station, expecting to find a quieting street but being pleasantly surprised by the sight of her partner and best friend leaning up against a streetlamp and holding a paper bag from her favorite bakery, bringing a relieved smile to her face.

“Sonny Carisi you are a sight for sore eyes. What are you even doing here, it’s been hours!” Y/n called as she approached the man, who righted himself and wandered towards her with a smile on his face at the sound.

“Couldn’t just leave ya here after a long day doll, I'm here bearin’ snacks and a ride home” Sonny chuckled as she smiled gratefully and threw her arms around his shoulders in a quick hug, pulling away to take the bag from his hand.

“It’s cannoli, not as good as my mom’s but i hope it’ll do for tonight. Now c’mon, let’s get you home”

Y/n beamed and thanked her friend, who smiled back and gestured a little further down the street to where what y/n assumed was Sonny’s car was parked and she followed him to it, thanking him again but this time throwing in a sleepy mumble of “shotgun” before sliding into the passenger seat, which caused Sonny to let out a snort of laughter as he joined her in the car.

It wasn’t long before the rumble of the engine lulled Y/n into a deep sleep, head rolling to the side to rest against the car’s window. Sonny smiled softly at her sleeping form, careful to avoid the potholes in the road. It took him nearly ten minutes driving towards his own home to realize that despite their years of friendship, Sonny had never actually been to Y/n’s apartment, and couldn’t remember her ever mentioning an address

Stopping at a red light, the detective reached over to the right side of the car, gently nudging y/n’s sleeping form. She didn’t awaken right away, needing a few more nudges from Carisi’s side of the car, but eventually sleepy eyes fluttered open, staring groggily at her friend.

“Sorry doll, but i don’t know where you live, you gotta gimme your address” Sonny whispered, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen in front of y/n’s face away.

“too tired, dunno.. can’t r’member” She mumbled, head falling back against the window as the light turned green and Sonny drove forward. The car was silent again, Y/n too exhausted to speak and Sonny debating what he should do.

“...D’ya just wanna crash at my place tonight?” He was hesitant to ask, worried that Y/n would think he was taking advantage of her, but to his relief she gave a slow nod, a smile creeping across her face before passing out again.

Sonny smiled too, and the rest of the drive was quiet, him pulling into a back parking lot a few minutes later and unclipping his seatbelt. A look over at Y/n, fast asleep and softly snoring in the passenger seat brought a smile to his face, and quietly he got out of the car and moved around to her side, carefully scooping his friend into his arms bridal style and locking the car.

The smile didn’t leave Sonny’s face the whole trip across the lost, up the elevator, and into his apartment, where he gently laid Y/n’s sleeping form across his couch and draped a warm blanket over her. She looked peaceful as she slept, the layers of stress usually hardening her face having vanished, and it warmed Sonny’s heart. Pulling another blanket over her, Sonny crouched down to press a soft kiss to Y/n’s forehead, and with a whisper of “sweet dreams, doll”, he clicked off the light and left her to sleep.

#sonny carisi x reader #svu fluff #svu x reader #svu imagine #law and order svu #law and order: special victims unit #sonny carisi series #svu fanfic #sonny carsi imagine #sonny carisi #stole the show series

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leggomylino · 4 years

Text

S&M Act I, Scene I | Windstorm ༄

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

Genre: Adventure, Drama, Comedy, Fluff, Angst

Pairing(s): Lee Minho x fem!reader x Kim Seungmin

Au: Wizard of Oz au

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warning(s): Minorly to moderately dark themes of suppression, depression, panic, and insanity. Mentioning of blood, dark magic, violence, and (censored) language.

A/n: I’m so happy this story is finally coming to light! <3 Thank you to everyone behind the scenes who has supported me on the creation of this series, and to anyone who has ever supported my writing ever. ^^ I hope you enjoy!!! | Inspired by the events of Dorothy Must Die, by Danielle Paige.

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17 @distrikt9 @hanstagrams @hyunsunq @smolboiseavey @jisungsjheekies @iluvlix @moonlit-han @stay-nctzen @yangomangos @stayndays @cotccotc @skzctnightnight @multi-stan-present @dreamy-dreamies @yunhoesss (Please let me know if you’d like to be added! Comment, ask, or DM me!!!)

ღ S&M M.List | Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

The dreams had been plaguing you for a while now.

“Y/n,” a boy’s voice spoke. “Y/n, always remember, and never forget. You must forgive, and never forget.”

“Remember what?” You’d cry out into the empty space. “Always remember what? What is it I’ve forgotten? Who is it I’m supposed to forgive?”

Alas, the empty space never told you anything. It was just a soft chuckle, the feeling of eyes lovingly watching you from somewhere far away, cloying and envious, and then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

~ ♕ ~

The rain pelting against your bedroom window that night had been harsh. You listened to the uproarious melody, now awake, lying in a pool of your own sweat, heart racing, wondering where you had come to and where you’d just been. It was always this way, taking time to cool down from such a feverishly swift and spiraling dream; although you were theoretically standing still in a vacant space, you felt the effects of falling as you arose.

The rain calmed you. Despite its intensity it was the one thing that gave you peace, something mentally stabilizing to cling onto and give full focus to as the echoes of a dream deferred vanished into the far recesses of your mind, where they’d be all but forgotten until the next evening. You didn’t know what you’d do when the stormy season was over-- it had already been unusual to have such a large mass of wacky weather one after the other this time of year-- and sure a ferrying rain shower or two was normal-- but you’d grown accustomed to running to the storm’s ferocity for guidance, a child’s blanket, a figurative teddy bear that you could squeeze against your thoughts when escaping the dream realm. The heavy downpour washed all of your fears and anxiety away. What would you do when it was all over, and Fall returned?

It had been so odd; with all the rain and fluctuating humidity, the flowers and Spring-Summer crops were in full bloom. You’d never experienced seasonal allergies in the Fall until now. Neither had your best friend, Hyunjin, and...speaking of…

You hadn’t realized it was morning until Hyunjin came bursting into your room with one of your uncle’s chickens in his arm. It was still raining, hard, the droplets sounding like tiny fists pounding to come inside. Doubtful to let up anytime soon. “Y/n! Are you still auditioning for the role of Sleeping Beauty up here? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Mia Harper’s got it covered, and Aunt Em’s gonna slide me your stack of pancakes in the next ten minutes if you don’t get your share of the chores done.”

A yawn escaped you. Hyunjin and his sidekick Kkami had been coming over to assist in your busy-hermit lifestyle ever since you could remember. He was your neighbor, after all, but...more on that later. The moment Hyunjin’s words soared beneath the backlash of bad weather, you’d completely forgotten what it was you’d just been thinking about, before the rain, what it was you’d dreamed. (Ever ironic how the dream had instructed you to remember, and yet, here you were, doomed to forget.) “Yeah, okay…” You yawned, stretching and easing yourself into the usual morning (sometimes afternoon) routine. You glanced at the chicken in his arms, and his subtle goofy smile in the doorway. “Is this your way of saying you’d rather have Pluckers as your lab partner instead of me?”

He shifted his eyes thoughtfully to Pluckers, watching him twitch and litter feathers like drops of rain before giving you his answer. “...I mean, that’s not a bad idea, actually. Have you even started your half of the worksheet yet?”

Ugh. Always about school. You wanted to tell him yes, but in all honesty you’d been spending your free time and late nights with your nose lodged between Harry Potter pages or your eyes plugged and gasping over YouTube storytimes. So you clamped your mouth shut.

And now, the backstory: Hyunjin had been your best friend for years. The two of you grew up next door to each other, which for country living was pretty dang far; having someone as your neighbor here was the same thing as having them live down the block. You’d never known your parents; you were adopted at a young age by your Aunt Em and Uncle Henry, who weren’t biologically related to you in any sense and just as good as any biological pair of adults. The details surrounding your DNA relatives-- and the year you’d come to live here-- were all unknown to you. The only story you’d ever gotten out of Aunt Em was that they’d had you from “knee-high” and that you couldn’t remember because of a nasty fall from one of Uncle Henry’s apple trees; Uncle Henry himself refused to speak of the subject at all, either pretending he needed hearing aids or choosing to run into the next room.

Hyunjin was your only friend in school. You’d never been very good in the communication department; growing up in a small town made your comfort zone the same. But not Hyunjin. He was popular and kind and got along with everyone. He had a gift for catching people’s eyes: every boy envied him, every girl drooled over him, and all your teachers and professors fawned and smiled and patted him on the back, even when he’d blurted out the “dog ate my homework” excuse in eighth grade and you proudly stood up and announced that he didn’t have a dog, disregarding Kkami, just for the amusement of finally seeing him choke and get scolded for once in his life. Instead you found yourself pouting with the Cone of Shame in silence while Hyunjin outrageously was given a star on the Good Noodle chart. It’d been the one moment to ruin your friendship for the remainder of class...until he gave you his Free Ice Cream ticket for PeachyKeen’s ice cream parlor downtown. Then, you were okay.

Even now, in your town’s small local college, he was applauded by all. The only person you’d ever seen frown his way was Uncle Henry, who often argued that a boy of his age shouldn’t be barging into a young lady’s room anymore. But Aunt Em always shrugged him off, quoting her famous “times change” saying and shoved a slice of pie before him, and he was back to watching TV.

A flash of lighting lit up the dim clouded sky, followed by the roar of thunder, and with a panicked squawk Pluckers shot out of Hyunjin’s arms, leaving a trail of feathers to follow down the hall. With a nervous look the two of you exchanged a nod before Hyun gave chase, closing the door behind him, and you got right to work getting ready for the day. It was Saturday, meaning no school, however there was still plenty of farmwork to do and the crops in the field weren’t going to protect themselves. Not from yesterday’s shower, and not from today’s.

You hustled downstairs with toothbrush hanging from your lips, dawned in your favorite plaid skirt and lime-green raincoat, the one with the little frog face over the left breast. Ruffling Kkami awake, Hyunjin’s “beloved baby,” you tossed her a treat from the clay jar you and Hyunjin had made together for her in sixth grade art, spinning and spitting in the kitchen sink.

Aunt Em gave you a nervous look as you tossed the brush in the dishwasher and started aggressively inhaling cinnamon apple pancakes like a beloved Nintendo character. “...And how is my favorite girl this afternoon?” She asked. Her whimsical tone made your neck blush.

“Sorry, I stayed up late studying again.”

“Studying the wizarding world of Hogwarts, you mean?”

“...Perhaps?”

You smiled apple bits and maple syrup, and she laughed, waving a dish towel at you and squinting the other way. “Keep your mouth closed until you're done. Didn’t I teach you better manners than that?”

“I dunno, did you?”

Her eyes bore into yours in warning and you laughed harder, nearly choking on the last bite of spiced apple goodness. Aunt Em sighed, shaking her head while wiping her hands clean. “I suppose I walked right into that one.” She nodded toward the side door, leading to the barn. “Hurry before the storm picks up. It’s gonna be another bad one, they say, so if the wind picks up anymore or it starts hailing or God forbid you see a giant funnel in the sky, I want the two of you right back inside, you hear?”

