#as she tries to adjust to this while maintaining her regular life

[daydreamerdrew]

The Savage She-Hulk (1980) #1

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXII.V (Eris Vanserra POV)

Summary: Eris Vanserra spends most of his evenings attending to important business, although he does occasionally believe he deserves a break.

Note: I had to include a small side story within this larger fic, and Eris is one of my favourites!!! This is a short Eris x OC (Cora) one-shot! Next update will be back to regular elucien chapters, so I hope you guys enjoy!!! SMALL WARNING, this will be a little spicy ;) A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :)

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Eris tilted his head, wolf like, as his ears caught the gentle sound of keys going into the lock of the room’s door. He frowned, not having heard any footsteps, but even in the dim lighting, he knew it was simply Cora returning to her chambers for the evening. 

Eris sat up from where he had been sprawled across her small bed, leaning his elbow on her pillows, setting down the sketchbook he had idly been flipping through until the Night Court female had returned. 

She was humming a musical tune softly to herself and Eris could not help but find it endearing, especially as she fumbled to strike a match, her eyes not having adjusted to the dark. 

“I forget,” Eris began, smiling involuntarily at her yelp of surprise, “that you can’t light the torches.” He willed the smallest bit of his own magic to do so, shadows falling across the room, highlighting the sharp planes of Cora’s lovely face as she scowled at him. 

Her glare could level mountains, Eris thought, nodding his chin at her in greeting. She crossed her arms, raised a brow in question. “Can’t go an entire day without me?” Her accent was thick with the rhythms of the Hewn City, the vowels short and the consonants striking. 

I can’t. 

Eris would have rather cut out his own tongue than admit such a thing to the wicked creature standing before him. He lifted a shoulder, “I usually get what I want.” 

“You’re spoiled,” she snapped, her ever present bite to the words were without an ounce of patience, although she did not ask him to leave and Eris fought to maintain the uncaring expression on his features. 

“You were with Elain.” He knew that his brother’s mate was worried about the quickly approaching equinox, and while Eris had ensured she remained safe, he was hardly going to concern himself with the disastrous predicament she had gotten herself into when she had told his father that she and Lucien were to be married. 

Eris had been confident that Cora’s response would have been a resounding yes, but she shook her head at him. “I was with your mother,” she corrected. “I was helping her with the floral arrangements for the wedding.” 

Eris could not help but frown. “And she needed you for that?” He would have preferred the Lady of Autumn to stay away from Cora. For selfish reasons, since his mother could be meddlesome, and because he did not entirely trust Elain’s friend. 

Cora locked the door behind her, not looking at him as she placed the keys onto the mantle of the fireplace. “I think she must be lonely.” There was an edge of understanding in the tone she used that suggested perhaps she was familiar with the feeling. 

Probably, but Eris would never admit that the loneliness could be a noose for everyone within his family, its hold tightening around the necks of the Autumn Court as time passed and there was no shift in power. 

Without Lethe and Kai — without Callum — Eris might have been lonely, too. His frown deepened and he tried to shake the thought from his mind, he and his mother were not on the best of terms, not since Lucien had been born, but his chest ached when he considered the isolated life the High Lord’s wife led. 

Eris was not going to spend the rest of his evening talking about his mother to a female he barely knew, so he began to idly stroke the edge of the sketchbook. He flipped between the pages, the paper rough. He hummed in response, to let Cora decide if he was agreeing with her observation or not, and tossed her sketchbook onto the nightstand. He focused on the way she began to take the braid out of her hair, followed the column of her neck with his eyes, the flames of the fireplace making her skin seem smooth as stone. 

“Your drawings are nice,” Eris offered into the silence. Cora had sketched the forest, the library, his hounds — even his bedroom — near perfectly. “You would have made a better artist than a lady’s maid.” She snorted in response, scrunching her nose at his words. “Have you considered switching professions?” He meant it sincerely. From what he had seen, she was quite dreadful at her job, to the point where Eris truly believed she was Elain Archeron’s personal guard. 

Cora was certainly blood thirsty enough for it, a fact Eris quite liked about her. She had her secrets, he was sure, everyone did. He tugged at the little golden hoop on his earlobe as he waited for her to answer.

Cora combed gentle fingers through her hair, considering his question seriously. She frowned in thought, and Eris took a moment to admire the way her full lips turned down into a pout. “I could never be an artist.” 

“Why not?” He might have been more curious if she had not decided to lift her skirts, flashing the skin of her ankle while she slipped off her shoes. It was his attempt at learning more about her, allowing her the chance to speak, since she shared nothing without a bit of prompting. 

You talk so much, and yet you say so little.

Eris had huffed a laugh at her remark, the only thing she had snarled at him as he had escorted her to Elain on their first day in the Autumn Court. He had found Cora startling, when most things at his age were simply to be expected. 

Eris had since learned that he was a raging forest fire in her presence, and she seemed to be the wind breathing more life into the flames. He could hardly look away from her when she was near, his eyes falling onto her when she entered any room. 

He had been half hard at the thought of her lips, at the promise of her kisses, before he had even opened the door to the small space he was now in.

Eris watched as Cora raised her shoulders in a shrug, as she made her way with elegant steps across the carpeted floors and towards the bed. His breath caught in his throat as she sat on the edge of the mattress, he could hear her steady pulse in his ears. 

“They wouldn’t let you, in the Hewn City?” He said softly, remembering she had been responding to another one of his questions with her shrug. 

Cora placed her hand so close to where his rested on the blankets, and he silently urged her to reach out, to let her fingers inch forward ever so slightly. She did not, choosing instead to blow a strand of her dark hair away from her eyes. 

Cora shook her head, “They have more need of musicians.” 

Eris’s mind turned to the solstice balls he had attended in the Night Court, the lilting music that everyone danced to as the evening went on. “So you don’t play an instrument,” he concluded. 

To his surprise, she laughed, the sound echoing in his skull. 

Lovely. 

“I’m very old,” she moved towards him suddenly, their noses nearly touching as she got onto her knees. “I play three.” 

Eris breathed in deeply, the scent of spruce trees and mountain air lingered and he felt drunk, his thoughts slow. “Very impressive,” he murmured, falling onto his back as Cora crawled towards him, her intentions clear. She placed a hand on his shoulder, using him for balance, one leg going over his waist so that she could straddle his lap.

Cora hovered above him, and while Eris had been expecting a kiss, he froze as she raised a hand towards his upturned face. She let scar-flecked fingers trail along the sharp line of his cheekbone, her thumb stopping on his lips. 

They stayed like that for a moment, before Eris broke the heavy silence. “Kiss me,” he ordered, but even to his own ears the words were breathless, the illusion of control. Cora ignored him, choosing to instead unlace the strings at his throat. She traced his jaw gently, and he stilled as she reached for his neck.

“Getting into fights?” She murmured and Eris winced. He had forgotten about the bruises, about the punches thrown between himself and Ronan moments before he had gone looking for her. 

It would have been too much to explain that he and Ronan always argued about the war camps now settled further into Spring’s territory, especially since Cora’s loyalties laid with the High Lord and Lady of Night. 

Eris decided not to answer, pulling her down so that he could nip at the skin between her neck and shoulder. His hand grappled for purchase in the fabric of her skirts, pulling them up so they could pool closer to her knees. He let his palm travel up the smooth curve of her calf, kissed her neck as he brushed his canines against her pulse. Eris paused at the knife strapped to the inside of her thigh, pulling away to raise an auburn brow at her. 

Cora blushed, her brown cheeks darkening a shade at the desire she must have spotted in his amber eyes. “For later,” she said, a mischievous smile gracing her stunning features. He felt himself further harden at the thought, pants straining as he wondered how she might put her blade to use. He would let her draw blood if she wished.

“Planning my murder?” Eris asked as Cora made herself comfortable, knees on either side of him. She pulled up her skirts further and his eyes tracked the movement, his hands followed along, touching every inch of skin she revealed. She was teasing, fully aware of the effect she had on him. 

Cora hummed, the sound making him shiver. “I do love treason.” 

Eris breathed a small laugh, a dreadful mistake on his part. The scent of her arousal lingered around them and he found himself growing tired of her games. He needed to taste her, had been thinking about it all day. 

Tightening his grip on the back of her thighs, Eris pulled Cora forward, perhaps more roughly than he intended. 

She threw out her hands, catching herself on the headboard, looking down at him with disdain. He had forgotten for a moment how small she was. Her dark hair fell around them, it was long, so long, as though she had not cut it in centuries. “Was that necessary?” 

Eris grinned up at her from his place splayed out along her pillows. “Sit.” 

Cora glared at him, as though she simply would have left him there, to annoy him as much as to prove that her will was stronger than his own. 

If it had been anyone else, Eris might have gotten up and left, to make a point that he did as he pleased and the faeries he dragged to his bed were merely a nice little distraction. 

He was, after all, a prince. 

Instead, he ran his hands up her thighs, feather light, before he repeated himself. “Sit.” 

And Cora did. 

Eris was used to the males and females of Autumn, vicious in court but shy when it came to their own pleasure. He knew it was because they were afraid, wisely so considering the reputation Eris had built for himself. He would thoroughly seduce them, bring them back to his chambers, and watch as they trembled, unsure, hands at their sides. 

It had been fun at first, but Eris was dreadfully bored, and Cora was interesting. She knew exactly what to do with her hands, dragging curses and moans from Eris’s lips with nothing but a simple twist of her wrist. She was also absolutely gorgeous, her dark eyes haunting him so he could not have a moment’s peace. 

He breathed in deeply, leaving a trail of kisses up the inside of her thigh. The dagger was still there, the metal cool against his cheek, and he licked just above the hilt with a long swipe of his tongue.

When his mouth brushed over the spot he knew would bring her the most pleasure, he paused, waiting for her permission. She shifted impatiently above him, and although she could not see him through the curtain of her skirts, Eris smiled. 

He pressed the flat of his tongue against her, and he felt as her nails scratched at the skin of his scalp, as her fingers tangled into the auburn strands of his hair and she kept him in place. Eris decided he would have gladly spent the rest of his life between her thighs, he groaned at the taste, pressed her more fully to his mouth, tongue moving. 

The one hand keeping her balanced, Eris spread her thighs further apart, inviting her to move if it would please her. His booted feet drew restlessly against the fur blankets, he wanted her to come on his mouth. 

He wanted her. 

Eris knew Cora was close as she clenched her thighs around him. He kept his hands on her, felt her muscles tense and he made a soft sound as she pulled away entirely. 

There were skirts in his mouth, he realised, just as Cora’s knee roughly knocked into the side of his head, a short burst of pain shooting into his temple. She kicked him in the gut in her effort to move away and Eris grunted at the contact of her foot against him. 

“The torches,” she breathed, her voice a whispered hiss. 

Eris barely understood what she was saying, his mind a mess, desire making it hard for him to think straight. She was adjusting her skirts, fixing her sleeves.  

“What about them?” Eris asked, eyes tracking her movements as he sat up. He licked his lips, fighting the urge to moan as he tasted her on his tongue. 

“They did something strange,” she was content to ignore the burning gaze he cast on her, looking instead towards the doors and paying attention to the flames flickering rather normally on the other side of the small room. 

“The fire reacts to me,” he said, a snarl entering his tone as he placed a broad hand on her small waist and pulled her towards him. His chest was rising and falling like he had been drowning and was drawing his first breath of air. “It reacts to me, reacting to you.” 

She rolled her eyes, as though she did not believe a single word he said. She ran a cool finger under the fabric of his collar. “I worry someone might see us.” 

“Don’t,” Eris mumbled as she deliberately began to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. She did so expertly, dragging it from his shoulders where it fell onto the mattress in a careless heap. 

Through the lighter fabric of his shirt, Eris felt as Cora’s hand lingered on his back. Her nails caught on the raised skin there. 

Lashes. 

He had whispered the word to Cora when she had paused at the feel of them the first night he had gotten her into his bed. She had pulled away just enough to hold his gaze, had searched his face for answers but was met with the expressionless mask he had long ago mastered. 

Punishments.

Cora had correctly guessed, he had witnessed the shift in her demeanour at the realisation, although she had said nothing. The lovers he took were usually Autumn born and raised, were usually well aware of the way the High Lord treated each of his sons. Still, Eris had felt as though Cora had become a bit more gentle, that she had held him like he was a piece of glass, easily breakable. 

“Eris,” she said softly, pulling him from his thoughts as she placed a kiss just below his jaw only to tug the shirt from where he had carefully tucked it. Her fingers traced the muscles of his stomach as he cupped the back of her head to keep her close. When she reached the laces at his pants, undoing them swiftly, he felt his lips part as she touched him. 

He wished she would say his name again, but he did not complain as she kissed him deeply, their tongues fighting for dominance as she wrapped delicate fingers around his length. His hands once again went under her skirts, fingers searching when he heard his best friend’s voice in the corridor. 

“Lady Elain Archeron,” Lethe said loudly, the name echoing with a hint of magic. It was his request for her to keep watch, but Eris instantly regretted it. 

Cora pushed herself away from him once more and Eris snarled his annoyance, wishing his little brother’s mate had retired for the evening. 

“I told you the torches had done something strange,” Cora accused, tossing his waistcoat for him to catch. She stumbled on the edge of the carpet as she rushed to put on her shoes, cursing him under her breath.

Eris ran fingers through his hair to ensure that no strand was out of place, adjusting his clothes to perfection and using his magic to scatter the scent of their still burning arousal. 

“Find me when she leaves,” Eris offered, hoping Cora would join him later. He would have hated to use his hand to find pleasure after their encounter. He unlocked the door, pausing with his fingers gripping the handle. Cora shuffled behind him, skirts ruffling, and he waited with bated breath for her response. 

Cora walked towards him quickly, each action rushed so she could throw him out of her room before Elain arrived to knock on the door. She reached out, no hesitation in the gesture as she grabbed onto his arm. Eris watched as she got onto the very tips of her toes, following her lead when she pulled down on his sleeve. He had to bend at the waist, practically bowing for her, so that she could place the softest of kisses onto his cheek. “I make no promises,” she murmured, letting her fingers trail down towards his wrist, her thumb stroking the skin there absently before she moved away from him with a playful shove in the direction of the hallway. 

Eris felt his entire face heat, and he bit the inside of his lip, frustrated with his uncommon lack of self control. He hoped Cora could not see the scarlet blush he was sure would reveal his slight attachment to her. 

Eris could hardly remember the last time someone had been so gentle with him, could hardly remember needing anyone’s affection. He said nothing, was unable to face her, so he merely schooled his features into a serious mask. 

Eris opened the oak door roughly and stepped past the stone archway, mind whirling with thoughts of Cora, only to crash bodily into Elain Archeron.

[malfoyheartsgranger]

You Just Go on Living

Summary: In which Draco Malfoy destroys himself to protect his lover.

A/N: I wrote this between 2 and 4 AM, so it’s a little shitty but I’ve had this little idea for a while and finally got around to writing it so I’m just going to post it, oops. I also did not proofread in the slightest... It’s gonna be a long one, and there will probably be a good bit of backstory also, so sorry if that’s not your thing, but I hope you enjoy the heartbreak!

(PS please ignore the inconsistencies with time travel info and the butterfly effect and whatnot in this fic because quite honestly I didn’t know how else to go about it. You’ll see what I mean!!)

Warnings: mentions of death

Word Count: 4.3k

. . .

Draco Malfoy knew what he had to do.

He had known since four nights ago when Voldemort made an appearance in his own living room. Draco Malfoy, surrounded on one side by laughing Death Eaters and on the other by the grim faces of his parents, watched as his own professor was murdered, while another one watched.

Severus Snape was Draco’s godfather, and this title came with certain duties, even above those of the Dark Lord, one of which being to protect Draco. Draco was unaware of this fact, but Snape had sworn to protect him at all costs, and while it seemed that the vow would have been fulfilled after Dumbledore’s death, Severus Snape still felt a sort of honor in protecting his godson. And, as much as he despised the notion, this meant protecting his heart as well.

And so after Voldemort’s theatrics at Malfoy Manor, Snape pulled Draco aside and told him the most heartbreaking news he would likely ever hear.

“The Dark Lord,” Snape drawled. “He knows of Y/N.”

Draco Malfoy’s solemn face instantly rose to look Snape in the eye, a sudden urgency to his actions.

“What?” he questioned, standing from his chair in the corner of the drawing room to be eye level with Snape. “What does he know about her?”

Snape bowed his head in some manner of helplessness, yet stayed silent as Draco turned on his heel to approach the fireplace. He rested his arm on the ledge above it for a moment before spitting out his words once again, although this time with much more aggression.

“What does he know about her? What does he know about Y/N?”

“Draco,” Snape began, but his usual slow tone was not a quick enough source of information for the desperate Malfoy boy.

Rather than repeat his question to the stone wall he faced, he spun around to face Snape. The look on his face was all the motivation the professor needed to prioritize his answer. He may not particularly like the boy, and he certainly did not like Y/N, but he understood what it was to have the Dark Lord find one’s weakness.

“He knows,” Snape said gravely, “of your relations with her.”

Draco ran his hands across his face and through his cropped hair in angst. “So you’re saying . . .”

“Yes, my boy,” Snape confirmed, knowing exactly what Draco would have to say, “he knows of your love for her.”

Draco collapsed back into his chair as Snape merely watched. He did not expect comfort, and he thought it would be rather strange if he were to receive it. And so Draco, alone, remembered last year’s looming threat of Voldemort harming his parents if he did not do as he was told. He had thought that in itself cruel, although this was not unusual for a creature as horrid as Voldemort, but he recalled being relieved beyond measure that the Dark Lord knew nothing of his relationship with Y/N Y/L/N. He had not known what he would do if she was used as a pawn, a motivational sacrifice.

But now he knew. He knew, and Draco did not know how, but he did. And Draco thought it odd that Voldemort had not yet flaunted that to him, or to anyone, but Snape knew. Logic told Draco that of course Snape knew; he was one of Voldemort’s most trusted allies, but his grief convinced him otherwise.

Draco’s hands paused in his hair and came to lay on his thighs, just close enough to the trouser pocket that contained his wand. He leaned forward from resting on the back of the wooden chair he sat in, and in a collected tone, asked Snape, “How does he know this?”

Hesitant, Snape replied, “I am not sure. Although, you and I both know he has countless sources of information, and—”

His voice suddenly louder and sharper, Draco said, “How do you not know? Surely he would have told you this also?”

It was at this point that Snape realized Draco’s thoughts, and he reached to quell them before they could truly take root. “I assure you—”

But Draco was too quick, and before Snape could let any more words from his mouth, Draco was out of his chair, grabbing Snape’s cloak in one fist and gripping his wand in the other. He held the tip of his wand to Snape’s cheek, and for a man who was usually so composed, Snape seemed almost . . . afraid. However, he had the right, for he had never seen his godson in such a state.

“What did you tell him?” Draco whispered, his face incredibly close to Snape’s, close enough that the professor could smell the scent of shampoo wafting from his hair and the tingle of mint on his breath. He cringed.

“I told him nothing,” Snape repeated. As Draco breathed heavily into his face, Snape moved excruciatingly slowly to pull his own wand from his robes. Upon success, he pushed the tip of it into the side of Draco’s torso, and when Draco felt the pressure, he immediately backed up.

Both of their wands raised, the two men stared at each other, one defensive, one anguished, each in dangerous states. Snape’s paranoid reaction to his words convinced Draco’s inconsolable mind even further of his guilt. And so he yelled this time, “What did you tell him?”

And he shot a curse at his own godfather. Snape merely blocked the spell and begged Draco to calm himself, but before the boy could even send another curse toward him, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy rushed into the room, both concerned with the noise. Voldemort had left, and along with him any commotion, so the Manor had been silent, until the sound of Draco’s shattered voice rang through the halls. Upon seeing her son and old friend seemingly preparing to duel, Narcissa Malfoy approached Draco, and he finally noticed her.

“Mother, go,” he urged her, not wavering in his hostility toward Snape, though softening his voice a bit for his mother. Narcissa saw her son’s hands shake a bit as he aimed his wand at Snape, but he never shot another curse. Something in him broke a bit when his mother entered the room, and perhaps it was because of her lack of hesitation in approaching him despite his clearly unsteady state. Lucius did nothing, though Draco would admit his presence alone intimidated him out of trying to harm Snape further.

In a moment of weakness, or perhaps strength, Draco stalked from the room and into the gardens, and it was in the following moments of solitude that he realized what his next step had to be: what he had to do to protect Y/N.

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N’s reaction upon seeing her boyfriend was always hearty. This was mostly due to her cheerful demeanor, and that it always took her a moment to read Draco’s own mood and subsequently shift hers to fit it.

And so when Draco Apparated to her home just days before the start of their last year at Hogwarts, she needed time to adjust to his obvious devastation.

She heard a pop outside her bedroom window some time in the early afternoon, and when she looked outside, she was delighted to see a head of blonde hair headed for her backyard. That was her and Draco’s spot when she was home, and he knew that she always heard him arrive and did not need to announce himself.

Y/N threw on a sweater to brave the crisp air outside and rushed down the stairs to meet Draco. She swung open the door in the kitchen that led to her grassy backyard and nearly shouted a greeting to her boyfriend, but she noticed that he was sitting, slouched, on the brick wall around her mother’s garden, and his head was hanging low, so she sobered her presence.

Not realizing the severity of his state, Y/N still maintained a certain level of joy in his appearance. She walked around the dirt patch of fruits, vegetables, and regular flowers, and stood in front of Draco. She furrowed her eyebrows a bit and teased, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

When Draco did not answer and continued to stare at the grass beneath his dress shoes, Y/N sighed and took a seat next to him. She knew life had been terrible to him recently, especially after last year. She had been the one to convince him he was better than Voldemort’s plans, and so Draco had not harmed anyone. He had tried desperately to destroy the Vanishing Cabinet, but to no avail, and Y/N did her best to pull him through the guilt that wracked him every day because of it. It had been unbelievably difficult to forgive him for what happened because of his actions, but she had already fought so hard to convince him that he could survive Voldemort’s threats, and it seemed she was the only one who could do so. If for no one else, Y/N stayed with Draco Malfoy because he needed her, and because he would destroy himself without her.

And consequently, it was Draco Malfoy’s most menacing fear, that Voldemort would come to realize his love for Y/N. And now he had, and Draco had tried to find any solution but the one he could come to to deal with this fact. But every plan had a roadblock, most of them being that Y/N would wind up hurt, and after all she had sacrificed for him, Draco could not allow that.

“We need to go somewhere else,” Draco whispered, and his tone immediately filled Y/N with dread.

Yet, she quickly responded, “Anywhere,” and without another word, Draco took her hand and Apparated them away.