“Funnel cake?!” Uncle Henry called. He was glued to his usual pleather chair when he wasn’t out tending to the garden or the farm animals or fixing a leaky faucet. He was also in need of a hearing aid; working eight hours a day around screeching metals and brazen farm animals had left his eardrums in shambles. Aunt Em rolled her eyes, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Not cake, I’m talking about the weather!”

“It’s raining cake?!?”

She groaned, earning a chuckle from the two of you. It was cut short when Hyunjin came stumbling past, spitting out feathers and just in arms reach of a couple hens, Pluckers in the lead, signaling that brunch was over. “Thanks for the meal!” you said, shoving the plate forward.

“Be careful!” Em’s voice bridged across the living room. “You two look out for one another! And hurry!”

“We will!” You shouted back. The sound of the door clicking shut was barely audible beneath the heavy thunks of raindrops slamming against the tin roof as the two (five?) of you ventured out into the stormy play.

You wished then you would have taken just the sliver of a moment to look back.

~ ♕ ~

You’d never seen a flourishing of colors much like the one taking place outside. Turnips turning upwards, tulips banging heads, carrots and corn stalks exchanging blows before ending up on opposite sides of the field. Sunflowers having the sun beat out of them. It was something out of the rising action of a thriller movie. You’d seen similar scenes in nearly half the Harry Potter movies; the only thing missing were wizards and wands and perhaps a giant dragon.

“You round up Maribelle!” Hyunjin yelled over the storm. His arms were spread wide as he squinted and squatted through the blinding rain, ushering the rest of the chickens and hens inside the barn. “I’ll get the horses next!”

Nodding you ran through sloshing mud puddles and drowning fields of grain towards the feeding pasture, where dear old Maribelle the could be found, often grazing on weeds or spreading out for an afternoon sunbath. The lone cow of SunnySkies pastures for fifteen years, and the first to join the farm. Instead you found her darting bug eyes around wildly, her knobby limbs quivering beneath a willow tree that provided little protection, the willows only adding to the streams of precipitation pouring over her stiff brown fur. She gave you a frantic moo and bobbed her head in relief to see you.

“There, there,” you soothed, whipping the grass and water from her eyes. “Quickly now, let’s get you into the barn before this picks up anymore.”

She moo-ed again, lower this time, giving you an argueless agreement.

You sledged hard against the rising winds, the blades of greenery that cut surprisingly sharp like razor blades, leaving a small mark upon your cheek. You winced, annoyed at the slight sting, the small drops of crimson that came up against your fingertips only to be washed away just as quickly. It began to rain harder, faster, the wind practically howling in your ears. The faint sounds of a freight train or some sort of heavy machinery filled the distance.

“Let’s hurry, now,” you encouraged your steed, pulling her along beside you. She was reluctant to move, frightened by the spiraling commotion around her. It didn’t help when something snapped beneath your feet, a twig, maybe, or some glass. As if on cue the willow tree came crashing down with a thud.

You braced yourself, sucking in a sharp breath; you needed to get inside; but Maribelle had other plans. Startled, she ran a wayward direction, disappearing in the fog that was beginning to settle over the pasture. “Mari--!” you began to call, taking two steps forward-- ‘til the cries of another all but took your breath away, making you forget about Maribelle, making you forget about everything.

You stood, jaw slacked, slit-eyed, watching Hyunjin blow away. He wiggled in the fierce storm breeze like a flag pitched on the roof. “Y/N!!!” He screamed, clinging to the roof’s edge for dear life. “Y/N, GET INSIDE!!! CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!!”

“HYUNJIN!” You bleated back. “HYUNJIN, HANG ON!!! I’M COMING!!!”

“NO, IT’S TOO DANGEROUS, GO-- AHHH!” He shrieked and ducked his head beneath a flying branch. “...GO INSIDE!!! CALL THE PRESIDENT!!!”

“I’m not calling the President,” you huffed, fighting your way across sideways weather and flyaway hairs to latch yourself onto the barn ladder. Of all the times to crack jokes, only Hyunjin would choose a raging level eight storm. “Hang on I’m coming…!”

...Your voice trailed off as your head listed aside, something bouncing in the corner of your eye. There, rounding the side of the barnhouse, was Kkami, frolicking like a happy-go-lucky lamb to Hyunjin’s side.

“Arf! Rwarf!”

“KKAMI?!?”

Your blood went cold. If Hyunjin caught wind of Kkami, it was all over. “Kkami!” you hissed, or at least tried to over the roaring ninety-miles-per-hour winds. “Go back inside! Go! Shoo!”

“IS THAT MY BABY DOWN THERE?!?!”

Oi. “N-NO, IT ISN’T! JUST A BRANCH!!!”

Ushering Kkami with a branch at least beneath the safety of the barn roof, you hustled back to the side of the building. The rain made it slick and hard to hold onto, but you scaled the side of the barnhouse as fast as possible, avoiding loose vegetation and swatting at leaves and smaller branches and once a lemon wedge that the storm must have torn in two somehow, crawling up loose shingles and various askew obstacles and then...then…

This was the hardest part to remember, a part you wish you didn’t have to remember. Face wet, hair whipping in the tempest breeze, you reached for Hyun’s hand, kneeling, pleading, focusing thoughts on hot cocoa and warm lemon pie inside, an Aunt Em specialty. The reality you were so certain in. A reality that would never come.

“Gotcha...!”

Your hands met, fingers touched, smiles of relief shared. But it only lasted a moment before the rainstorm ripped him away, your cries drowning in the funnel that appeared in the sky...or at least that’s how you wished to remember it: in reality there was a soft, whimpering arf!, followed by your best friend’s gasp as he relinquished your grasp to adhere himself to the skies after Kkami, now paddling against the storm’s current, cries of “My baby!” and anguished “AAAAH”s lost on the wind.

And you could only watch him go, just seeing him manage to latch onto his beloved pet of nine-odd years before disappearing from sight, sucked into the giant magnetizing center of it all you’d completely failed to notice, the last thing from his lips a cry to your name. It’d appeared out of nowhere, substantial and vigorous. Pulling into the station, the train had arrived, uprooting and tearing apart everything in its path. A giant, swirling cloud of gray and gravel and doom.

Oddly enough, in that paralyzing moment, something clicked in the back of your mind: a cursory afterthought at the eye of the storm.

“Always remember, and never forget. You must forgive, and never forget.”

You stared into the eye harder.

“Come home, Y/n. Come home.”

“Y/N!!!” Aunt Em’s frantic voice screeched below. “Y/N, HYUNJIN!!! Y/N?!?”

You couldn’t look. Couldn’t move. Horror froze you to the barn, eyes locked on the exact spot you last saw Hyunjin disappear, the trance calling you deeper and deeper into a strange petrifying submission, until the tornado whorled to your doorstep and swept you away; the pasture, the barn, your home. Everything.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

ღ S&M M.List | Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

Smoke & Mirrors. Copyright © 2020 - 2021 poeticallyspaghetti.tumblr.com. Unauthorized use or reproduction of works is expressly prohibited. Do not repost, plagiarize, claim as your own, or translate my works. Thank you. <3

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jacksgreysays · 3 years

Note

Author's Cut Questions 3, 4, & 14 for Hail to the Queen Uzushio remix or Family by Mother Mother for (They Call It) Soulless?

3 - What's your favorite line of narration? 4 - What's your favorite line of dialogue? 14 - Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Hail to the Queen, Uzushio remix

Favorite dialogue is definitely Kankurou's response to Shikako's question on what he's going to do after he's handed off responsibility of the Sand intel nin:

"Whatever I want? There's sand and there's sun. So it's kind of like home, except no one is bugging me to do anything."

I think mostly its because I just love writing Kankurou so much! He's got this... wry irrelevance, almost, that is sort of but not really earned? Maybe its because I hang out with/am a theater person but they're really kind of just Like That and it's great. It's such an incongruous personality in a world filled with superpowered ninja. Like. A lot of time, I write Shikako as irrelevant because in the situations I put her in, she just is that powerful despite constantly getting underestimated, so she really can do whatever she wants.

Kankurou does not have that kind of power to back up his sass. But he still does it anyway? It probably has to do with growing up with Gaara pre-heel-face turn so now his fear response is busted as shit and only registers active, massive threats. But even then, he'll probably still complain about it. What a nerd. He's great.

Favorite narration... hm... maybe:

Shikako does not nod at this. This is a bonkers way to choose a leader. Then again, Uzushio is weird enough that this might not actually be a joke.

And that's mostly because it connects to the question, if I wanted readers to learn anything from this fic, which is primarily that I have so many Uzushio feels. So many. But a lot of them are contradictory almost, so this fic was a great way to explore various options of how Uzushio would choose an Uzukage (if they even have a "kage" at all).

I know Uzushio, even the one that I headcanon, wasn't a perfect utopia. What little scraps of canon we do have about it make that impossible. Uzumaki were known for their longevity, "special chakra," and their ability to make chakra weapons. Some enterprising individual managed to make a mask that could summon the god of death. They're known for being sealing masters including but not limited to capturing and imprisoning sentient giant chakra monsters.

The role of Kage in other nations is passed along via power. For some its bloodlines, others its a series of usurpations. Konoha has the arguably least problematic of the bunch being a non-explicit teacher-student almost bloodline thing (3 out of 5 were Senju and none were Uchiha) chosen either by the preceding Hokage or by a small council of elders. Least problematic isn't really saying much.

Largely, I just like to think of Uzushio through different lenses. It could be a society entirely of scholars with a truly wild scope of subjects available (I didn't put it in the fic, but Tatsuma is the head of the elemental manipulation department). Or a voyaging society that just upped and left. Or a conglomeration of clans with weird bloodlines that were only held in check by the Uzumaki clan's general effectiveness.

I once considered running an RPG borrowing loosely from Dusk City Outlaws. It would've been called Dusk of Uzushio and followed shinobi in the last few months before whatever destroyed them. In that, Uzushio was largely insular. Their greatest international ally wasn't Konoha but Tea Country because most of their contracts came from them to bodyguard/escort merchant vessels and/or sabotage enemy merchant vessels. I mean, yes, they were still allied with Konoha and amongst the shinobi villages they were closest, but the Uzushio in that was largely like: the continent sucks, Mist is a self-cannibalizing mess, Tea Country is full of criminals but they're organized and pay well.

Even then none of those societies would necessarily want power to be the main criteria of choosing a leader. It's intelligence or diplomacy or shrewdness or actual leadership. I dunno. It's a bit of a muddle. Just, all of my messy Uzushio feels.

---

Family by Mother Mother for (They Call It) Soulless

There's not much dialogue in this one, so I guess by default my favorite line is:

"Together... My parents will be together. If not here, then elsewhere"

Mostly because it's almost literally the premise of Pre!Kako (which is the basis of (They Call It) Soulless) if you think about it in a not just romantic but also devoted sort of way and thus all the more tragic for it. Shikaku and Yoshino got together in spite of the Nara clan's protest. They stayed together even when their baby was screaming her head off and the Kinokawas wanted her to go to Danzo. They made a life for each other and prioritized their little family's happiness above all else and that's beautiful.

So to split them in death would not only be sad, but cruel. Actively vicious and malicious and almost violent.