After the initial shock of the Apparition, Y/N adjusted to her surroundings to find that Draco had already begun walking away. They were on a shore of some sort, although Y/N had no idea where, and Draco was walking along the sand, away from her, under a grey sky.

“Draco!” she shouted, but he did not turn around, and she assumed the crashing of the waves was disturbing his hearing. However, she chased after him, tripping through the sifting sand, and he still did not respond to her repeated shout despite her new proximity. He did not seem to be heading toward anything in particular, and as Y/N looked around even further, she could not find anything that he even could be aiming for.

So caught up in her own thoughts and determination in reaching her horribly despondent Draco, Y/N did not even realize that he had suddenly stopped walking and was staring at the sea. So when she took a break from watching her own feet to ensure their stability and was met with a prompt crash into somebody else, she gasped. Without a word, Draco gripped the top of her arm to stop her from tumbling over, and she couldn’t say she wasn’t grateful, but she was also infuriated.

“Draco Malfoy,” she scolded. “You Apparate us to the middle of nowhere, with no warning, and then leave me practically stranded down the shoreline? Merlin, I hardly had time to figure out where I was before I had to start chasing you down—”

Draco spoke. “Y/N. Please.”

Just the tone of his voice was enough to silence her, for despite her frustration, she would always listen to Draco.

She softened immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Draco, without granting her even a quick glance, continued to stare at the waves, and the shores upon which they crashed. “I’d like to think that I’m out there in some other life.”

Y/N said nothing.

“That maybe I’m a wave in the ocean, and you’re the sand.” He paused. Shook his head. “No. Then again, perhaps it’s the other way around. Yes, you’ve always been the ocean, so I suppose I’m the grain of sand.”

“Maybe we could both be waves,” Y/N suggested, not quite sure where Draco was going with this, but knowing it would lead to him defaming himself in order to raise her up. “Maybe we’re small waves that meet and make something big.”

Draco scoffed. “You’ve always thought too highly of me,” he mumbled. “You think the best of people like me.”

“Of course I do,” she protested. “You’ve given me no reason not to. Even when you thought you were irredeemable, you proved yourself wrong.”

“No,” Draco interrupted. “I’ve proven myself right this time.”

Confused, and a bit shaken, Y/N whispered, “Draco, you’re scaring me. What’s happened?”

A beat of silence.

A wave’s thunder.

A recession of water.

A lifetime of uncertainty.

“He knows, Y/N,” Draco finally said. “He knows.”

The grim look on Draco’s face was all Y/N needed in order to know that he was speaking of Voldemort. No one else, not even his father, could instill such simultaneous fear and disgust in the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Their peers dubbed him a coward for joining Voldemort’s side, but Y/N knew the truth: knew that he had no intention of ever again following through with one of his dark plans. She knew that he was incredibly afraid of what his role entailed, but that he faced it in order to protect those he loved. He was called a coward, but Y/N thought Draco Malfoy was the bravest person she had ever met.

And for someone so brave to look so grave in this moment, in her presence: the place he usually felt most at peace . . . Well, it was disturbing. And there could be nothing else but her safety that would have Draco so troubled, so after a moment, Y/N understood what he meant. On the surface, this seemed to be an unconcerning issue. After all, so what if Voldemort knew that Draco had a girlfriend? Her blood status was not an issue. She was a half-blood, after all. But when she went to voice this, she remembered how Draco had been threatened with his family’s safety last year. How Voldemort swore that if he did not complete the task at hand, his parents would be killed. How if he found out Draco loved someone else, he would approach his threats with the same mercilessness.

As soon as the realization struck her, Y/N shifted her thinking to formulating a plan. “I’ll hide,” she suggested. “I’ll go somewhere he can’t find me. I’m not sure if the safest place would be Hogwarts, that might be too obvious.”

“Y/N,” Draco spoke, although she did not hear.

“My parents,” she continued frantically. “I’ll have to tell them or - or send them away, I don’t—”

And this time, when Draco repeated her name, with more urgency in his voice than she had ever heard, Y/N noticed. After the initial aggression with which he spoke her name, Draco’s voice softened. “Nowhere will be safe enough. He’ll find you. No matter what.”

Her body went cold.

Draco was a man of extremes. A man of loyalty and ferocity and an innate desperation to protect those he cared for, no matter what the cost. He had proven so before. There was no doubt in Y/N’s mind that he would do anything to keep her safe, even if that meant breaking her heart, along with his own.

“No,” Y/N protested, sure she knew what Draco was thinking. After all, how many times had she been able to finish his sentences for him? How many times had she read his mind before he even formulated a thought in his own consciousness? How many times had she known what he would do, how he would act before he knew so himself? “We’re not breaking up. I’m not letting you go through this by yourself Draco, we’ve seen how—”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Draco said solemnly. It had been what felt like a lifetime since he looked at her, since he touched her.

But Y/N was too relieved at his words to comprehend the stern tone with which he spoke them. She released an alleviating sigh, thanking the universe that Draco had not gone to extremes this time, that maybe he would let her help him and they would confront this together.

“But we can’t be together either,” he continued after a moment. Y/N’s shot from the sky above her to the boy who stood stoic next to her. She tilted her head in confusion and opened her mouth to voice her bewilderment, but before she could let out more than a syllable, Draco clarified. “It’s not enough to part ways, Y/N. I’ll still love you, and he’ll still know that. I can’t care for you at all.”

This time, although still perplexed, Y/N did not move to speak. Rather, she allowed Draco to think aloud.

“A memory charm won’t be enough either, not even on the both of us. I’ve heard lovers can still feel a connection between themselves after their memories are taken. And I can’t think of any other solution . . .”

When he did not continue, Y/N whispered, “What does this mean?”

“It means I need to make a reality where I never fell in love with you.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at the sea. “If I even considered entertaining this idea, how in the hell would you go about that? We’re wizards, Draco, but even we can’t change the past to that extreme. There’s no way to—”

She stopped speaking, stopped the flailing of her arms, stopped breathing, when Draco Malfoy pulled a Time-Turner from his pocket. Even without knowledge of how Draco planned to use it, Y/N would have been shocked at his possession of one. Time-Turners were extremely rare, likely due to the peril they risked, and the last she had heard of someone owning one was Albus Dumbledore himself.

“How did you—”

“My father stole it,” Draco filled in the gaps. “I know it’s not an honorable way to come into possession of one, but I plan to use it nobly.” He turned to look at her, finally, for what seemed like the first time in years. He met her eyes for a split second, then shifted them to the charm that lay in his open palm. He grasped it shut. “Point is, Y/N, I have it, and I intend to use it to protect you. I’ll go back to before we met, I’ll prevent it, I swear.”

“Draco, you can’t just make this decision,” Y/N professed angrily. “I know I’m in danger, but I never thought loving you would be completely safe. I mean, come on, you’re Draco Malfoy. Even without You-Know-Who, your friends serve a mighty threat.”

“This isn’t a joke, Y/N.”

“I know it’s not, Draco. But this is my life too.”

When he looked up, Y/N thought he would meet her eyes, but they instead drifted over her face and to the clouds above them. He threw his hands in the air in frustration, still clasping the Time-Turner with all his might. “And that’s exactly why I need to do this! I can’t be the reason you lose it! I need to make this world so that I never put you in danger by falling in love with you.”

Y/N was not one to back down from a fight, but even she knew there was nothing to be done to change Draco’s mind. The only thing that had ever been greater than Draco’s love for her was his fear of Voldemort, and in this moment, his two phobias were colliding. And that meant there would be no steering his proposed course of action.

So rather than continue to fight him, although she desperately longed to, Y/N sat in the sand and motioned for her forlorn lover to join. He appeared hesitant, but the fact that Y/N was no longer protesting him convinced him to lower to the ground. Y/N had always been the only one able to drag him out of his conservative shell. As unproblematic an action as it seemed, Draco Malfoy would not be caught dead sitting in damp sand in the presence of anyone but his Y/N. Something about her made him forget about the trivial issues of everyday life. Sometimes she cleared his mind completely, but it was much too cloudy today for him to hope for such an outcome.

As soon as he was seated next to her, Y/N rested her head on his shoulder.

“I know there’s no way I could change your mind, but is there a chance I could convince you to wait a bit?” She looked up at him, his blue eyes, his light hair, his perfect face. “To give us some time just to be here?”

She felt his chest move with a deep breath, and she saw his head dip with a wordless nod.

And so Draco Malfoy and Y/N Y/L/N sat on an unknown, unnamed shore, exchanging stories of their time together, of the highs and lows, the laughs and tears, for what they both knew to be a long time, but what felt like none at all.

They recounted their night at the Yule Ball, and Y/N told him it was the first time she had ever seen him truly carefree. He told her he used to despise her for supporting Harry Potter, and she laughed knowingly, assuring him she already knew, but glad that he had learned to agree with her views (although only tolerate the boy). She remembered how jealous she had been when Pansy Parkinson was his Potions partner but how relieved she felt when he admitted he smelt her in his Amortentia.

And when the words were no longer enough, Draco and Y/N sat in silence, with only the crashing waves as ambience, and they watched the sun set an ocean away from their problems. Tears fell from both lovers’ eyes, especially when Y/N sat back and placed her hand on Draco’s cheek.

“You know I don’t want this,” she whispered. “But I know that you’re going to do it either way. Because that’s just who you are. You’ll do anything to protect those you love. But Draco Malfoy, before you do, I need you to know,” she paused, blinking harsh tears from her stinging eyes and trying to ignore those forming in Draco’s own, “that there is no reality in the universe in which I do not love you. I will love you in any and every world that allows us to meet.”

Draco tugged his lips into his mouth and closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them again, the pooling tears escaped. “And I you. Always.”

Without another word, Y/N pulled Draco’s face to her own and met his lips softer than ever before. They were both shivering at this point, but as soon as their lips connected, their bodies warmed. Draco tugged Y/N into him with a hand behind her neck, and deepened their kiss just enough to communicate his love, his yearning for another lifetime of such kisses. The kiss broke with Y/N’s shuddering breath, and she rested her forehead against Draco’s, her hand still holding his face. She felt wetness pooling at the tops of her fingers, and she swiped across Draco’s face with her thumb, all the while her eyes closed.

“You know I only wish to keep you safe,” Draco sighed. “I would not do this if I did not truly believe it to be the only way.”

Y/N nodded, and sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of a tick.

She opened her eyes to see Draco’s hands around the Time-Turner under their faces and quickly looked up at him. For a moment it seemed he would not meet her gaze, and Y/N panicked, thinking she would be forced to abandon this world looking into something other than her lover’s eyes.

But then Draco looked up, and in his mind, he wavered. He could not leave her. How could he possibly think he would be okay without her?

But if they stayed, he would eventually be without her when Voldemort reached her, and that would hurt infinitely more.

Another twist of the Time-Turner.

Countless more.

“Wait.”

Draco’s hands stilled.

“What do I do?” Y/N spoke. “The me in this reality? What does this me do without you?”

Draco shook his head slightly, almost in pain, but before he resumed his motions, he offered, “You just go on living, I suppose.”

One last turn. A twist in time. A seal of fate.

. . .

It is snowing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

A young girl is walking to class with her peers, smiling wondrously at the frenzy of snowflakes. A blond boy walks the same path with his own companions. He races ahead of the two boys with him and crafts a snowball out of fallen snow in his gloved hands.

In another, much more fortunate reality, the same events conspire. However, in this universe, when the boy throws the pack of snow, it hits Harry Potter, his intended target, rather than the back of the beautiful girl’s head. So she hurries her pace upon predicting a brawl and ducks into the castle, already on the way to her next lesson. The boy smirks at his friends and mocks Harry Potter’s misfortune. In this universe, Y/N Y/L/N and Draco Malfoy never meet.

And so, years later, when Draco Malfoy’s heart breaks, it is not because he lived to regret falling for Y/N Y/L/N, but rather because he never got the chance.

. . .

my stories

[ackerfics]

Hiiii is it okay to request something? I just really love your fics 🥺 I saw that you did song fics, so I was thinking Still Into You by Paramore mixed with Thinking of You by Katy Perry since I legit couldn’t get those out of my head. Also I’m having Mikasa brainrot rn, so maybe a fic about exes getting back together? Where reader is like already in a new relationship with Historia, but they still love Mikasa, and the pining is mutual. Thank you so much 🥺

we sang along to the start of forever  — mikasa ackerman

— mikasa ackerman x female reader (modern au)

— warnings: angst but it transitioned into fluff in the end so we’re fine :)))

— summary: you still love each other and like puzzle pieces, the two of you thought about trying out the relationship thing again.

— word count: 4.8k

— author’s notes: i’m so sorry this took so long, we have so many backlogs  but i thought that writing would be a great thing to unwind so here it is !! i also made the reader a girl because as soon i started writing, mikasa with a girlfriend just keeps popping in my brain and i can’t help it sjjkjksjs and thank you so much for requesting !!

reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

< you said move on, where do i go

“Hey, there you are.”

A melodic whisper got you out of your daze from looking at your laptop screen. Exams are around the corner and your professors thought that it was the perfect time to dump more work for you. Tomorrow, you have a deadline coming up for a 2k-word essay about a topic that you could care less about, it wasn’t even under your major. Yet here you are, in one of the study areas of your university, trying to squeeze your brain just so you could reach the word count without caring for the outcome of your essay. But it seems like the gods graced your prayers because a small figure with golden blonde hair appeared in front of you, her blue eyes shining under the lights of the study area.

You started dating Historia Reiss not too long ago, it was probably ranging for three months at most. It was quite rocky at first, with you being out of a long-term relationship and Historia balancing out her time between extracurriculars and academics. The long-term relationship that got you all wound up was with a close friend back in high school and it sucked because you were such a good pair together — maybe fate wasn’t by your side that time. The two of you were immature and young but your time together was golden, having known each other way before asking one another out. You promised each other you’d move on and clearly, you did, your eyes finding your current girlfriend sitting in the neighboring study desk, taking out her stationery and color-coordinated notes.

Historia was a sweet person, always patient and caring when it comes to you. You met during a lecture that you two happened to share. She forgot her Apple pencil and luckily, you still had yours in your bag, lending the gadget to the blonde since you already have your laptop perched in front of you. With small smiles, the two of you gradually became friends, sitting next to each other during that lecture. Those small moments grew and later became study meet-ups in cafés or hanging out in one of the university’s libraries. The best thing that connected you two was your personalities, it matched so well that people sometimes thought you knew each other way longer before college. When you noticed Historia showing some signs that she likes you more than a friend, you couldn’t quite believe it at first. It was Historia being so understanding of you that made you say yes to her dates.

And now, here you are.

“Yup, you found me,” you told her, stretching your arms above your head before smiling at your girlfriend.

“Is that essay for Mr. Smith’s class?” Historia asked, leaning over to your side to get a glimpse of your screen. She patted your shoulder at the number of words you wrote. “Wow, you already got past the 1k mark. That’s amazing! Don’t forget to take breaks, though.”

“Of course, Tori,” you smiled. “You, too. I know your exams start four days from now. How is that holding up?”

Historia opened her readings, sighing at the thought of the dreaded season of the student body. “I don’t know if I can answer anything that well. I mean, we’ve been having study dates every day but I get so nervous just thinking about the exams. I know I’m going to be prepared but my anxiety said ‘no’.” She buried her hands through her hair, eyes softening when your face started showing how worried you are for her. “I’ll just think that this will be over a week from now.” Historia reached a hand out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Hey, why don’t we go to that restaurant just outside of uni for dinner?”

You took her hand in yours, squeezing it affectionately. “I think that’s perfect.”

The two of you proceeded to work on your separate tasks until you both agreed that it’s time for a good dinner. Historia helped you tidy your things up, occasionally smiling softly at you when you yawn. You bid goodbye to some of the students in the study area you know and the two of you went out of the room with joined hands. It was a nice walk around the university, the golden glow of the Sun bathing everything in orange, and making you relax despite the many backlogs still on your to-do list. That was until you saw a familiar figure going out of one of the many buildings of the Business Department. The blonde beside you even recognized the young woman hiding her face behind her scarf, blue eyes darting to you with a worried air.

It also happened that Mikasa Ackerman looked up from adjusting her scarf, her stormy gray eyes meeting with yours by chance.

Her eyes slightly widened at the sight of you, her gaze then dropping to your hands still joined with Historia’s before pursing her lips. Looking up to tangle your eyes again, she rose her hand in a little wave. You reciprocated the gesture weakly, never leaving your stare off her retreating form. You noticed that her shoulders became tense after that little encounter, fists enclosing the straps of her backpack and steps hurrying to get to her apartment that was just a walking distance from the university.

You felt a light squeeze coming from the girl beside you, knocking you out of your reverie.

“Let’s go?” Historia asked, eyes knowingly roaming your face.

“Mm-hmm,” you only hummed, following your girlfriend out of the campus.

You thought there wasn’t anything left but why were you still stuck in a limbo that you couldn’t get out of when you stared into those gray hues haunting your dreams?

< recount the night that i first met your mother

Mikasa had her life figured out. 

Everything was perfect. She has the most amazing people she can call her friends. She has the most supportive parents (and brother, but he can be a little shit sometimes but that’s beside the point). She has the perfect grades that can maintain her standing in the university, earning her great credits from various professors on the campus. She has scored a good apartment with her best friend, Sasha, all equipped with the best rooms and views that she can pay for a reasonable price. She is still a member of the university’s track and field long-distance running team, a regular and a manager at the same time. She also had the most beautiful girl as her lover and confidante, someone she could be herself with (not that her closest friends and brother didn’t see her real personality but being with her lover was a different kind of bliss compared to hanging out with her friends).

Well, had a girlfriend.

Ever since meeting you again earlier that night, suddenly Mikasa’s schedule for the night seems to blur.

It was her turn to cook for dinner but she couldn’t do anything properly. First, she managed to burn her sauteed vegetables, something that she had never done before knowing that this is her favorite go-to dish. Second, she boiled the pasta too long and now they’re too soggy. She nearly threw the pot down the sink but she didn’t want their neighbors to call the cops to their place, she just didn’t want to have a repeat of the first time that happened. (The first time their neighbors called the cops because of them was all Sasha’s fault, it appeared to the brown-haired girl that Mikasa’s cooking is one of the best in the world that she screamed bloody murder in the middle of the night.) Now, the gray-eyed girl had no choice but to start from scratch with the pasta, it was a good thing it was only the pasta though. 

The front door of their apartment opened with a bang while Mikasa tried to concentrate this time. Without looking up, she can see a brown-headed blur dashing towards the kitchen. “Stop right there, Sasha,” she said while stirring the alfredo sauce in the pan. “If you reach for the chicken one more time, I’m going to skin you alive. I don’t have the energy to hold your hungry ass back right now.”

Sasha backed away at the look of her roommate who was ready to commit violence if she steps out of line. “Whoa, who pissed at your day?”

Mikasa blinked, realizing that she might have been unreasonable with her remark. Of course, she wasn’t the only tired one in their apartment right now. Sasha was also struggling with academics and extracurriculars, not to mention, her love life is perfectly stable despite being in a relationship for a year. Not that Mikasa felt slightly jealous but she did everything she could to save their relationship but it still ended on a consensual note. The black-haired girl relaxed her tense posture, sighing deeply to expel the negativity accumulating her mind at the moment (Sasha called them dark forces after Mikasa told her about it, it took everything not to leave the room when the words came out of her friend’s mouth). Turning back on her sauce, Mikasa stated, “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed. You know, with the exams coming up and my track team entering this meet at the end of the month for official records. It’s just,” she sighed, “too much right now.”

“Aw, Mikasa,” Sasha empathized, going around the countertop to wrap her arms around Mikasa. She placed her head against her friend’s, petting the latter’s hair until they became a mess on her head. “I know just the thing to make us feel better. Let’s watch some of those anime movies that Armin recommended while eating dinner. Or anything that you want to watch if you don’t feel like watching anime right now.”

Mikasa smiled a little, resting her head on top of Sasha’s and relishing the comfort her friend gave her. “Thanks, I appreciate it, Sash.”

The moment she shared with Sasha reminded her of when you two were in high school. At that time, Mikasa was one of the star athletes that belonged to the track team. After the rigorous training their coach gave them, Mikasa’s knee started to hurt. This was dismissed by the head coach, saying that this wasn’t serious at all. You witnessed it when she ran more laps than what was written in her training regime to the point that her knee gave out. It was a good thing that her knee only acquired a sprain and a good rest from physical activities for some time will heal it gradually. Mikasa never had anything against it because getting some time off from her club meant that she could spend her free time with you. It was spent staying on her family’s couch, watching movies to pass the time while making small talk about her friends. The reminiscing continued until Sasha helped her prepare the living room for their movie night. She just couldn’t help but associate every little thing with you. You were a great part of her life since middle school.

She missed everything about you.

While the movie played out, her mind went to a time when it was time to introduce Mikasa as your girlfriend to your mother.

It was in the first months of being first-years in university. There was an issued academic break set by the faculties, taking the time to invite Mikasa to your home. You were so excited that that’s all you can talk about while the gray-eyed girl drove you two to your hometown. That was the only thing enjoyable in the entire trip. Everything went into shit when you blurted out that Mikasa has been more than a friend to you ever since high school. The look on your mother’s face was enough for the two of you to tell that this shouldn’t go on as planned.

“So, you’re telling me that Mikasa has been in our home, doing God knows what to you since high school?” Your mother flatly questioned.

The coldness of her tone made you stiffen in your seat. You can see Mikasa from the corner of your eyes trying to calm herself down by rubbing your hand under the table. It couldn’t be helped that your father, the only understanding person in the family, was absent because of his job. This is why your father chose to live separately from your mom, seeing as she was the kind of authoritative parent and wife, always hovering around each of her family members to keep them in line. You now understand why your father left her because God forbid, it was tempting to cut off ties with the person who gave birth to you as she threw degrading words at Mikasa left and right. You furrowed your eyebrows, tightening your hold on your girlfriend’s hand, which was trembling on your lap. The first time you saw her this shaken was when her knee got injured during her track training. Her skin was so pale like that time that you wanted to pull her out of the house and stay at a nearby hotel to get away from your mother’s wrath.

“Mom, please,” you pleaded, tears prickling your eyes.

“No, [Name], don’t you say another word,” she pointedly snapped at you. “I feel like I have become a failure of a mother. I don’t understand why you have a woman as your lover. It’s just not right. I support it but not if it’s with my daughter.”

You abruptly stood up with half-lidded eyes that never strayed from your mother’s similar shaded ones. Your hand still gripped Mikasa’s, your thumb stroking the back of it in a soothing circle that contrasted the indifferent gaze you gave your mother. When you were a child, you understood her sentiments because you’re her only child, the only person left in her life. But when she started badmouthing the little things observed from other people, you started questioning her parenting. You were told that people who love others of the same sex were sinning the word of a divine being but if that’s the case, you’d gladly be condemned to the pits of Hell if it meant protecting Mikasa from your mother’s harsh words. “We’re leaving.”