And so Kako deciding to keep their priorities--even though, probably, that Nara uncle might have offered some kind of deal where the Nara would help with the Kinokawa siblings' living expenses if she signed away Shikaku's remains to be with the clan without Yoshino--is definitely not the most practical decision, but it is the best way to honor their memory. And that's all Kamaru will have of them. T_T

My favorite line of narration is probably:

[[Genma is a mess after the Kyuubi.]]

Many are, unsurprisingly. Loss abounds.

Mostly because I know I have a problem with run on sentences and grammar/punctuation. I find a lot of my writing is verbal almost--maybe not all that surprising considering my main contribution to the DoS fandom and, I guess, my previously mentioned sort of experience with theater--even though I'm not that good at dialogue

I talk out loud when I write and if it doesn't sound right, then I'll readjust it until it makes sense when I speak. And then I sprinkle in punctuation kind of however I please. Not often in the correct place. So I end up with run on sentences mixed with fragments and no real proper sentences.

Anyways, the reason why I like this particular line of narration is because it would be metal AF to have a line like this in a play. Five words. Two sentences. Punch in the face. THERE HAS BEEN A TRAGEDY AND EVERYONE IS AFFECTED. It's the kind of line in a play that would have a beat of silence after to let it sit before the next line stumbles away quickly as if to distance itself from the impact.

Loss abounds. So clean! So concise! I will never be able to replicate this!

Also, its a fun sort of paradox. An abundance of loss. There is too much absence! Like saying "I'm very good at fucking up." There's probably a literary term for this but I have no idea ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hm... I don't know if there was anything in particular I wanted readers to learn from this...

A/N: Thanks for the ask, anon! It was fun to look back at those ficlets and writhe around in my Uzushio feels. :)

Ask Box Advent Calendar 2020

#jacksgreyson #anonymous #ask box advent calendar #ask box author's cut #prompt response #fanfiction #dreaming of sunshine #naruto #Sabaku no Kankurou #shikako nara #uzushio #hail to the queen #(they call it) soulless

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holidaywishes · 3 years

Text

today, tomorrow and the rest of our lives

part nine: today, tomorrow and the rest of our lives

Summary: It’s New Year’s Eve in New York City, which means it’s finally time for you and Freddie to get married

Warning: just some fluff

Author’s Note: I feel like this chapter is either going to be really long or really short and to the point. So, let’s take that journey together! Since this is the wedding chapter, (finally, I feel like I’ve been trying to write this chapter for wayyy too long,) I think the chapter might end up only being 10 chapters. Of course, my mood might change and it might end up being 13 chapters anyway. We’ll see! Hope you enjoy this little chapter and keep coming back for more 😜

masterlist

the other masterlist

“I’M GETTING MARRIED!” You screamed as you woke up on New Year’s Eve, “I’M GETTING MARRIED TODAY!!!!”

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED TODAY!!” Lauren repeated as you ran down the hallway

“OH MY GOD!” You exclaimed

“OKAY OKAY RELAX,” she laughed, “take a breath, calm down. Eat something..”

“Eat something? No. I can’t eat anything, I’m too excited. There’s too much to do. I’m getting MARR--” she put her finger on your lips to stop you from repeating yourself, laughing at your excitement as she did so

“I know! Yes, we’ve established what today is but you need to eat before things start happening okay?”

“Where is Freddie?”

“He slept at Mitch’s last night remember?”

“Right. Can I call him?”

“Sure.. I don’t see why not” Lauren shrugged and you ran to grab your phone, stopping suddenly when there was a knock on the door

“Who’s that?” you asked

“I dunno...” she scoffed, walking toward the door while you stared out the hotel room window

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!!” Amalie and Stephanie said when Lauren answered the door, “oh-- you’re.. where is she?” Stephanie asked as Lauren opened the door and gestured to the window

“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED!!!” Stephanie repeated as your bridesmaids ran to you

“I KNOW!!! AHH!” you squealed as Lauren closed the door and made her way over to where you stood, “I’m so excited! I’m so nervous...”

“Don’t be nervous,” Lauren smiled, “you have no reason to be nervous”

“She’s right. Freddie will make sure everything runs according to plan,” Amalie added, “he wants it to be perfect for you”

“It’s so cute how much he loves you!” Stephanie cooed

“I was just gonna FaceTime h--” you started only to be interrupted by your sister

“Nuh-uh,” she chided, “you wanted to call him not FaceTime. You guys can’t see each other before the wedding...”

“It’s bad luck!” Steph agreed

“Fine..” you sighed reluctantly, taking your phone with you into the bedroom to call your fiancé, “Hey, my soon-to-be husband”

“Hey, soon-to-be-wife, how are you this morning?” Freddie’s voice was raspy from recently waking up but you could tell he was happy to hear from you

“We’re getting married today, Fred” you whispered with a big smile on your face

“I know” he whispered back

“How’s Vita?” you asked. Freddie said he would keep her with him in his hotel room so that you and the girls could gush and coo over the wedding stuff without having to worry about the baby

“She’s good. She’s still sleeping but she should be waking up soon, do you want to talk to her?”

“No, don’t wake her up. I don’t want to make her cranky” you giggled

“Good idea”

“You have her little flower girl dress?”

“Yes”

“You have everything you need for you and the guys?”

“Yes, baby, don’t worry. Everything is going to be perfect”

“Don’t jinx it!”

“Fred!” you heard a voice call to Freddie, “photographer’s here!”

“(Y/N)! Time for pictures!” Amalie called for the same thing

“Guess we have to say goodbye for now...” Freddie said and you frowned

“Only for a little while” you replied before telling him you loved him and hung up the phone. As you made your way back to your three bridesmaids, the photographer ran through the shots he was planning to take before the rest of your bridal party arrived. You felt a sudden surge of anxiety run through you before Oma and your mom walked through the door

“Where’s our beautiful girl? Liebling!” Oma said with her arms open wide

“Oma!” you exclaimed

“Darling, you’re getting married today!” Oma said, the girls giggled behind you

“I know” you smiled

“It’s time to get your pampering started” your mom said while the hair and makeup team set up

“Isn’t it beautiful here?” you asked everyone, “this hotel room, this hotel. This amazing city on New Year’s Eve. It’s so beautiful, don’t you think?”

“It is,” your wedding planner’s voice rang out as he walked through the door, “and the city will be even more beautiful once you get to your wedding venue. But in order for that to happen, you need to look like a bride. So, let’s get going!” Once Alannah finally showed up, it seemed like everything was happening in a frenzy -- each of your bridesmaids had a makeup artist and a hairstylist work on them while yours worked on you, the photographer snapping pictures from every angle for the perfect shot, your Oma drinking a mimosa before handing you one -- before it was finally time to make your way downstairs to get into the limo that would take you to the Theatre.

“Your dress is waiting for you at the Theatre, so you’ll change there,” the planner said, “let’s go, we have a schedule to keep!” You smiled tentatively, before patting down your jeans and the pockets of your coat to make sure you had everything you needed

“Don’t worry, doll,” Steph said, “you’ve got everything. In the little purse, remember!”

“Right!” you laughed, following the group to the elevator. When you finally got to the Theatre, you were amazed by what everyone had managed to do to transform it

“I know we talked about putting your names on the Marquee,” the planner said, “but, honestly, it felt a little tacky so we didn’t do that”

“Oh, no, I think that was the right choice. This is perfect,” you cooed, “better than anything I could’ve ever dreamed of.” You were in awe with every step you took and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to be able to get married here

“Let’s get you into your dress so we can take a few pictures before the guys show up, yeah?” The planner said as he directed you to your dressing room

“Let’s do it!” you smiled, taking one last look at the lobby and the view of the city as snowflakes began to fall.

Freddie’s P.O.V.

There you stood, on the stage of the Kings Theatre with your friends and family sitting in the seats, all of you waiting for (Y/N) to meet you on stage. When the music changed, you trained your eyes to the doors and took a breath before your fiancée, soon-to-be wife, walked in. Mo and Alannah were first to walk in, then Amalie and Andrew, Seb and Stephanie and finally, Mitch and Lauren before Valdimar made his way to the front with the rings. Oma walked down the aisle with Vita, who picked up the flowers from the basket and tossed them down the aisle, earning little coos and laughs from the crowd. And then it was time for you to see your bride. The beaded tulle of her dress sparkled as the lights hit it and it was just as beautiful as her smile; You couldn’t take your eyes off her and you could tell that she was trying not to trip by the way she had trained her eyes on the ground. But she finally met your eyes when her dad gave her away

“Take good care of her” he said

“I will” you replied softly, before you and the Bridal party helped (Y/N) up onto the stage so she wouldn’t trip over her dress. As she stood in front of you, your heart began to race until you removed her veil from her face

“Hi” she whispered, finally meeting your eyes with hers

“Hi” you whispered back.

“Friends and Family, we’re brought together in the beautiful, historic Kings Theatre to witness a true moment of unconditional love between (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Frederik Andersen. Today, the two will become one”

“When two become one,” (Y/N) sang quietly to herself with a laugh before the officiant looked at her with a smile, “sorry. Please continue.” You squeezed her hand and she bit her lip and the officiant continued to speak

“...and so it is that (Y/N) and Frederik present themselves to be married today, surrounded by those they love most. You both look to a shared future that includes a richly lived life together…going out to restaurants, hanging out with family, relaxing at home in front of the TV, singing and dancing… Bride will do the singing, and Groom will do the dancing.” your friends and family laughed, sparking a smile to spread across (Y/N)’s face as well “The years will come and go… you won’t take each other for granted, you will laugh a lot, you will be the best parents you can be, you will grow older and wiser together. It’s a good story, and one we all hope to have of our own someday. Now, for the words you’ve really been waiting to say, and that we’ve waited to hear, but before we can hear those beautiful vows I know you two have cooked up, I need to hear your intent... to marry one another. Frederik, do you come here freely, and without reservation to give yourself to (Y/N) in marriage? If so, answer ‘I do.’”

“I do” you smiled as you continued to look at your beautiful bride

“(Y/N), do you come here freely, and without reservation to give yourself to Frederik in marriage? If so, answer ‘I do.’”

“I do!” she exclaimed

“Wonderful!” the officiant replied, a bright smile on his face as well, “having heard that it is your intention to marry each other. I now ask you to share your vows”

“(Y/N),” you spoke first, your voice shaky and you could feel your hands begin to sweat, “I’ve never been the most outspoken guy in a room so forgive me if I stumble over my words here.” She laughed softly, squeezing your hands to let you know she was there when you needed her, “every day I get to wake up next to you is a day I know I did something right. I can’t promise that I’ll never make a mistake or that my singing won’t be off key or that my dancing won’t embarrass you but I can promise to love, respect and cherish you everyday. I can promise that I will be the best father to our beautiful daughter and be more than just a husband to you. For as long as I know you, today, tomorrow and the rest of our lives, I will love you and I will forever and always be yours.” Her eyes were brimming with tears as she smiled at you

“My turn? Whew, okay, give me a second!” she joked, wiping away the tears that had escaped her eyes before smiling at you and taking a breath, “my Freddie... From the second I met you, I knew my life would never be the same. I’ve never known someone as sweet and strong and soft and protective as you. I remember our first date; you didn’t talk much, so I blabbered on to fill the silence, and I was convinced that I was never going to see you again but you walked me to my door, like the gentleman you are, and kissed me on the cheek,” another round of laughs from the group in the audience, “right?!” she exclaimed, “I thought I had screwed it up for sure. But then you said, and this I’ll never forget, ‘I could watch you talk all day.’ and right then and there. With those seven words, my life changed. I am so lucky to be the love you chose and to co-parent with you. I can’t promise that I won’t break into song whenever I get the chance or that I won’t change my outfit 20 times before we go out but I will love you until my dying day. I love you, so much.” She finished, a small tear escaping your eye as well as hers and you mouth ‘I love you, too’ and just like that, you were married! And now it was time to party.