“What—?” It was Mikasa.

“Come on, Mika. Let’s find some restaurant downtown. This place is becoming stuffy and I don’t want you to suffocate any further.”

“Hey, Mikasa? Are you alright?”

Mikasa jumped, looking around at their apartment’s living room as if she was confused as to why she was there. She slightly shook her head before turning to the concerned brown irises of her roommate. Trying for a convincing smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, Mikasa forced a laugh as she mindlessly twirled the pasta on her plate with a wistful air surrounding her. “Yeah, I think I’m alright. Just saw my ex earlier when I got out of my last lecture for the day. I feel like that’s the reason why I don’t feel like myself today.”

The movie was then forgotten when Sasha positioned her body so that she could give Mikasa her undivided attention. With a serious expression that the gray-eyed young woman didn’t see in a long time, Sasha asked, “That gorgeous beauty?”

A nod was all Mikasa could answer. Gorgeous was an understatement when it comes to imagining you. You’re practically the most beautiful girl Mikasa saw in her lifetime. 

“Damn, it’s been what? Half a year since you guys broke up?”

A nod from Mikasa. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pushing them further into her chest, feeling so small at the moment. “It would have been fine if she’s alone but…”

Sasha’s mouth parted with realization; eyes wide as she stared at her roommate. “Oh,” she breathed. 

Scooting closer to the gray-eyed girl, Sasha wrapped an arm around her shoulder to let the former lean against her side. She always viewed the two of you to be endgame, seeing as you were dating since you were in high school. It sucks that no matter how much the two of you proved that you belong to one another, it just ends inevitably. Sasha even liked you when Mikasa introduced you to her new roommate when you were first-years. You were shining in the brown-eyed girl’s eyes; smile so bright that she couldn’t help but think you’re pretty, hair perfectly mussed by the wind during the ride to the apartment, casual clothing fitting you in the most pleasing way possible, and personality that one could describe as amazing. You even gave her some of your food when the three of you ate out together. (Mikasa always scolded you for giving away your food when you’re barely even eating regularly.) And when you guys broke up, Sasha saw how Mikasa ended up at the lowest point of her life, locking up inside her room and only going out when Sasha’s asleep. It was only recently that Mikasa slowly became herself again.

Now, Mikasa became that closed-off version of herself after the break-up, and Sasha instantly pulled her in for a hug.

The television kept playing the movie they chose to watch, Mikasa’s silent sobs blending with the movie’s dialogue and seeping through the night.

< she kissed my lips, i taste your mouth

You nearly pulled away when you tasted lemon instead of strawberry.

You nearly looked away when you saw azure instead of metallic gray after the kiss.

You felt so bad for thinking of midnight tresses instead of spun gold every time you lay in bed after hours of studying. Guilt bloomed in your whole torso like a giant wad of roses prickling your insides with their thorns, images of Mikasa plaguing your mind a week after you saw her again after six months. And every time you close your eyes to let sleep pull you in their embrace, arms so secure would wrap around your middle in your dreams, the smell of a rose-scented soap enveloping you in a warm cocoon. It was so contrasting to the minty scent you tried so hard to get used to in those three months you were together with Historia. You promised yourself you’d never date someone else after Mikasa but you tried because she told you to find someone who will treat you better than her. As much as you pleaded with your rationality to not follow her advice, Historia was a breath of fresh air.

It was a rainy night the time you and Mikasa broke up. Funny how you always love the rain and yet the one moment tormenting your daydreams occurred in a thunderstorm.

“Mikasa, what are you talking about?”

Your favorite-colored irises couldn’t meet your stare. “I said you deserve to be with someone who can make you glow with happiness.”

“Where is this coming from?”

She only shook her head, short black hair moving along with the movement. “I feel like I’m not giving enough in this relationship. I noticed how happier you look when you hang out with your friends from your department but when you’re with me, you’re mellowed down and so drained that I’m starting to feel like I’ve done something wrong.” Mikasa buried her hands in her hair, elbows placed on her knees, making herself feel smaller in front of you. You stood up from your bed to kneel in front of her, covering her cheeks tenderly with the palms of your hands. Yet she continued, “My mind is telling me these thoughts that I denied a long time ago since we started university.”

“What thoughts, Mika?”

“That our spark had died down for good.”

You searched her face for any sign of a joke but you could only stare at her downturned eyes.

“That I think we should break up for you to be happier with other people.”

“No,” you murmured, tears starting to blur your vision. “Mikasa.”

“I love you so much to see you unhappy with me.”

“I’m never unhappy when I’m with you. Where did you get that idea?”

Mikasa smiled despite her wobbly lips, gingerly placing her lips on your forehead. “I love you, [Name], I hope you’ll find someone bright enough to let you shine even more.”

It hurts just thinking about that but something pinched it even more when you stared at Historia in front of you, Facetiming someone on her phone. You two were celebrating the end of your exams in a café, treats covering the expanse of your table. It was a breather from all the stressful weeks draining your energy and now you feel refreshed. The book you recently bought was snug in your hands, eyes skimming over the words as Historia animatedly talked to her friend, Ymir. Hearing her laugh at something the freckled girl said, you couldn’t help but look up from a paragraph you were engrossed in. Historia looks so happy, cheeks flushed and giggles so clear that she couldn’t even contain them with her small hand. She never looked like this with you and as much as you anticipated the pain brought by the sight, it didn’t come.

Now, you understood what Mikasa felt, only this time you had to let Historia go because she already belonged to someone else.

Historia just said goodbye to her friend and you knew you had to hold on to this chance.

“Hey, Historia, I have a question.”

She sipped her iced tea. “Shoot.”

“You like Ymir, don’t you?”

The silence and flustered reaction that followed was all it took for you to smile.

< no more mistakes ‘cause in your eyes i'd like to stay

Getting out of a four-hour lecture was bliss to Mikasa. She stretched her arms over her head, letting out a deep breath of relief at the thought of spending her weekend without any backlogs. Finally, she can relax without feeling guilty. After all that hell her department professors gave her, she deserved this break.

Mikasa walked down the hallways with a slight spring in her steps, feeling her phone vibrate with a text message in her bag. Stopping by a little bit at the side of the hallway, Mikasa opened the outer compartment of her bag and turned on her phone. A smile instantly overtook her confused expression.

armin

hey, wanna watch a movie tonite?

eren suggested we could unwind after the exams

figured you needed it

you can stay the night here too !!

Her fingers typed out a reply almost giddily.

Sure.

Let me just text Sasha that I won’t be sleeping in the apartment tonight.

Another message from Armin appeared.

armin

yey !! see you later, Mikasa

At this point, her smile couldn’t be erased on her face.

See you later, Armin.

Then, another message from Armin popped out that made Mikasa laugh a little.

armin

this is eren

mikasa, can u bring dinner PLS

armin and i are too lazy to cook 

plus, you love us 🥺🥺🥺

The gray-eyed girl rolled her eyes, typing out a ‘fine’ before closing her phone. Her brother was sometimes too hard to handle but he can be sweet as well and saying that he needs dinner is just a way for him to say that he misses Mikasa’s cooking. When she looked up, a very familiar blonde and one of Mikasa’s classmates in a general subject came into view in one of the gazebos. Confusion was an understatement while she continued staring at Historia and Ymir laughing as if they were the only ones in the world. It was only a few weeks ago that she saw the blonde girl holding hands with you after a whole day of lectures. Maybe it was because she was staring too long at the couple that Ymir turned in her direction. As the freckled girl recognized the black-haired, stoic girl in one of their general classes, Ymir rose a hand in the air as a greeting. It also didn’t help that Historia looked at where Ymir was waving, with Mikasa tensing at the attention. She hastily waved back before turning in the direction of her car in the parking lot.

Several theories flickered through Mikasa’s head as she pulled out of the parking lot, the department store in their part of the city as her destination. Her mind was still a questioning mess the whole time she roamed the vegetable aisle until she bumped into another shopping cart, the clang of the metal breaking her trance.

“I’m sorry,” she told the person holding the other cart without looking up from her groceries.

“It’s fine.”

Mikasa quickly lifted her head at your voice. She probably looked like an idiot gawking at you in the middle of an aisle. You were dressed in an aquamarine shirt tucked in a pair of black slacks; your hair slung over one of your shoulders but for her, you looked so pretty. She concluded that you also got back from one of your lectures since your bag was placed inside the shopping cart, leaning beside a carton of strawberry milk. At the sight of the beverage, Mikasa’s chest pounded with her loud heartbeat, all the memories of you saying you like the taste of strawberries because of her entering her mind. Even after a full minute of you staring at each other, Mikasa couldn’t bear to look away. You’re so beautiful and she misses you so much.

“I miss you, too, Mikasa,” you murmured with flushed cheeks. “And you look good as usual.”

Mikasa’s face burned with embarrassment, reaching her ears, as she realized that she said her thoughts out loud. She was acting like she was in high school when she came to terms with her feelings for you. “U-Uhm, how are y-you?” Fucking hell, what is she stuttering for? It’s not like she got a below-passing score on one of her majors.

You softly smiled, tucking a stray lock of her behind your ear. “I’m doing fine. I was just thinking of making some homemade dinner tonight.” 

Mikasa nodded, recalling that you got a single apartment. “Me, too, but Eren asked me to make dinner for our movie night with Armin.”

At the mention of the two men, your face brightened. “How are they?”

The gray-eyed young woman reciprocated your smile. “Armin is still reeling Eren from doing anything stupid. You know how that dingbat is.” Your laugh made her day better. She faintly noticed that the two of you started walking side by side, pushing your carts to who knows what section of the department store. “The last time I saw them was before the exam week and we were studying so we didn’t do any catching up. Speaking of exams, how are yours?”

You hummed. “I think I got a passing grade on Parasitology and Microbiology. Those were the only subjects keeping me up for how many nights in a row.” You chuckled at your caffeinated state the previous weeks. “But the others were all papers so I guess I’m fine as of now.”

“Don’t tell me you got yourself palpitations from all the coffee.”

“You know me so well, Mika,” you laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to order coffee every time I go out this time. I don’t want a repeat of that night when I studied for Para. It was worse because I don’t have a roommate. How is Sasha doing, by the way? Still a ball of sunshine, I hope.” You spotted a cereal box you wanted to try so you mindlessly reached out for it but it was on the top shelf. Mikasa noticed your struggles, stopping behind you after chuckling to herself at how adorable you looked to reach the cereal box. You visibly tensed when you felt her front brush against your back, the box of cereal greeting your vision with Mikasa’s hand brushing on yours. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“You’re welcome,” she answered, patting your head before taking her cart and pushing it in the direction of the dairy section. “Yeah, Sasha is still as rowdy as the day you last visited. I threatened her again when she tried eating what I was plating for dinner. It was not a lovely night.” Mikasa paused, looking behind her when you’re not following close. She slightly panicked when she saw you looking down and gripping on the handle of the shopping cart. “[Name]? Are you okay?”

“Mikasa, I’m still into you.” You faced her with a smile. “Will you let me love you with all my heart again?”

Mikasa was speechless, her throat clogging up with overflowing emotions. She let out a delighted light, looking at you with eyes full of love.

“Yes. Will you let me in your heart again, [Name]?”

“Always, Mika.”

Their song of forever played once again and it felt so right that they wondered why they stopped it in the first place.

[blitzturtles]

Title: Guilt

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders (set after Golden Wind, given Jolyne's age.)

Pairing(s): JotaKak, JoKa, (Platonic) Jotaro & Jolyne, (Platonic) Kakyoin & Jolyne

Summary: Kakyoin is in the middle of answering one of Jolyne's many questions when he feels something twist violently inside his abdomen. He tastes what he thinks might be bile at rist, but the metallic tinge registers, and,

Oh god, no. Not here. Please not here.

Notes: Involves emergency surgery, chronic pain, preteen!Jolyne, PTSD, disabled Kakyoin, and near death experiences.

-

Here's the thing: Jolyne hates him. It's not a secret, and it's definitely not something that she bothers to hide from him. Jotaro keeps swearing that she'll come around. Says she's just stubborn (like her father is, Kakyoin sometimes thinks with far too much affection for a man that regularly drives him up the wall). There's also the fact that she's a preteen, and kids are apparently just like that at her age.

Here's the thing: Kakyoin would hate him, too. If he were in her situation. He's petty on a good day, and a right bastard on any other. He can't imagine being in her situation. With divorced parents who, while amicable, are both ridiculously successful and constantly busy. And then waltzed in Kakyoin, right in the middle of it. Though 'waltz' is a bit of a stretch. He doesn't do anything like that with his plated spine and braced legs, but none of that matters. The real point is that he gets it.

He does his best to never push more than he has to. For the most part, he lets Jolyne do her own thing, because she's a Kujo and a Joestar. She's going to do what she wants anyways. His opinion be damned, though he does try to reason with her. Hell, he's given into bribing every once in a while. (Sometimes the means don't matter when father and daughter are both happy at the end of the day.)

In short: Jolyne hates him, and Kakyoin understands.

______

Here's the thing: Jolyne finds Kakyoin to be a nuisance. An interference. One more complication to an already complicated life, and she's only eleven. She wants her parents to get over their bullshit (language!) and figure out how to make things work. She wants Kakyoin to go away, but that doesn't mean she wants him dead. Or injured. Even if she did wish him off the end of a pier that one time. Still.

They've admittedly grown to be more friendly over time. She talks to him now, which is an improvement to the chronic cold shoulder she gave him before. Sometimes she even asks him for help, because her dad can be surprisingly useless when it comes to school work (weren't you in school when I was little?) He always seems happy to help, and he never gets as frustrated as her dad.

So maybe she doesn't hate him, but she definitely wants him to go away.

______

Kakyoin is in the middle of answering one of Jolyne's many questions when he feels something twist violently inside his abdomen. He tastes what he thinks might be bile at rist, but the metallic tinge registers, and,

Oh god, no. Not here. Please not here.

He doesn't need to know-- specifically-- what went wrong to know that he's dying. The moment the pain goes from barely tolerable to utterly agonizing is about when his brain lets him know that he's operating on borrowed time.

Kakyoin could have used that warning approximately five minutes ago. Before the pain. Before he found himself in front of Jolyne.

"I'm sorry," he tries to say, hopes the words come out audible enough for her to understand.

There are tears welling up in her eyes, and they fall soon enough. God, he's made Jolyne cry. She's so young. So unprepared. And she looks so much like Jotaro. With panic stricken eyes and fingers that grasp for something to do. Some way to fix this. It makes his chest ache beyond the twisting and shearing that his insides are already doing.

(She looks exactly like Jotaro, in the hospital after the Foundation managed to retrieve them. The way her hands fumble in the air is so much like how Jotaro had reached out desperately, trying to hold onto Kakyoin, in case those had been his last moments. Like father, like daughter, Kakyoin thinks without humor.)

His knees hit the ground first, and that shoots pain up his legs and along his hips. The rest of it ricochets and dies somewhere midway up his spine. It's a momentary distraction away from the agony that is his middle. He reaches with his fingers to press against his stomach, half expecting them to sink inward (into nothingness. There's nothing. Dio punched a hole right through him, and he's going to die.)

Jolyne is yelling. His name at first, then for her father. Again, he's reminded of the day he died. Maybe it's all been a dream. He's waking up now and the end is pressing down on him. The light will follow soon. He knows; he's seen it before.

"Please!" Jolyne begs him, "I'm sorry!"

He is, too. It's the last thing he thinks before his eyes slide shut and the darkness grabs at him greedily.

______

There's shouting and bright lights and something covering his face. He can't make out anything with his vision so blurry, but he thinks he hears Jotaro's angry voice booming what could be an entire room away.

"If you fucking put a finger on him that isn't necessary to keep him alive. I'll fuck-"

"Dad!"

Jotaro inhales sharply but nods to the surgeon one, final time, "His team is on their way. Not a goddamn finger."

______

The Speedwagon Foundation has several doctors that Kakyoin sees on a semi-regular basis. Each is a specialist in their own right, and they're the only reason Kakyoin ever made it home from Egypt. They're also the only ones that regularly work on updating all the augmented parts and maintaining the damaged remains of Kakyoin's organs. They know him inside and out. Quite literally.

The team makes it to the hospital long before Kakyoin comes out of emergency surgery, which means the whole process is extended significantly. The upside (if it could be called that) is that Kakyoin doesn't have to be put under again. The downside is that it means they'll be waiting awhile.

Jotaro does his best to be strong for Jolyne. It's his job as a parent to keep a calm façade and push his emotions to the side. She needs someone to be her reassurance.

He fails miserably.

______

The head of the Foundation team emerges some hours later, looking a little worse for wear. The stoicism past that does little for Jotaro's nerves. It tells him nothing of what to expect.

"Well?"

"He's stable," the doctor answers. "We had to take out several inches of colon this time. If I had to guess, he probably believed himself to be having a flare. He adjusted to the pain until he became necrotic." His expression shifts into an unpleased frown, "He also has two ulcers. Has he changed his diet? Or experienced any new stressors?"

Jolyne's lip quivered as she processed the doctor's words. She thought over every time she and Kakyoin had fought in recent history. Most of it being her yelling at him.

Jotaro's focus remains fixated on the doctor, "What the hell kind of pain is he still having?"

The doctor-- one Jotaro recognizes from previous visits but can't recall the name of-- sighs, "Kakyoin will only allow us to do so much to help manage his pain. I'm not his specialist in that regard, but it's at his request that he's kept on very little in terms of medication."

Jotaro knows that. He knows that Kakyoin doesn't like what stronger pain meds do to his head, but how out of control is his pain that he didn't notice that he was dying? That his body has been rotting from the inside out for an unknown amount of time?

Jolyne shifts further behind him, drawing his attention to her. It's the only thing that spares the doctor whatever response Jotaro might have otherwise formed. He turns to look at Jolyne and is startled by the tears already trailing down her round cheeks. Realization hits him then.

She's eleven, and he's an idiot.

"Hey, hey. Enough with that. He's going to be okay," Jotaro says quickly. He should have- called her mother or his mother or literally anyone. This isn't a conversation she needed to be privy to.

"It's me," Jolyne chokes the words out. Her thin arms wrap tight around her middle, and she looks close to collapsing on the ground.

Jotaro, admittedly, has no idea what she's talking about, "What's you?"

"The stress!" She practically wails.

Jotaro sighs and moves to wrap his arms around Jolyne. He tugs her in against his chest. "That- that's not the kind of stress the doctor is talking about," he glances over his shoulder to see that the man had already dismissed himself. Smart guy.

"I'm always mean to him!"

Jotaro wants to laugh. Not at all because he thinks her words-- or her suffering-- are funny, but because the whole situation feels unreal. He cards his fingers through her hair instead. It's all the comfort he feels like he can offer in a situation like this. With his own resolve teetering on the edge.

"Takes a lot more than that to take out Noriaki," he's lying through his teeth. The whole new family thing might damn well be enough stress, but he's never going to let Jolyne think this is her fault. It's not. Kakyoin is capable of making his own decisions, and being part of their family is one of them.

Jolyne crumbles against him despite the gentle words, so he scoops her up and holds her against his chest. Even at eleven, she's nothing compared to his size. He finds a nearby seat to settle into and lets her cry while he whispers promises he can't be sure he'll be able to keep. Eventually he tries distracting her with facts about dolphins, and that either has some effect, or she passes out from exhaustion. Either way, he's relieved when she snores against his neck.

______

Kakyoin comes to the waking world in a haze. His head aches and his middle feels a lot like it might have been ripped open again. He hopes that whatever happened had been a little more civil than that.

It doesn't take him long to place himself in the hospital. That's good. He isn't dead, and he's not immediately at risk of falling into enemy hands. The beeping to his left is annoying, and he can't see well enough to make anything out on the monitors around him. His vision tends to be the last thing to recover when he's been knocked out for a while. Still, he turns his head to continue to take in what he can make out.

He stops short when he sees two people in chairs on his right side, closer to the door. The familiar hat catches his attention immediately, not that he needs to be able to see at one hundred percent (or his version of it) to know that the man is none other than Jotaro. His size will always give him away before anything else.

Jotaro's head is bowed in a way that indicates he's likely asleep. He's undoubtedly been here awhile. Jolyne sits beside him with her head pressed against her father's bicep. Star Platinum is out and wrapped around both of them. He lifts his hand from Jotaro a moment to wave at him brightly, which is enough to disturb his user's sleep.

"Mm?" Jotaro grunts. He opens his eyes and sucks in a breath. He takes a moment to compose himself, which is fine. Kakyoin thinks he probably looks worse than he feels, thanks to the drugs. He would make a joke about it, but moving still hurts.

"Good to see you awake. How're you feeling?" Jotaro asks. He doesn't move from his spot, if only to avoid waking up Jolyne, but that intense gaze is evaluating all the same.

Kakyoin gives a noncommittal answer, and Jotaro snorts, "That's what I thought you'd say. Good thing we have this." He reaches for the little controller on the side of Kakyoin's bed. He presses the red button before Kakyoin can protest.

The glare he shoots Jotaro is relatively short-lived, and it's hard to be mad when Jotaro looks so damn triumphant, even if it's about something that Kakyoin has complicated feelings about. He decides to let him have this one, considering the fact that he's pretty sure he gave them all one nightmarish scare.

"I'm sorry," he says after a while, head lulling back against the pillows. His red hair spreads out all around. It's longer now than it ever has been, but he hasn't felt the need to cut it beyond a simple trim in years. It doesn't matter, but it gives himself something to focus on rather than the gnawing guilt.

"Don't be."

"I- god, I never meant-"

"Kakyoin."

"If I had known, I would have left the room or-"

"Kak-"

"She was so afraid. And she-"

"Noriaki," Jotaro snaps more than says the name, but his eyes are soft. "You aren't the only one that made her cry in the last few hours, so you're not special." That's not true. Kakyoin is incredibly special, but he needs to make some kind of light-hearted comment before he starts crying. Nobody needs to see that.

"Still," Kakyoin mumbles, but he doesn't continue.

Jotaro reaches out with Star, who clasps his large hand over one of Kakyoin's. He wants to lean forward himself, but he doesn't want to wake Jolyne up. Not yet.

Kakyoin turns his palm up to tangle his fingers together with Star's. He brushes his thumb over the stand's, knowing Jotaro can feel it reflected on his skin.

"I really thought it was a flare," he says after a while, because he feels like he owes some sort of explanation after everything.

"Nori, I really can't tell you how much I don't give a damn about that," Jotaro frowns at his own words, "No, I mean- I care, but- fuck." He scrubs his hand over his face a few times before trying again, "You don't have to feel guilty for this shit, okay? I should have noticed you were in pain."