As you and your now-husband made your way to the lobby, you were quickly pulled aside by your photography to get a few shots of the newly married couple.

“We’re married!” you whispered to Freddie as the photographer had the two of you pose with your foreheads together

“You’re now Mrs. Andersen” he whispered back, eliciting a small laugh from you that the photographer quickly tried to dismiss. He had the two of you pose in a few more locations before he took the bridal party aside so you and Freddie could say hello to the guests. “Hey, everything okay?” Freddie asked when he saw you alone, looking out the window

“Hey, babe,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to lips, “I just wanted to take in this view for a second. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” He laughed in response before wrapping his arms around you and watching the snow continue to fall onto the concrete streets.

“It’s beautiful” he whispered into your ear

“Do the newlyweds have time for their little girl?” Oma interrupted with a giggle

“Always” Freddie said as the two of you turned around to greet your grandparents who had held onto Vita for the entirety of the ceremony

“You look beautiful, sweetheart” Opa gushed

“Thank you, Opa” you blushed before turning your gaze to Freddie and Vita and you couldn’t help but stare

“Isn’t your mommy beautiful, little elske?” Freddie cooed

“What about daddy, kleine? Isn’t he handsome?” you cooed right back, letting her hand wrap around your finger and your grandparents laughed at you

“Oh yeah,” Oma sighed with a smile, “this one is not going to be without love, not for a minute.”

“We’ll see you three at the reception” Opa said before kissing your cheek and walking out with Oma

“Hey,” Freddie whispered in your ear, “I have pizza upstairs waiting for us.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Andersen?” you joked

“Always, Mrs. Andersen,” he laughed, “no but really. I knew we weren’t going to have a chance to actually eat anything. So, I got Auston to pick us up a pizza and put it in my dressing room.”

“You. are. a. prince,” you smiled, making you laugh at her words, “plus, Vita should probably eat as well. My parents said they’re gonna take her home early”

“Really? Aw that sucks. I mean, I guess it’s something we really didn’t think about. Sorry, little one,” he said to Vita, “come on, let’s head upstairs.” When it came time for everyone to ring in the New Year, meaning everyone had eaten, gotten pictures, gotten very very very drunk and danced to Cha Cha Slide one too many times, you and Freddie told everyone to run outside to catch a few of the fireworks.

“We know it’s going to be cold,” Freddie shouted to the slightly unruly crowd, “but we promise, it will be worth it!”

“And it will only be for a few seconds!” you added and people seemed to agree but you awarded that to the alcohol they had all consumed. Everyone began running outside while you and Freddie stayed back to have a few seconds alone together

“This year has been...” Freddie started, wrapping his arm around your waist while he continued the walk from the reception area to the outside of the Theatre

“A year” you finished, giggling at the only logical answer

“Yes. But you have been there for all of the hard times and the good times. And I don’t know how I would’ve got through any of it, without you.”

“Aww,” you cooed, clearly starting to feel the effects of the alcohol that you had drank earlier in the night, “I love you so much!”

“Let’s get out to the front,” he laughed, “I want to say goodbye to 2020 with you and our friends.” On your way out, you found yourself twirling in your dress, getting distracted by the sparkles that the twinkly lights in the Theatre captured with each step you took

“LOOK FRED!” you squealed, “OH MY GOD! MY DRESS IS SO PRETTY!”

“Alright, drunky,” he laughed, picking you up and carrying you out, fireman style, “let’s go.”

“Nice butt” you snickered, pinching his butt when you could reach it, earning a laugh from Fred before the two of you finally made it outside; just in time to join the countdown

“10... 9... 8... 7...” The group counted as Freddie put you down and held you close, “6... 5... 4...” Someone handed the two of you a glass of champagne and you joined in the last countdown

“3... 2... 1. HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Everyone yelled as fireworks began bursting over Brooklyn. It was a perfect end to a perfect night and the perfect beginning to the rest of your life with Freddie.

#Frederik Andersen #Freddie Andersen #Frederik Andersen imagine #Frederik Andersen series #Freddie Andersen imagine #Freddie Andersen series #masterlist #the other masterlist #this was longer than I thought it would be #i'm not mad at it #but sure it could've been shorter #it could've just ended after the vows #but it didn't #happy new year!

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itsblissfuloblivion · 4 years

Text

Torch - Chapter 9: May

enjoy hinny in 10k++ 🤩😱

THE hbp chapter of all chapters! here it is, finally & we truly hope we did it justice :)

enjoy on AO3 // FFnet too

They’re on the Quidditch pitch, fighting tooth and nail for the Cup, the mighty Gryffindor lion roaring, thundering its sheer strength and power at haughty Ravenclaw. It’s 300 to 290 for Gryffindor and Harry’d rather go down spiralling, Snitch toiling underneath white knuckles, than let those feathered gits get one more Quaffle through that post.

A feeling shared by Ginny as well, it seems, if the banshee scream erupting from her throat is any indication, her face the picture of determination as she soars through the air, splitting open the horizon, red mane of hair fluttering behind her like a ripple of blood over the deep blue of the sky.

A great, deafening lioness’ roar and Ginny pelts the Quaffle so hard it bends the goal post where it hits it before scoring -

Harry’s heart sinks instantly, his eyes bulging, fixed on a limp Ginny falling fast to the ground, apparently having fainted after her spectacular throw, and he screams and dives and jumps off his broom to catch her before she hits the cold hard ground.

Everything’s fine, he’s caught her and he’s holding her close to his...naked chest? Suddenly Harry’s without half his Quidditch gear and, oh, so is Ginny. They’re both bare chested and embracing in the middle of the pitch and Harry’s mortified to hear the wolf-whistles coming from the audience, Luna Lovegood commentating the sudden turn of events like there’s nothing unusual, asking the spectators to close their eyes at once for love making requires a certain level of intimacy.

He tries his best to keep his eyes away from Ginny’s chest, but he can’t do anything about the feeling of her breasts pressed to him, her beautiful, freckled hands rumpling his hair, her lips glued to his jaw, traveling down to his pulse point as she whispers how hot, how fit she finds him. Harry nearly faints when he feels her tongue there.

Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of Dean and Ron playing stone paper scissors to establish who gets to hit Harry first and his own mind screams at him to grab Ginny and run.

Only he can’t, he’s petrified and can’t possibly move any muscle in his body when Ginny’s hand sneaks inside the lower part of his gear and grabs his -

Harry’s eyes snap open and he’s brought back to consciousness (and, sadly, also to a Ginny-less reality) with a loud gasp. It takes him a moment to realise it’s his own hand gripping tightly inside his pajama bottoms, something wet and sticky spread everywhere inside them. Shit.

He silently curses everything from his hormone-controlled mind to his lack of a healthy dose of Gryffindor drama and recklessness when he actually needs it (how else is he going to ever tell her that he fancies her, eh?), pulls his battered old bathrobe around him as tightly as possible and, making sure the rest of the lads are still fast asleep, shuffles to the bathroom on his tippy toes.

May’s only started for a couple of hours and Harry can already predict it won’t unlock anything new for him besides probably some fresh, astounding levels of teenage embarrassment, sprinkled with a new found desire to crawl inside a hole and die.

After a long shower where Harry talks to himself more than is the norm, a few well placed Evanescos, and a perhaps ill-advised assist from Dobby, Harry thinks he’s probably in the best frame of mind possible after last night’s episode.

It’s been quite a while since he attempted the ‘Ginny’s like my sister’ method of internal browbeating - the repeated dreams and daydreams made him feel squeamish - but he’s still firmly in the ‘mind over matter’ camp. Yes he clearly fancies her, yes she’s cheeky and smart and beautiful and probably the plain coolest person he’s ever met aside from Sirius or Bill, but she’s off limits. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Most of the time.

Other times, he wonders what it would be like to just give in to it. To drum up some courage, act like he’s flying high on Felix Felicis, and...and do something that ends up with Ginny snogging the daylights out of him.

But those ideas only last so long. Usually crashing down with a confused look from Ron and a wondering question of when Harry became a ‘bleary eyed guppy’, ‘dead faced lemming’, or any other animal based insult that Ron uses to disguise how much he cares.

Which is really the problem. Harry’s not afraid of Ron in the ‘big brother is going to rip out your innards sense.’ They’ve had their share of arguments over the years and Harry’s grown fairly confident in his ability to hold his own in a fight - magic or no. Which is a level of bravado that may be hereditary, and also a good way to get his face punched in.

Nonetheless, if it were just about having it out with Ron about being a nosy git, it’s one thing, but Ron cares so much more than he wants to admit. He’s a protective, overly-invested Molly Weasley trapped in the body of a freckled gangly thing with an inability to admit actual feelings. And among those are the very real instincts that he has to keep his best mate and his kid sister from getting their hearts broken.

Not that Harry’s in any position to judge emotional constipation.

And even with the mess swirling around his crowded head, Harry feels he’s in a somewhat better mindset post-shower and even finds himself able to carry on a mildly coherent conversation with Ron and Hermione later on the way to breakfast.

Yes, he’s feeling quite chuffed with himself as he crunches into a marmalade-drenched triangle of toast until three things happen at once.

Said marmalade decides it much prefers his tie to crispy bread, Harry’s brain decides not to let any of his breakfast go to waste, and Ginny Weasley claims the seat across from him.

So his first non-dream Ginny sighting of May 1997 is a wild eyed glance while he’s sucking orange marmalade from his tie and juggling a half eaten piece of toast in his free hand.

Bloody perfect.

Of course, she’s a damn sight to see, two braids wrapping her hair into intricate patterns, freckles dark against sun-red skin, shirt only partially buttoned, and her tie dangling like a scarf around her neck.

Harry is a different sort of sight, but he earns gawking just as much. So when Ginny bites back a smirk and lifts one brow in his direction, he really can’t fault whatever comes next.

“I see you’ve had a bit of a morning, eh, Harry?”

God, she’s amazing.

“Er - yeah.”

She reaches for the dish piled high with fluffy scrambled eggs and Harry jolts to assist, his fingers brushing hers just barely. Ginny seems fine, completely unruffled, but his idiotic mind jumps right back to the last time they touched. Well - dream Harry and dream Ginny touched.

When dream Ginny’s hand was reaching for something other than eggs and her groan was for him -

Although, technically, eggs were in fact the first touch they shared, Ginny felt so real - but that’s certainly not a thought to be had early in the morning and especially not in the vicinity of older brothers and more or less the entirety of the Hogwarts student body.

She sighs and takes another bite. “If any of you repeat this I’ll deny it, but sometimes I think the elves make better eggs than Mum.”