Kakyoin shakes his head. He squeezes Star's hand to make sure Jotaro's listening when he speaks, "It's not your fault. I deal with this pain all the time. It just- at first it felt like a flare, but I guess I got used to it." And every time the pain worsened, he acclimated until it had nearly killed him.

Jotaro doesn’t get a chance to respond before Jolyne is rustling against him. She opens her eyes a crack and reaches up to wipe at them with her fists. “Dad?”

“Right here,” Jotaro grunts in response. He squeezes her shoulder gently, then retracts his arm to give her space to stretch out. “Kakyoin is awake.”

He watches the fog clear from her eyes. They widen as she processes his words, and her attention immediately turns to the redhead, who waves meekly at her.

“Jolyne, I’m- oof!”

Star quickly gets his hands around Jolyne’s waist, suspending her in the air enough to keep her weight from falling too heavily onto Kakyoin. He lets her down carefully, and the youngest Kujo looks sheepish for her overreaction.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” Kakyoin says, curling an arm around her loosely in return. He hadn’t expected to be nearly tackled upon awakening. That went doubly so when considering Jolyne as a factor. She’s never hugged him before. Trauma is funny in that way; something he knows from first hand experience.

Jotaro steps up behind her and offers a small smile to Kakyoin, “We’re glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah!” Jolyne echoes, “You scared the shit out of us!”

“Jolyne,” Jotaro’s voice is gruff. An attempt at a warning that falls short. The way his lips pull further upward is a dead giveaway that he isn’t particularly upset by her language usage.

“It’s true!”

“Good grief.”

Kakyoin snorts at the father-daughter duo, relieved to see the two smiling again. Already bickering as per usual. There’s too much snark trapped in the Joestar bloodline, and it always amplifies whenever there’s more than one of them in a room. He’d know, having been on the road with Joseph and Jotaro in the past.

Somehow the back and forth settles into Jolyne rambling about dolphins. She regurgitates facts that-- for the most part-- Kakyoin already knows, but he feigns shock and awe at all the right places to keep her spirit up. It’s more healing to watch her babble emphatically than it is lying around in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. It eases some of the guilt, makes him feel lighter.

Eventually, Jotaro whiskers her out the door. Kakyoin catches sight of Holly, which must mean that Marina is tied up. Holly doesn’t come in, likely at her son’s behest. The woman is a mother through and through, and she can be a bit overwhelming at times. Better to focus all that maternal energy on Jolyne for now.

“You look tired,” Jotaro says when the door clicks shut behind the two. He takes his spot back next to Kakyoin’s bed, pulling his chair as close as he can. His knees grind against the railing of the bed a bit, but the distance allows him to lean forward and get a good look at his partner.

“I could say the same about you,” Kakyoin points out with a raised brow. He still can’t pick up his head for more than a few seconds at a time, and his vision remains fuzzy around the edges; a likely side effect of being drugged to the gills, but he isn’t blind. He can see the bags collecting under Jotaro’s eyes. Exhaustion-- emotional as much as it is physical-- already weighing his shoulders down.

Jotaro snorts an unamused sound, “I’m not the one that just had emergency surgery.”

Kakyoin winces at the reminder. “I’m-”

“If you finish that statement, I’m going to give you a reason to be sorry,” he isn’t. Jotaro won’t hurt him, but the words make Kakyoin close his mouth anyways. For a second.

“Oh, and how are you going to do that?”

Jotaro stares him down for a solid thirty seconds, expecting him to back down. When he doesn’t, the man pushes himself to his feet with an exasperated sigh. “Good grief, c’mere,” his fingers hook under Kakyoin’s chin, and he leans down to press their lips together.

As far as life affirming kisses go, it’s one of Jotaro’s more gentle ones, but Kakyoin feels the thrill of it chasing down his spine anyways.

“I love you,” Kakyoin murmurs as they break apart. He wants to add an apology to the end, but he bites his lip and keeps it to himself for now. He’ll find a way to make it up to Jotaro and Jolyne later.

“Love you, too, Tenmei.”

[patriciasage]

imposter syndrome

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Summary:

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

posted in full below the break but you can find me on A03!

There’s a knock on his door.

Duck nearly trips over Lucy on his way to answer it. She makes a grumbly little meow, and he grumbles right back at her as he regains his balance. “Dammit, Luce.” She scurries to the bedroom when he unlatches the door.

Standing on his front step is Indrid Cold. He’s wearing his regular outfit of jeans and a tank top, and he’s shivering a little in the spring air. “Hello, Duck Newton,” he says with an unnerving smile.

Duck grins back. “Indrid! God, it’s good to see you. I was- Hell, I was worried about you.”

Indrid adjusts his glasses and rubs his arm, flustered. Duck looks up at him and tries not to think about how cute he is. They don’t have time for that. “Come in.”

When Duck turns around, Indrid has closed the door and moved close into Duck’s space. “Oh, um, listen, Indrid,” Duck says, trying to stop the blush in his cheeks at the proximity. “I’m real sorry for, y’know, punchin’ you in the face…”

“All is forgiven, Duck,” Indrid replies with a smile. “You saved my life.”

Duck tries to keep his eyes forward, staring at Indrid’s chin, because whenever he looks up at the other man all he can think about is kissing him.  They had spent a significant amount of time together during the last hunt and, although the Silf is a little strange, Duck knows flirting when he sees it. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of someone’s interest like this often, and it was a bit of a thrill to flirt back and let the Winnebago settle with a warm, mutual attraction. But they don’t have time for that right now.

“Listen, man, a lot has happened since you flew away. We got an abomination on the loose that’s real smart and real scary; it can –”

Indrid interrupts him. “I know.”

“Right. ‘Course, you do.” Duck chances a glance up at the other man and sees his own flustered, red reflection staring back at him. “It’s a little fucked up, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how we’re gonna –”

“Duck.” The ranger jumps when Indrid places a cold hand on the back of his neck. “I missed you.”

“Well, yeah, I- uh,” Duck stutters, “I missed…missed you, too.” The taller man smiles. “But Indrid, we need to –”

And then Indrid kisses him.

Duck kisses back without thinking. It’s been a while since he’s had any romantic contact, but he’s been daydreaming about this for quite a few months and insecurity doesn’t have the chance to take purchase. He places his hands on Indrid’s narrow hips and the other man hums before burying his hands in Duck’s hair. Indrid kisses him like he’s trying to consume him. Duck stumbles back a little at the ferocity and breaks for a breath.

“Woah. Yeah, alright. Right. I mean, this is… I been wantin’ this for a while.”

Indrid grins. “I know.”

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

The three of them stare at each other for a stunned moment. Duck’s brain rushes to make sense of the situation – the paradoxical presence of the man whose hips he’s holding and the hulking, unsettling monster standing on shattered glass in the carpet. “What the fuck?”

Duck takes a step back out of Indrid’s embrace. The uncertainty in his chest becomes drenched in horror as he understands. But he doesn’t have the time to react. Everyone moves at once.

Indrid’s left hand morphs and turns into a sharp, flesh-coloured blade. The Mothman charges forward, knocking some model ships off of nearby shelves with his wings. Duck twists and falls back onto his couch in an attempt to escape.

Duck feels a burning pain in his side and his back hits the cushions. The Mothman crashes into Indrid and they both fall onto the coffee table. It breaks under their weight. Duck scrambles to grab Beacon at his belt, but the movement makes his side flare up and he lets out a shout. The Mothman’s huge red eyes meet his, but this gives the creature underneath it an opportunity. The abomination, its skin shifting as it struggles to maintain Indrid’s form, pushes up into the Mothman’s furry chest with ferocity. The Mothman lands on its wings with a grunt.

Even with its bestial facial features, Duck can tell the Mothman is surprised at the abomination’s strength and speed. The abomination is escaping out the broken window before Duck can draw his sword and before the Mothman can right itself.

They’re frozen for a moment, trapped in the sudden silence. Duck reaches across his body and places his hand on his right side. There’s warm blood soaking into his shirt and the fabric of his couch. “Fuck.” He grimaces. He breathes through the pain before looking back at the looming, dark creature shaking out its wings. “Indrid?”

The Mothman nods vigorously. “Yes!” It reaches a clawed hand into a pouch hanging off of a belt at its waist and retrieves a pair of large, red sunglasses. It quickly puts them on and the huge form of the Mothman turns into Indrid Cold. He’s wearing faded jeans, a bulky sweater, and an expression of guilty concern. “I’m so sorry, Duck. I flew as fast as I could.” He rushes forward and his hands flutter from Duck’s cheek to his shoulder and then a few inches over the wound on his ribs.

“Your hair’s longer,” Duck says.

Indrid’s hands stop moving and he just looks at him for a moment. “Yeah.”

Duck swallows, mouth dry. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks, Duck. Listen, you’re bleeding all over your fucking couch. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?” Duck teases.

Indrid shakes his head in frustration, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He gently moves a strand of Duck’s hair behind his ear. “You know it doesn’t work like that.” He stands up and rushes to the ensuite bathroom. Duck smiles when he hears him say hello to Lucy before rifling through the cupboard.

“Then how come you found it without me telling you?” He calls out.

“I don’t have time for your shit, Duck Newton. I looked into the possible futures where you weren’t being difficult and just told me where it was!” This is, without a doubt, the real Indrid Cold. Talking to him feels natural, like it did months ago, not the strange, charged conversation with the imposter a few minutes ago. Even though he’s in a lot of pain and he’s going to have to replace his couch and his window, Duck feels calm and happy. And he might be going into shock…just a little bit.

Indrid returns with the first aid kit in his hands and a towel under his arm. “This isn’t really my area of expertise, so you’re going to have to assist me a little,” he admits. He nudges some pieces of wood away with his foot before kneeling on the carpet in between Duck’s knees. He places the items down on the couch and gestures. “Take your shirt off, please.”

Duck can’t help but blush at the sight of Indrid on his knees in front of him. He reaches for the hem of his shirt and raises it a bit before the pain of the movement stops him. He lets out a strangled cry at the same time that Indrid’s cold hands grasp his wrists. “Sorry! Sorry, Duck. I should be paying more attention. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. Here.” Indrid begins to lift the hem before he stops, eyebrows furrowed. Instead, he reaches for the first aid kit.

Duck gives him a questioning look when he lifts a pair of fabric scissors. “Really?”

Indrid shrugs. “It’s going to hurt you to lift your arms.” He pauses, watching Duck’s face carefully. “Is this okay, Duck? Tell me how I can make you more comfortable.” Duck feels a warmth in his chest. This is the considerate Indrid he knows.

“Yeah, ‘s’fine, go ahead.” Duck feels his face heat even more, this time from embarrassment, as Indrid carefully cuts through his T-shirt and pulls the fabric away from his body. Indrid, usually perpetually distracted, is intensely focused on the task. Duck can’t stop thinking about how his position – slumped on the couch cushions – doesn’t do his body any favours. He knows that Indrid is focused on the bleeding wound on his side, not his stomach curling over his belt, but it doesn’t stop Duck from closing his eyes.

“Duck?” Indrid is looking at his face now. “What do I do now?”

“Right.” Duck takes a breath and harshly reminds himself that he’s forty-two, not fourteen. Still, he grits his teeth and attempts to straighten his posture. He gets a good look at the wound for the first time. It’s bleeding a lot but it’s not too deep. The abomination had obviously intended to stab him in the stomach, but Duck had twisted away, causing the weapon to slice a horizontal line through the skin over his ribs. “God, that was a close call, wasn’t it?”