Ron shrugs and pushes another forkful past his lips. “Dunno, eggs are eggs. ‘Cept those weird Muggle powdered ones Dad made us all eat for the educational value.”

“I can’t help but think about how our food ends up here,” Hermione says, shuffling her oatmeal around absently, “We eat from slave labor - I think that’s why I prefer home cooking,” she blushes and studiously keeps her eyes from Ron when she murmurs, “Especially Mrs. Weasley’s Beef Wellington.”

Apparently, this is quite effective at hooking Ron’s attention. Which anyone who’s known Ron for more than a day can tell you is a feat when seated at any meal. But Hermione’s a clever one to be sure, and she was bound to figure it out after six years.

Harry’s wondering if he’s willing to pass up the opportunity to tease the two of them on the off chance that Ron pulls his head out of his arse and actually makes a move before they’re thirty, when he feels someone nudge him beneath the table.

He glances up and finds Ginny watching him expectantly. “You’re awfully quiet - should I worry there’s a snitch among us?”

“I’m going to need compensation to cross Molly Weasley,” Harry answers, swallowing the last of his tea.

And in the first stroke of luck Harry’s had today, he’s managed to swallow by the time Ginny winks and asks, “What do you have in mind?”

He does choke on his tongue, which isn’t left open for comment because in a simultaneous moment of perfect and horrific timing, Ron decides to obliviously insert himself back into the conversation. “How about pay him back with a good offense against Ravenclaw? They’ve gotten too arrogant.”

Hermione snorts, but Ron misses it, already knee deep in a strategy debate with Ginny. Harry however doesn’t miss a thing. Not the affectionate glance she casts toward Ron before darting her gaze between Harry and Ginny, then lingering on Harry and giving him an obnoxiously knowing look.

She’s too smart to hang around sometimes.

Once Ron’s finished his third helping of eggs, the foursome rise from their seats and Ron begins prodding Hermione for tips on wand movements. A turn of events Harry really thinks he can’t be expected to ignore. It’s low hanging fruit and yet completely irresistible.

He’s about to cut in with some already half-formed jibe because really, wand movement tips, when Ginny sidles up beside him and threads her arm through the crook of his elbow. “This is such perfect material it almost feels too easy to be that fun.”

“Ron’s a bit of an idiot, isn’t he?” Harry says with a laugh.

“At least when it comes to Hermione.”

“Girls in general maybe,” Harry puts in as they exit the Great Hall, amongst the slow trickle of late crowd, “Lest we forget the Lavender trials.”

“Oh hell, that was a bloody nightmare.”

“At least you didn’t have to see it up close and personal,” Harry groans, “You were with - “ he clears his throat, “Busy.”

Ginny bites back a laugh, rolling her eyes when a few Ravenclaws elbow past with impatient looks. “Something like that.”

She grabs the strap of his bag and pulls them off toward the side, a little alcove where the corridor splits between upper and lower classrooms, while Ron and Hermione continue on their way, deep in conversation.

Harry props his shoulders against the stone, arms crossed over his chest and one foot kicked up while Ginny lifts one hand to straighten his tie.

“You know that feint last practice was pretty impressive - sometimes I think you could go pro if you wanted.”

“Only sometimes?” Harry asks, eyes twinkling when Ginny snickers.

“I said what I said.”

“Well, I’ve got to keep my game sharp. There’s an upstart Chaser who’s got eyes for the captainship and my spot on the team.”

Ginny toys with the end of one of her braids before blinking up at him, all innocence. “No idea who you’d mean. Everyone knows Chaser’s the best position. Seekers just want glory - Chasers are the lifeblood of the team and the game itself.”

Her hands are back at his tie, this time fiddling with the end, while Harry somehow finds him bracing his forearm against the wall, looming too close to Ginny for his sanity. Which is why it sounds a little strangled when he responds, “Oh really?”

Ginny flicks the silky fabric between her fingers and shrugs, “Yes, really. Who’d want to sit and watch a couple of skinny gits circling the pitch for hours on end, just waiting for something to happen. Chasers are in it from the beginning, making things happen, getting shit done.”

Harry somehow ends up leaning closer because Ginny Weasley is a damn magnet or a bloody lamp and he’s an idiot fly. Hell, she smells amazing. “Well, Seekers, they play the long game,” he clears his throat when she licks her lips and blinks up at him, waiting, “On the surface it’s like nothing’s happening but they, ah - always show up in the end.”

Ginny bites her lip, her voice almost a whisper when she asks, “Is that so?”

It takes three swallows before Harry’s voice becomes audible, “Mhm, true and plain as the nose on your face.”

Ginny’s response dies in her throat when Ron jogs back towards them and shouts across the now bustling hall - a development Harry’ll wonder how he missed later on - yelling something about being late for class.

Harry misses most of it because Ginny pulls on the end of his tie and winks right at him, before offering a cheeky salute. “See you at practice, Captain.”

Later, when Ron’s down for his pre-practice kip, Harry ends up with Hermione in the Common Room while she works on her outline for their final exam in Potions and Harry reads over his Transfiguration notes. It’s a half-assed attempt, to be sure, and Harry’s expecting this to be the subject of Hermione’s oncoming conversation.

Instead, as she slides a bookmark into place and sets her textbook aside, she says, “So you’ve never really had a girlfriend, right?”

Harry frowns, wondering whether the two worst dates of all time count as having a very short lived girlfriend. Hermione toys with one of the curls escaped from her bun and says, “Cho doesn’t count - neither does the Yule Ball. Cho was just a date and the other was a complete trainwreck of pre-pubescent attempts at wooing.”

“Thanks for the assessment,” Harry answers, dry.

Hermione presses her lips into a thin line, blows out a deep breath and finally seems to settle on what she’d like to say next. “Girls. Well, girls aren’t all the same, of course. I suppose I should just say people - there’s a thing called body language.”

“Hermione, I know what body language is.”

She grunts. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter if you know but do nothing about it. I’ve read a lot about it.”

“I’m shocked.”

Hermione jabs him with her quill. “I’ve read a lot about it and I can say with absolute certainty that we had some major signals being fired today at breakfast.”

“I have no doubt that’s true, Miss Let Me Tutor You In Wand Movements.”

Blushing, Hermione tosses her quill at Harry, splattering ink across his much abused tie. Hopefully Dobby is in the mood to help Harry bleach ink, butter, marmalade, and newt’s eyes out of silk.

“What I am trying to say - I want to help you,” she raises her palm when Harry tries to respond, “I want to help by telling you that all those bottled up feelings seem quite mutual.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes, and you’d be an idiot to let it go to waste.”

“The feelings?”

“The connection,” Hermione corrects, “It’s a special thing, to get each other. To know someone so intimately without even trying. Just, don’t take it for granted. We both know how easy it is to let it slip away, even just a little.”

Sighing, Harry nods and tucks his things away in his satchel. “I’ve got Quidditch.”

Hermione waves him off, “Of course - just think about it? Second chances are easier to come by than third.”

Harry’s tempted to parrot what she’d said but quickly changes tactics when he runs into Ginny, Demelza, and Katie giggling near the portrait hole, bags dangling on their shoulders. He flashes them a wide grin instead.

“Wait up, losers,” Ron hurries down the stairs before they can disappear without him, bleary eyed but somehow also ready for a brawl. “Your King is coming.”

Harry’s always respected Ron’s gameness, his ability to sniff a fight (or the possibility of one) from a distance and jump right into it, damn the torpedoes.

“Who died and made you king, Weasley?” Ginny scoffs, eyeing her brother with a pleased smirk. They were all very happy Ron no longer gave Slytherin that kind of power over him as he’d long since turned the meaning of the word ‘king’ in his favour.

“Last name basis is a no go for siblings,” Ron instructs as he hops down next to them, the entire team having congregated there over the span of the last couple of minutes.

“Why?”

“‘Cause it’s weird, now let’s shift,” Ron grins and Harry too feels pumped, his best mate’s energy infectious.

The team jostles their way through the portrait hole, earning a few choice words from the Fat Lady in her post-dinner wine haze. Harry offers her an apologetic smile and salutes when she lifts her glass in acknowledgement.

Katie saunters up to his side and throws an arm around his neck. “Got an eye for our good ol’ Fat Lady?”

Demelza bounces up and bats her eyes, grasping her chest with an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t tell me our gallant captain is off the market.”

“I will have you doing laps, Robbins,” Harry threatens with a laugh while Ron comes up on his opposite side and nudges his jaw.

“Ickle Harry growing up? Finally going to make good on all those hormones pulsing through his scrawny little body?”

“Shove off.”

As they break out into the golden evening, Ginny joins the group jibing Harry, tossing her braid over her shoulder as she walks backwards. “Don’t tease Harry just because none of you get anywhere with the Fat Lady.”

“I could if I wanted to,” Demelza sniffs, “Well, before she had her heart set on the Boy Who Lived over here.”

“Right,” Harry drawls, “‘Cause we all know that title has gotten me loads of action.”

He slaps Ron’s hand away as it ruffles his hair while they near the changing rooms. Ron’s already stripping his outer robes when he calls out. “That’s not for lack of trying on their part - we all know you could have as much ‘action’ as you want.”

Ginny tosses her practice Quaffle at Ron - and remarkably he catches it without a thought - before she says, “Well, yeah, Ron, but who wants a simpering fool for a girlfriend?”

She leaves it at that and disappears into the opposite end of the changing room, but not before sharing a long glance with Harry. Which he assumes is an unspoken allusion to Ron’s recently ended relationship. But there was something beneath the teasing - like she looked right through him and just knew what he was, what he wanted. Even better than he did.

Shaking his head, Harry followed the rest of the team to suit up, hoping a few hours sweating on the pitch would clear his head.

In his theoretical vision of this head-clearing experience, Harry would work hard, practice some new maneuvers, and yell himself hoarse to get himself back on track.

Instead, he spends a good portion of the evening getting beat up by his own damn team. And not because they’re that good, or because of some ‘Ravenclaw will give us worse’ training technique. No, it’s his own idiotic inability to bloody focus on anything but Ginny in the air.

She’s like nothing he’s ever seen, like she’d never been tethered to the ground like everyone else but born on a broom, born to fly as high as she desires. They’re a great team, Harry’s convinced even Oliver Wood would concede the point. But Ginny’s a class above. Everything flows naturally though he knows Ginny’s expertise is far from some kind of genetic lottery. She works hardest of any of them, spends her summers stealing out into the fields behind the Burrow to toss Quaffles, dodge charmed Bludgers, and dive and swoop through self-made obstacle courses.

And it doesn’t end once she’s back at Hogwarts. Harry’s watched her from his window - in a non creepy way, clearly - many a night as she streaked across the orange sky, bent low over her broom while her hair flew behind her like the tail of a comet.

She’s winding up for another shot at Ron’s weak side when Harry suddenly finds himself airborne in the non-broom assisted way while pain blooms across his right side.

He vaguely hears swear-laden exclamations over the screaming of the wind in his ears while he fumbles for his broom or wand or something that’ll slow his plummet towards the pitch.

What is it with May and people slipping off their brooms, fantasy wise or not.

In the end, he does manage to shout a few spells that somewhat slow his descent before someone grabs his arm and stops him from splattering on the grass below. Luckily, he wasn’t at full speed when his savior stepped in because even with the lessened velocity it feels like his arm is in one place and the rest of him traveled an extra foot.

When he looks up, still too shocked to register whether anything hurts, he finds Ginny frowning at him from her broom. “Hells bells, Harry, what was that?”

“I, er - it’s hard being in the game and being Captain sometimes.”

She furrows her brow and reaches her other hand toward him while they slowly sink to the ground. “I don’t remember it being this hazardous to Angelina’s health.”

Harry winces and rolls his shoulder, glad for the movement, and maybe preening just a bit under Ginny’s attention. However mothering it may be.

Demelza drops down next to them and smirks. “Cap, you’ve got to keep your head in the game if we’re going to beat those swotty Ravenclaws.”

“Least we know it’s not dislocated,” Ron adds as he wanders over, “Charlie’s done that so many times he can pop it in and out at will.”

Katie grimaces, “Ew.”

“Mum hates when he does that,” Ginny says with a chuckle, “But she didn’t know he used it to get Percy to do his chores for him.”

Their laughter feels like a good end to practice, and if he’s honest, Harry’s arm really is a bit sore to go much longer. So seeing as they’re already all earthbound, he blows his whistle and they begin wandering toward the changing rooms.

When Ginny falls into step at his side, Harry nudges her with his elbow, “That was a pretty impressive catch, Gin.”

She startles a little but grins as she pushes stray hairs back from her face. “Thanks. Can’t have Mum coming after me for letting her favourite fall to his death for Quidditch of all things.”

Harry snorts and shoves her shoulder, because he’s a pubescent idiot who makes up reasons to touch girls he fancies like a ninny and now he winces ‘cause of course rapid movements from injured limbs bloody hurt. To keep himself somewhat sane, he begins putting up the balls and Ginny moves to help. He’s quiet a moment before he says, “Seriously though, it was almost as good as my catch first year.”

“Mhm,” Ginny nods, thoughtfully, “I guess catching you in my mouth would have been pretty impressive.”

“You wish you could get me in your mouth,” Harry shoots back, and immediately wishes for a swift death.

For her part, Ginny simply glances up at him and lifts her brows for a moment. The rest of the team’s kept moving towards the castle at this point, with Demelza quarelling with Coote and Peakes over who’s hungrier, and Harry’s stopped dead. Frozen like he’s been stunned. Ginny bites her lip, considering. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I - ”

“Oi!”

Harry jolts at Ron’s voice and they both twist to find Ron shouting from yards away. “Planning on coming back inside before end of term?”

Ginny flips Ron off while Harry summons their robes with a flick of his wand. “I don’t particularly feel like changing again, just to head upstairs.”

They begin walking toward Ron and Ginny smirks, their previous conversation lost. Which is exactly what Harry wanted, right?

“Plus, if you’ve got an excuse to head up to your dorm, you can escape Hermione’s revision schedule for the evening.”

“I like the way you think, Weasley.”

“Learned from the best,” Ginny says, easy, “Good ol’ Gred and Forge. And ha, I knew you were off by a mile when you said siblings can’t employ a last name basis. I win!”

Tales, the truthfulness of which Harry’s not quite sure, bounce back and forth between Ron and Ginny once they’ve reunited, and shared laughter carries them up to Gryffindor Tower and through the portrait hole.

He’s feeling a bit giddy with Ron’s arm tossed around his shoulder and Ginny leaning into his side for support as she doubles over,o when Dean’s withering glare falls on the trio.

Was he waiting for them? Who does that?

...Asks the boy who’s been waiting for the same person late at night, pretending to study alone in the Common Room. Same person as in Ginny, definitely not Dean.

Ginny’s the last of them to notice, and she mostly does because Ron goes still while his entire body tenses for a fight. She’s also the first to recover, offering an unimpressed glance at Dean before she winks at Harry and wishes her best for his injury.

By the time she’s disappeared into the 5th Year Girls’ Dorm, Ron’s still in some weird staring match with Dean that Harry jostles him from with a casual jab to his arm. “Let’s head up before Hermione ropes us in for more revising, eh?”

Ron startles but complies as Harry pulls him towards the dorm. They’re halfway up the stairs when Ron grumbles. “I swear next idiot that so much as looks at Ginny’ll get my fist in his face.”

Bloody buggering hell.

______

Harry’s not sure if the near-duel with a trio of macho Slytherins is a mark of continued bad luck, or simply the universe’s complete investment in torturing him. Sure, he didn’t get detention, which definitely would have happened if they’d dueled. Slytherins inevitably report to Snape and if Harry so much as breathes wrong it seems he finds himself being punished by the former Potions Master.

Sometimes, he thinks perhaps his dad had been pushed and pushed until that day by the lake. Thinks that maybe he understands getting so frustrated, so caught up in the back and forth taunts and fighting that you forget that there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed.

And one day, Harry fears he’ll lose sight of that line and nobody will be there to pull him back.

He’s felt the tickle of that righteous anger before, that whisper in his ear that some people just push and push and maybe -

And maybe Harry’s more like Voldemort than he’d like to accept. Dumbledore swore there was no comparison, that his fears were unfounded. And yet -

“What’s up, Mr Sad Face?”

Harry starts as Ginny drops down next to him on the grass, hair loose and blowing in the wind skirting off the Great Lake. “I can’t really argue with that description.”

Ginny nudges his leg with the toe of her shoe, stray bits of grass falling from the patent leather. “Share with the class?”

Harry’s silent for a moment, hands twisting in his lap.

“Do you think I’m - do you think I could be evil?”

For a moment, Ginny just considers him, then she lets out a loud laugh. “I thought you might be joking. But you aren’t, are you?”

“No - I just. Today with those Slytherins. Sometimes with Malfoy or Snape. I worry where I’d go if I didn’t stop.”

“Well that’s your answer right there,” Ginny says as she loosens her tie and lounges back on her palms. While the sunlight filters through the tree, Ginny lets her eyes drift shut and waits for Harry to consider what she’s said.

“Because I think about it?”

Ginny pins him with her gaze. “Do you think Voldemort or Bellatix or any of them stop to wonder whether they’ve gone too far? Or whether they’re evil?”

“I dunno. I mean probably not Voldemort but - ”

She drops her hand into the grass so the tips of her fingers brush his. “You are one of the bravest, kindest, most loving and selfless people I’ve ever known. Sometimes I worry you forgive too much. So you, Harry James, are the farthest thing from old Moldy Shorts there can be.”

Harry snorts.

“Except maybe Dobby.”

Their attention drifts to the Giant Squid, churning about in the murky waters, before Harry murmurs, “When am I going to help you out?”

Ginny laughs like he surprised it out of her. “Remember my first year? We’re good for a bit.”

Flushing, Harry rips up a handful of grass and watches the shorn blades float away on the breeze. “That doesn’t count.”

“Well, what does, then?” Ginny says, brows raised, “I can’t imagine anything much more ‘helpful.’”

“There was no choice,” Harry shrugs, “You deciding to listen to me whine about my teen angst is an ongoing project.”

“Well that’s what we are for each other - we’re,” Ginny pauses as their eyes lock and Harry almost thinks she leans towards him, like she’s thinking about the same things he dreams about too often.

But before either of them can give the idea much more consideration, the Giant Squid’s aerobics increase in forcefulness and sends a spurt of water directly into Harry’s face.

“Shit.”

Ginny laughs while he swipes at his face, glasses dangling from his fingers, but she soon lifts them from his grasp and dries them on the tail of her shirt.

“See, even the Squid’s on my side.”

He’s content to simply watch her laugh, the thought that she might’ve sought him out today quickly ghosting through his mind before he brushes it away.

________

Harry simultaneously feels like he could break something - Snape’s neck no less - and also poorly, badly, even sorry for what he did. But how could’ve he known?

He should’ve known, he should have. All the signs were there, but Harry wanted, needed to trust the Prince. And so Draco Malfoy almost bled to death after a too easily muttered spell.

He’s about as deep as he can dive down into the pit of self-loathing when Ginny unexpectedly cuts off Hermione’s snappish, smug comments, knocks her off her high horse. It doesn’t make Harry feel any better about himself, though, but it does divert his attention for a bit, his disappointment at having been somehow deceived by the Prince.

Enough to remember that he won’t play the final match, he won’t be there for his team, to cheer them and keep their spirits up. They’d have to play without him. All those hours of hard work…

Some captain he is.

He needs to scream into a pillow.

When the day finally drags along, Harry’s careful to duck his head and disappear before he can meet anyone, miserably carrying himself to Snape’s lair, hatred sizzling above the surface. He braces himself for what’s about to come, steels himself. He can do it.

Harry can’t stop himself worrying about his team, angry thoughts mixing together with hope and fear and guilt. What if Ron’s confidence flounders? And they all somehow forget the defence tactics they’d rehearsed almost obsessively? What if Katie or Demelza get hit and they’re suddenly a Chaser short?

God, what if Ginny’s injured?

Harry battles his mind, troubled as the minutes crawl their way into hours and Snape finally relents. He springs out of there before the slimy git can change his mind.

Harry’s at the portrait hole in a heartbeat, hesitating before he tries the password. If they’d lost, it’ll be his fault. If they’d let the Quidditch Cup slip, it’ll only be his slip. He’s the only one responsible, not them.

He finally summons what’s left of his Gryffindor courage and strengthens his resolve. “Quid agis?”

“You’ll see,” the Fat Lady smartly replies and Harry braces himself for whatever’s waiting for him inside. They’ve lost before, it’s not like he doesn’t know what failure tastes like. Although they’ve trained so hard this year, they were so bloody close -

Then Harry’s yanked inside by several pairs of hands gripping haphazardly at his clothes, people shouting and screaming at the sight of him and for a moment he seriously fears he’s stumbled into the middle of a public execution: his very own.

Irrational fear morphs into plain shock when he sees Ron brandishing the Cup at him, screeching numbers at him, his teammates roaring in delight, calling Harry ‘Captain’, asking him how proud he is of them all.

It’s a whirlwind of colours and sounds in Harry’s mind and at the centre of it all there’s Ginny, a hard, blazing look in her face as she comes running towards him, long ginger hair fluttering behind her, arms spread wide. She’s beautiful, more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

Harry’s heart leaps violently and his mind disconnects.

Years after that day, they’d still debate who kissed who. But right then, Harry couldn’t be bothered. All he cared to know was Ginny, her mouth on his, her warm body in his arms, and that finally - ha, it was even funny to think it, but finally reality was better than his dreams.

The sound returns to Harry’s ears, the giggles and whispers and wolf-whistles buzzing against his eardrums. The monster inside his chest roars triumphantly and Harry grins madly, his eyes shining as they meet Ron’s and he nods, his heart leaping out of its cage in pure delight when he looks at Ginny and her dazzling smile.

Their hands lock as they climb through the portrait hole and Harry feels a sudden spring in his step, a toothy grin glued to his glowing face. The feel of her palm in his, so soft except for one blister blossoming right at the centre of it, ah, it makes Harry’s head spin.

He doesn’t even hesitate when they reach the top of the marble staircase towering over the Great Hall. He simply beams at Ginny and, leaning in to press his lips to hers again, sweeps her up and holds her tightly to his chest as she shrieks playfully against his mouth. The chatter and whiz of the crowded Hall stop abruptly.

“Oi, who’s got their tongue down Weasley’s throat?”

“Oh my god, that’s Potter! Potter and Weasley!”

And the chorus of voices, the general ruckus and chaos of the Great Hall envelop the castle once again and Harry doesn’t even care who spotted them and that people are pointing their fingers at Ginny and him. He’s purely content to put on a show if that means he’s able to hold her like that.

Ginny’s laughing too and she laces their fingers together again, tugging him down the stairs and quickly through the crowds of students gawking at them, out of the Castle through the ancient doors.

They run until breathing becomes hard and they stop, hands on their knees and slightly hunched over, to pant and laugh and grin madly at each other, the late spring breeze lightly whipping Ginny’s hair over her beautiful face, caressing her freckles.

“Shall we?” Ginny nudges over to a sunny patch of grass and wildflowers blooming round the bark of a giant tree. Somebody’s carved a heart and many initials of past lovers have been added inside it and around it and Harry thinks it’s all very fitting.

M.P.+A.W.

J.P.+L.E.

He drops next to her with a thud and Ginny slips her hand inside his. Harry studies her face for a moment, pushes a strand of ginger hair behind her small ear, and, like magnets, he allows his mouth to find hers again. It takes a long time before they break away.

Harry’s stomach fills with something warm when he feels her tongue dart over his lips and instantly opens his mouth for her. He’s never kissed anyone like that, not that he’s too experienced in the kissing department, but Ginny’s tongue rolling over his has his toes curling and, just like that, he’s breathless and desperate to mirror every single one of her actions.

She shifts on her knees, her arms lock around his neck and immediately grip at his hair; lightly, gently at first, then more urgent as their kiss deepens and Harry pulls her onto his lap without thinking.

“I’ve always wanted to see how your hair feels,” Ginny says, a little out of breath, her cheeks tinged pink and Harry fights hard to stifle a yelp. Instead, he concentrates on summoning all the dormant coolness he hopefully has and hasn’t been aware of till now.

“Any thoughts post-hair feel?”

Ginny flashes him a mischievous smile, fingers twirling a couple of dark locks at the back of his head. “It’s glorious.”

Harry knows there’s a new stupid grin plastered to his face and he privately thinks there won’t ever come a day when Ginny’s compliments won’t make him feel like he can suddenly float three meters above the ground.

Then a sudden, irrational panic washes over him. “This isn’t a dream, yes?”

“I’d be very annoyed if it were. You’ve been crawling your way into a ridiculous amount of mine for me to remain sane,” she tells him before dipping her head to kiss him again and Harry purrs. She’d been dreaming about him too, ha!

It’s dark outside and they’re incredibly windswept when they finally stop and realise how much time has actually passed. They’ve been completely oblivious to the chill that fell over the Scottish mountains at sunset, too busy discovering each other, too happy to feel anything else.

“I desperately need a shower, I reek,” Ginny scrunches her nose as they trot back to the Castle, hands holding tightly to each other.

“Yeah, great idea, I’ll join,” Harry chimes enthusiastically. Any day with Snape leaves him feeling filthy and in need of a long, hot shower and a good scrub.

It’s only when she stops dead in her tracks that he becomes aware of how it must’ve sounded to her. Harry blushes furiously, two seconds away from hyperventilating.

“Oh, no, no, no! Not like that - I meant separate showers for us, yeah, not together, er - I was definitely not suggesting. Oh, god. Please don’t break up with me,” he finishes lamely.

But Ginny appears to find him adorable and tells him so, rising on the soles of her Quidditch boots to cup his face and bring him down for another kiss, heated and hard, leaving him dizzy and winded.

Their cheeks are equally flushed as they climb two stairs at a time, expertly avoiding the missing ones, and stealing another couple of quick kisses in front of the Fat Lady, who hides her face, embarrassed by such shameless displays of frivolity. She swings open without requesting the password and Harry and Ginny grin at each other.

“See you in a bit, yeah?” Ginny smiles at him, her hands roaming through his hair one last time before he nods and kisses her and stands at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Girls’ Dormitories grinning stupidly.

He’s hit with an eyeful of Ron’s disgusted look when he turns around, but Harry only shrugs and heads to the showers feeling more relaxed than he’s ever been.

______

“Where have you been?” Hermione throws him a knowing look between two sips of tea and a bite of toast when Harry inserts himself between her and Ginny that morning, successfully earning a filthy glance from Ron.

“Busy coiffing his hair,” Ron mutters but Harry doesn’t balk.

Hermione disguises her giggle poorly, “Really, Harry? I’ve never seen you put any amount of effort into taming your hair.”

Harry shrugs casually, “Not taming. And I’ve been told it’s glorious.”

Ginny winks and Ron pretends to vomit in his milk and cereal.

“Honestly, is that what you’ll be like every time Harry and I are together?” Ginny’s words are clipped though her thumb rubs circles on the back of Harry’s hand under the table before she slides her palm into his, plays with his fingers. His stomach churns wildly; hearing her say they are together, Harry’s chest might actually burst with the sheer force of the happiness he’s feeling.

“Yeah, if it’ll mean you’ll be less gross.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” And Ginny swiftly grabs Harry’s face and kisses him hard on the lips to a chorus of Ron’s irritated splutter and mugs being banged on the long table as Romilda Vane marches out of the Great Hall looking very much like a cat whose tail got stubbed.

“I’m telling Mum about your indecent, well, cavorting.”

“You big baby.”

Harry simply watches in amusement as the Weasley siblings stick their tongues out of each other, brandish threats under each other’s freckly noses. Then Ginny decides she’s had enough and puts an end to the brotherly conversation by pelting a pastry in Ron’s general direction, which sadly plonks right between his bright blue eyes.

“I’m really happy for you, Harry,” Hermione smiles, lightly squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry grins, watching as Ron unsuccessfully attempts to tackle Ginny at the other end of the Great Hall, Filch at their heels with a sopping mop and a maniacal glint in his eyes as he chants the word ‘detention’.

And he means it. Nothing’s able to snuff the pure, complete happiness pumping through him. Not Snape, not the piles of homework he’s been neglecting and definitely not Dean shouldering him as Harry sits alone in the corridor, waiting for Ginny to finish Charms so they can enjoy lunch together outside.

Not even Malfoy and his dirty deeds can occupy Harry’s mind more than a millisecond. There’s not enough room for much next to Ginny, she somehow makes everything else wither.

Harry’s practically skipping towards her when she bursts through the door next to Demelza, waving at Ginny frantically when she greets him with a glowing smile and a kiss.

“Saucy,” Demelza smirks, patting both of them on the back. “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it, then. Later, Captain!”

“She meant me,” Ginny teases, taking his hand in hers.

“Easy there, Gin. Power-hungry doesn’t paint a pretty colour on you,” Harry jibes good-naturedly as they walk across the Great Hall.

“Not trying to overthrow you just yet. I’m just saying, taking into account your tendency to win yourself detentions and all.”

“Oi, I’ve got a reputation to protect. Can’t break my streak now, you know.”

“Ah, so you’re not planning on doing a 180 and returning to Hogwarts for your final year as The Boy Who’s Been Tamed’?”

“Not too much hope for that I’m afraid.”

“Good,” Ginny says as they stop in front of the tree that sheltered them very nicely the day before, “I like you better when you’re bad.”

Harry lets out a lame groan, his legs having turned to absolute jelly when Ginny yanks him by the tie and he lets her snog him silly on the sun-warmed grass.

Naturally, they forget about lunch that day. And the next. And the one after that, trading food for kisses, urgent and heated, determined to make up for the time they’ve lost before they found each other.

And if Harry’s absolutely honest with himself, he can admit that studying has been getting more or less the same treatment - until Hermione puts her hands on her hips and nags him about interfering with Ginny’s OWLs revision. After that, it’s only his own studying that’s neglected, as he gladly spends his time away from Ginny thinking about her.

“Come study with me in the library?” Ginny asks on a Saturday morning, freckled fingers ruffling his hair as he lounges on the battered old couch near the hearth, head in her lap.

“Ha, I knew Hermione talked dung when she said you’d concentrate better without me.” He grins up at her, hands raising to clasp around her neck and bring her down for a short kiss.

“Actually, she’s right.”

“Oh?”

“I just don’t plan on revising much today,” Ginny winks, bites her bottom lip.

“Tell me more.”

“I can’t focus anyway, some messy haired bloke keeps popping into my mind, it’s quite annoying really.”

“Is that right? And what does he say?”

Ginny’s teeth sink deeper into her lip before she leans in to whisper something into his ear that immediately results in Harry hastily reaching for a pillow, subtly planting it over his middle region. “Don’t let your brother discover you know words like that,” Harry says for want of something smarter.

Ginny scoffs. “Want me to shout ‘penis’?”

“Please don’t,” Harry shakes his head, panicked, then steals a furtive glance over at Ron hunched over a table by the window with Hermione, what looks like the entirety of Hogwarts library sprawled between them.

“Just teasing you,” she laughs, cups his cheek between two fingers. “Don’t know why you’re so careful anyway, like you’re always walking on your tiptoes round him. What’ll you do when you're be staying at the Burrow with us this summer?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we’ll be sharing a room, won’t we?”

“Will we?” Harry’s genuinely not thought that far ahead, content to live in the moment with her. Or probably because he’s utterly terrified of Mrs Weasley and her legendary wrath.

“Won’t we?”

There’s a beat before Ginny breaks character and, giggling, pats Harry’s cheek. “Still messing with you. Mum would probably lose it if I request we amend any of her room arrangements. Although, I will expect you to put your resourcefulness to good use for some midnight visits.”

She winks and Harry needs to press the pillow to his crotch again. The way she’s playing with his heart rate, god, he’s surprised he’s not experienced any strokes yet.

Harry clears his throat. “Weren’t we supposed to be in the library by now?”

Ginny grins.

He has absolutely no clue what books he’d stuffed inside his bag before dashing out of Gryffindor Tower, Ginny giggling behind him as they race towards the library. Harry’s aware he’s never been this enthusiastic about revising in his entire student life but then again revising never meant anything other than last minute cramming or perhaps doodling whilst pretending to read. What the both of them have in mind is much, much less boring.

They find a secluded corner and drop their book bags willy-nilly on the table, Ginny summoning various tomes at random to stack them high in front of them like walls to their citadel. Harry props his chair against the wall and, watching her intently, leans back on it, waits for her to join him.

And then she does, their fingers link together, her calf moving over his as their lips slowly slant against one another, then faster, harder, fervently.

There’s so much heat inside Harry’s body, he has to kiss, to bite, to lick, anything, or else he’ll scream, he’ll go mad. The thought of ripping his own clothes off to blow some steam quickly passes through his mind but Harry waves it away before his other brain can decide it’s a fantastic idea.

“Kiss my neck again?” Ginny asks between their snogs and Harry groans.

His mouth is at her neck, hot air blown there before he licks and grazes with his teeth, his hands in Ginny’s ginger hair, her hands pulling at his messy locks. He sucks a bit and bites and Ginny moans into his ear, tells him he’s good and brilliant and don’t stop as his tongue flicks and rolls over the bruising skin.

It’s when Ginny moves her knee between his legs that Harry finally loses balance and forgets himself. The chair he’d been sitting on bangs loudly against the wall but he doesn’t care; Ginny’s hands are at his belt.

“Who’s in there?”

They freeze, tongues in each other’s mouths, as Madam Pince’s clipped steps approach them.

“Show yourselves,” the library matron fiercely demands.

Harry presses a finger to his lips and, pointing his wand toward his bag, summoning it close enough that he can grasp the Cloak. Gently he slips it over them and slowly, carefully they wait for Pince to calm down - although she nearly faints at the sight of her beloved books stacked in forgotten piles on top of a table, crudely taken out of their respective shelves and plainly, rudely abandoned.

They manage to sneak past her, tiptoeing their way out of the library and behind a tapestry of trolls in tutus to assess the situation.

“Well, you look positively ravished,” Ginny laughs, stretching to plant a chaste peck on Harry’s cheek.

“And you look positively ravishing,” Harry winks, smug, lightly tugging at Ginny’s rumpled hair, highly pleased to notice the blush creeping up her neck, over the swollen patch of skin there.

“You’re lucky all this foreplay’s got me so hungry I could swallow a hippogriff,” she pouts sweetly and Harry feels his ears start to burn for, as far as he’s been told, the word ‘foreplay’ usually implies a following act - the actual play.

He changes balance from one foot to another to subtly arrange things in his trousers while Ginny quickly combs her fingers through her hair, smoothens the wrinkles in her clothes.

“Let’s get you fed, yeah?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

After minimal discussion, they mutually agree on the desirability of avoiding Ron’s disgust, Hermione’s reminders about OWLs, and overall the prying eyes of the Hogwarts student population. Luckily, Harry has some connections in the kitchens and Dobby is more than eager to provide a sampler of that evening’s dinner.

Even as Harry’s stomach fills with rich food, his entire being feels lighter than he can remember, his eyes tear with laughter and Ginny’s chuckles fill the cavernous room. Once they’ve thanked Dobby & co., accepted the packed snack for later on, and promised to return before the end of term, Harry and Ginny slip back out the fruit themed portrait.

Ginny leans into Harry’s chest while they wander clumsily toward Gryffindor Tower, unconcerned with whatever the fastest route might be. Like it’s meant to be there, Harry’s arm wraps around Ginny’s shoulders and he basks in her closeness.

It’s hardly been any time at all, in the grand scheme of his life, but Harry can’t seem to remember what filled his days before Ginny. The oddest part is he feels consumed by it, and yet she hasn’t completely taken over his life - simply slotted in and filled all the missing places he didn’t know existed.

Their steps slow at the moving staircases, which are currently hovering in a formation that doesn’t particularly facilitate use, and Ginny leans back to take in his expression. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Briefly, Harry wonders exactly how much of his flowery internal monologue Ginny really wants to hear, and then figures it’s easy enough to sum up. He shrugs, “I’m just. Happy.”

Her smile is brilliant as she presses it against his. “Me too.”

The second kiss is less chaste, a lingering thing. But on the third, Ginny licks into his mouth and he somehow has the presence of mind to guide them off into a shadowy corner. Ginny’s hands ruck up his hair from the roots, fingernails scratching at his scalp, while her quiet sighs send shivers up his spine.

“Gin,” Harry murmurs against her jaw, not really sure what he’ll say if she responds. Whatever thought skittered across his mind is long gone.

She holds him in place with one hand while her free fingers pop a couple of her buttons open, exposing fields of freckles swirling in patterns Harry would like to spend a week memorizing.

Just as she’s guiding his mouth back to hers, a darkening bruise blossoming still at her collar bone, a throat clears behind them in a recognizable pattern - identifying the interloper as the second worst person who could’ve happened upon them in their current state.

Harry pulls back and turns, grasping one of Ginny’s hands in his and keeping his body partially in front at least until she’s mostly buttoned up.

“Professor.”

McGonagall sniffs, unimpressed. “Potter. Weasley.”

He ruffles his hair, biting back a grimace when he notes this seems more and more likely a genetic trait by the day. “We were, uh - going to practice Quidditch.”

Ginny’s groan is his first clue that something’s not quite right - and is a bit disappointing since her latest groans, moans, and sighs have been for much more pleasant reasons. But he’s a bit slow on the uptake, so it takes McGonagall spelling out the issue for him to catch up. “Quidditch season is over, Potter. I suppose you might have forgotten, given your absence at the game.”

Shit. He’s going to be in detention until he’s forty.

Maybe he’ll get partnered with Ginny…

Professor McGonagall doesn’t mete out a punishment as quickly as usual and instead considers them for a moment in a way Harry does not find particularly comforting. After a pause she says, “You know, I am no stranger to the goings on of hormonal teenagers,” she pauses and Harry’s hands go clammy, “I used to interrupt both of your parents when they decided to…’practice Quidditch.’”

While Harry begins to feel his supper come back up, Ginny groans in disgust, “Professor, why would you say that?”

A ghost of a smile flickers at McGonagall’s pursed lips. “Whatever image you two have managed to dream up is likely worse than whatever I would do in detention.”

There’s a bit of mischief in her eyes as she shoos them towards the dorms, not that Harry thinks either of them could manage to drum up anything close to a mood for snogging at this point.

Still, all the way Ginny holds his hand and leans into his arm, like they’re meant to fit together and the creature in Harry’s chest purrs happily.

“You really are the worst liar ever, Roonil,” Ginny whispers teasingly before the Fat Lady swings.

_______

Ron’s increasing fake coughs and repeated scoffs finally irritate Harry just as much as they do Ginny. It is rather clear to Harry that he either slaps his best mate over the head or simply moves their - erm, physical activities elsewhere.

As a wise young man who values friendship and loves his friends, Harry chooses the second.

Thus he agrees to meet Ginny outside the portrait hole later that evening and find themselves a cosy place to spend a happy hour or two.

“Got your Map?” Ginny asks after he greets her with a short kiss.

Harry nods and adds, “Though we might not need to check it as often. Hermione’s promised to keep Ron busy till 11. So that gives us more or less two hours.” He finds it hard not to waggle his eyebrows or wink but manages to contain himself all the same.

“They’ve finally cracked and begun to snog, then?”

Harry shoots her an amused look. “I wish. Nah, Hermione’s got him on a strict revision schedule. Never too early to prepare for NEWTs, she says.”

Ginny laughs heartily and grips Harry’s hand, her lips pressing a kiss to his shoulder as they walk down the corridor. “I do pity him, you know.”

“I know. Me too, but it’s his own doing. Gotta be a man and come clean, ‘tell her what you’re feeling’ is my personal mantra.”

Ginny scoffs audibly.

“Oh, Harry. You make it too easy for me.”

They volley back and forth as they sneak around corridor after corridor, jumping steps, mindful of the moving staircases, eyes wide open for Prefects or Filch or Snape or all of them combined. They’re on a secret mission and time coupled with the utmost discretion are of the essence.

He’s surprised to notice Ginny’s tugged him inside the same classroom he’d been hiding in from the sickening fluff of Valentine’s Day. The same one where she found him feeling sorry for himself, sat down next to him and laid her beautiful head on his shoulder, made him feel better, cared for even.

Harry swallows hard, his heart swelling. She’d remembered.

“I thought we could spend some time here, if you want,” Ginny starts, a little shy, a little uncertain, her teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip.

Harry can’t find the words to express what he’s feeling so he decides it’s best he shows her.

Smiling, he lifts her chin slightly, enough to press his lips to hers, kissing her as he walks them both inside, stumbles to grip the door knob and close it behind them.

Ginny easily hops onto a nearby desk when she hits it with her back as they fumble their way inside, eyes closed through the ever increasing dark drenching the Castle, smudging the windows a thick black.

“Nox,” Harry murmurs and the room falls prey to nightfall.

He shuffles closer till his knees press into the hard wood of the desk, hips bracketed by Ginny’s thighs, and he discovers once again that kissing sans uniforms is something else entirely. No cumbersome robes in the way, no fumbling over meters of useless material to be able to feel that sweet closeness.

And that’s exactly what he feels when Ginny’s hands sneak inside his black shirt, nails lightly grazing at his skin as he dips them lower over the desk, palm resting at the back of her head to cushion its impact with the wood. He gasps when she continues to map his chest with the tips of her fingers, when she tickles her way to his back, grips at the muscles there. Her touch is like balm to the soreness he’d been feeling.

She pulls him over her, legs clasped around his middle, and Harry hisses audibly when their bodies meet. Her waking things up and her actually being able to feel said things waking up are two entirely different things in Harry’s mind and his first impulse is to panic and stumble away.

But Ginny drags him right back. They’ve had close to twenty days of daily practice and she’s used to his bouts of self-consciousness by now, knows how to tackle them. Harry can’t thank her enough for this.

Emboldened, Harry slants his lips across her neck, touch slipping over her chest before his mouth rests right in the middle, hands clumsily roaming at the hem of her blouse. He dares travel further when her thighs grip him harder, his front pressing into her so much, too much it hurts.

Harry privately forbids himself to let go. There won’t be any subtle, embarrassed shuffling into the showers tonight. Or not until much later, when he’s alone with his thoughts, at least.

He feels the underpart of her bra with one finger at first, then gradually brings the rest of his hand to it, slowly covering it, feeling the cotton beneath his fingertips. Ginny’s tongue slips into his mouth and his hand suddenly jolts to cup her breast sooner than he’d planned and he moans because it’s wonderful and different at the same time. He’s felt her over her robes before, light touches during their snogging sessions, and once even over her shirt. But this is exciting and different, her skin so warm and soft, oh god, it doesn’t even begin to compare.

Harry chances another squeeze, another fondle and instantly groans, ah, he’s about to combust.

Ginny’s hands are in his hair as he roams inside her bra, encouraged by her pants, her moans inside his mouth, the tight grip of her thighs, her nipples hard beneath his palms. His thumb circles one nipple, desperate to feel more, to discover more of her and Ginny calls his name.

“Harry, I -”

“Yes?” He pants, pressing into her over her clothes, drags his mouth to her jaw, behind her ear.

It takes a moment before his eyes adjust to the near darkness; he’d been squeezing them so tightly shut he’d barely realised they’ve been hooked on pure feeling, on the electrifying shocks discovering new patches of skin, new soft places to kiss and grip provided for them.

He raises his green eyes to her flushed face, her burning cheeks, the mortified look in her eyes he distinguishes through the raw black of the classroom and, oh - he understands.

“I’ll - erm,” Harry stumbles for his words and finally settles for silence. He slowly raises himself from her, focused on righting his clothes to give her a moment to recover.

When she looks more comfortable, when she’s not blushing as furiously, Harry smiles at her and gently lifts her chin to capture her lips, guessing their contour through the darkness. He may not have the right words, but he really, truly hopes she knows. Knows how he feels and how much she means to him and that he’d wait any amount of time for her. They don’t need to hurry anywhere.

He brings the back of her hand to his cheek, then to his lips before he helps her down and places a kiss at the top of her head, lingers there, high on her flowery scent.

Harry continues to hold her hand while they take their time returning to the Common Room, stealing kisses and muffling laughter on their way as the echoes of their footsteps reverberate along dark Castle halls.

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