Indrid doesn’t respond. Duck places the folded hand towel over the wound and presses down. When he turns back to his companion, Indrid is staring at the center of his chest. His lips are pressed into a thin line and he’s breathing hard. “Indrid?”

“It was a close call, Duck Newton.” He harshly wipes his eyes under the glasses. “There were so many futures where I wasn’t fast enough, and I watched it impale you. There were so many futures where I didn’t come at all and it killed you in other, horrible ways. And it killed you wearing my face, Duck –”

Duck leans forward, even though it hurts, and places his free hand on Indrid’s shoulder. “Hey, woah, slow down, man. You made it. I’m alright.”

Suddenly, Indrid looks furious. “And it kissed you.”

For a second, Duck feels a surge of shame, but he pushes it away. The abomination obviously has access to memories that give it accuracy in appearance and behaviour. He couldn’t have known. “I’m, uh…yeah. That musta been weird for you to see.”

“Yeah, it was weird, Duck.” Indrid’s hands tighten on Duck’s knees, seemingly without intention. “It was weird because I’ve wanted to kiss you for months. I think you’re the bravest, kindest, most handsome man I’ve ever met. And you kissed him back. You kissed him back because you also want to kiss me. And I’m so fucking mad that it took that from you – that it took that from me!”

Duck is stunned into silence. Indrid has always been a very honest man, but Duck wasn’t prepared for such an emotional confession and confirmation. He finds his voice. “I still want you to kiss me.”

“What?”

“It didn’t take anything, Indrid. I want you to kiss me. For real. The real you. I still want that.”

Indrid leans forward, bracketed by Duck’s legs. He places both hands on Duck’s stubbled cheeks. “Are you sure?”

Duck nods. “Yeah.”

Indrid kisses him with tenderness and care, almost reverence. If Duck had been standing, his knees would be weak. Indrid’s lips are slightly chapped. His thumb slowly caresses Duck’s cheekbone. The abomination had known a lot about Indrid Cold, but it got so many things wrong. It had kissed Duck like it wanted to consume him. Indrid kisses Duck like he’s giving himself over. He kisses Duck like he’s precious, like he wants to keep him safe.

Duck wants to pull him closer, hold onto his back, but in that moment he becomes aware of his own hand pressing a towel to the wound on his abdomen. Regretfully, and very slowly, he pulls away. “Let’s bandage me up and then we can keep doin’ this, alright?”

Indrid shakes himself. “Yes, of course. You’re hurt. What am I doing?”

“What I asked you to.” Duck replies, somehow both stern and coy. He’s satisfied when Indrid’s expression softens.

They patch him up well enough to stop the bleeding. Indrid retrieves a button-up shirt from the closet so that he doesn’t have to raise his arms. Duck catches him staring, eyes lingering appreciatively on his chest and stomach before they’re covered up by closed buttons. Duck blushes again, pleased.

This abomination is terrifying. It’s lodged itself in the heart of Kepler and Duck isn’t sure how they’re going to get it out without disturbing the peace. It feels like it’s a catalyst for something bigger, something they’re not ready for.

But Indrid’s back. And Indrid kissed him. And sometimes it’s alright to focus on a good thing for a moment.

[messwriting]

Summary: “There’s an animated tone on her voice that worsens his mood. It’s close to eleven at night, they’re plotting an undercover mission, why the hell is she so cheerful?” -- Or Aizawa begrudgingly helps in a undercover mission and meets someone he didn’t anticipated. Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five Warnings: Reader is a hero involved in intelligence work, with a specific quirk. No other warnings, other than maybe talking about human and drug traffic? I’d like to pinpoint there’ll be canon-type violence and eventual smut. N/A: GUYS I’M AWFUL AT SUMMARIES BUT THIS IS GOOD. /// This is MY FIRST MULTI-CHAPTER FIC, omg you guys. I was going to go crazy and just publish the whole 20k in one go, but i’m a bit behind on the smut part, so I decided to go slow. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Like usual, thanks to @mixedhell​ for reading (and beta-ing) this and telling me it doesn’t suck!

All the light that illuminates the minimalistic decorated room is so clearly artificial that it hurts his eyes in a slow burn sensation that has his already diminished humor dropping several points. He already hadn’t wanted to be present for this meeting and now the nagging voice in his head is on an extensive rampant on how he was right and should have declined this specific consultation. Blinking repetitively to coach some kind of relief, Eraser Head is surprised to notice how many people are already present in the meeting. And even more when he notices the Chief of Police presence.

He sends a small nod of acknowledgment that is quickly returned. On his side is the police officer and on the other side of the room is Centipeder… and a woman he doesn’t quite remember having met, and he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have forgotten such a presence. Dragging his eyes from her form, he forces himself to look at Centipeder, who seems to be starting the meeting.

“Now that all of us are present. Let’s begin.” While the mutant pro-hero is always polite and thanks Eraser for having agreed with consulting on this matter, he’s fast and right to the point. Eraser notes that Bubble Girl isn’t present, but quickly focuses on the explanation being given.

The former Nighteye Agency has been investigating some shady business about drugs and quirk-related human traffic, and the possibility of discovering a small shipment of enhancing drugs has been presented. Though they think it won’t be over thirty unities, it’s still thirty triggers in the streets and they’re concerned about how to manage the apprehension without hurting the intelligence operation they have invested so long on.

The Chief of Police nods along with the explanation and when Centipeder finishes, he’s the first to speak.

“I agree that any chance of getting our hands on any triggers before they’re on the streets is valid. That being said: how much is the chance of it hurting the current operation your agency has going on and what would our losses be if it happened.” It doesn’t go unnoticed by Eraser Head that both the Police Chief and the Pro-hero seem to risk glances over to the woman by the wall and Eraser concludes she must be involved in the intelligence operation.

“Our chances are very good, or this possibility wouldn’t be presented today. While we also agree very much on the matter about getting our hands on the triggers, we’ve been investing years in this operation and the risks would outweigh the good – since we’re almost closing a traffic ring that operates in three continents.” Centipeder explains calmly, his eyes glancing only slightly to the woman.

A small silence falls on the room like the rest of the people are expecting something.

“Don’t worry about the risks – if we conduct this correctly, there won’t be any.” It’s the first time she speaks and Aizawa swears someway he can feel her voice; like a caress, it scoots over his neck and slides through his ear like a velvety sense that creeps him out. He ponders if that’s her quirk – something about seduction and discretion going around in his mind. Maybe. After all, he’s no stranger to the concept of some quirks being used in the seduction kind of espionage and Eraser can definitely sense the appeal of someone like her.

If he adds it to the strange fact he doesn’t know her in any way, it seems even more likely.

She seems uncomfortable with the shift in attention, which prompts Centipeder to assume the leading of the meeting once again.

“We have a plan designed. We wanted your input in it.”

It’s a simplistic plan, if Eraser tries to be kind. It puts all of the pressure on the woman, that’s being called Dream for whatever reason, so he supposes that's either her nickname or hero name. She’s going to enter the club where the group they’ve been investigating has been conducting their business and slide her way into the negotiation with the power of charm and eyelashes, apparently. While Aizawa doesn’t doubt it can work perfectly, he’s skeptical about the whole thing. After she saunters her way into the negotiation and follows the suitcase with drugs, she’ll give Eraser a heads up about who to follow and he’ll make his heroic apprehension. Why it couldn’t be someone else? They didn’t want to involve the agency and Eraser has a low profile as a hero that when added to his quirk made him the better choice – it was that simple.

By all that mattered, he didn’t even needed to be a pro-hero at all – as long as he had his quirk. It was a bit… disheartening to be so coldly chosen. But, so was life. He lit his cigarette when no one objected to it and sucked a breath.

“It seems like you guys barely even need me.” He lets a breath out. “She’ll be the one doing all the work.” Eraser nods in the direction of the woman and somehow he swears he can feel her smirk creeping up on the back of his neck like a fucking curse. She’s bad news and he sucks a renewed wave of nicotine.

“Does that worry you?” Her voice is calm and collected but the sound of her voice is all the fucking shades of sultry sin. He does a double-take in her direction before he can take a hold of himself and is thankful that the attention of the other men in the room isn’t on him. Somehow, she doesn’t look anything like she sounds. She’s dressed normally in jeans, dark shirt with boots and jacket over it all. Her looks seem… forgetful. While Eraser is wondering, she’s smirking at him, and the feeling of impending doom cracks on him again. Damn. “I assure you that my work is reliable. I have been watching them for a long time. It won’t be a problem.”

“I would feel better in my position as a backup if we were more honest about ourselves.” He drags another breath of nicotine and feels somewhat better. Her eyes are on him and he swears he can feel them – on his face, his neck, down his arm… Despite himself, Eraser has never been a fan of strong eye contact but it dawns on him that it isn’t displeasing. It’s a strange feeling, but he’s begrudgingly okay with admitting to himself it isn’t a bad one.

“I’m sure we both know honesty isn’t very present in my line of hero work.” The connotation on hero is self-depreciative and makes him wonder. “But if it’s about my quirk and where I’ll stand on the operation, I’m sure we can talk about it more privately.” She sends a look to the Police Chief that is supposed to be apologizing but has him adjusting in his chair. “You understand the problem with revealing my quirk at any job I do, right, Sir?”

The Chief nods and Centipeder seems to be wondering about what to fucking do with his agent. Aizawa empathizes; muses about ending her playtime with a blink of an eye and is surprised with the discovery that he doesn’t want to. The smile she sends his way this time has a feeling of friendly secrecy that has his hands flying to lightly massage his eyes. She’s good.

The whole interaction is somewhat tiresome. He feels drained, but hasn’t really done anything. The thought that her quirk can have something to do with it passes through his mind while Centipeder recalls the attention of the trio.

“Well, since we all seem to be up to speed, we’ll leave Dream and Eraser to assert last details and organize the operation for this Friday.” Centipeder ends the meeting, but the Chief takes more than a few seconds to refocus and agreeing. While he’s getting up and quietly excusing himself to leave along the insectoid pro-hero, Eraser swears he listen to a small comment of “she’s that good, huh?”.

When Eraser looks at the woman again, his mouth seems to dry out. She’s close by the door, directly under an emergency light and looking stunning – long locks, beautiful lips and eyelashes over big, bright eyes. Damn. He thought her forgetful? How?

“Do you mind if we do the rest of the meeting over dinner? I haven’t eaten yet and I’m starving.” She’s holding the door open for him and he sucks a smoke just to have something else to do than look at her while he walks over.

“Dinner? Where?”

“Don’t worry. I know a place.”

-

The “place” is a small bodega in the middle of a dirty street by the center. It’s clearly an inadequate place to be at night, with barely a single soul wandering the dirty streets, where commercial places are closed. He’s certain it can only maintain itself by appealing to regulars. That aside, the place itself is nicely clean, small, decorated with trinkets that make no sense unless mixed together in that messy, homely design. There are light bulbs and fairy lights and all the tables seem self-made, but with quality wood. The stalls are mismatched like the tablecloths. Putting it all together, it’s like a small home business that the owner was improving a bit at a time and it’s… oddly endearing.

“I knew you would like it.” She announces when they sit by one of the windows after she had ended her chit-chat with the owner about how things were going. The moment they entered, he had come by and happily greeted her. Aizawa doesn’t know what to make about their friendly interaction. With her line of work, what she seems to like or dislike can’t truly be trusted.

“I enjoy being away from crowds.” Eraser takes the moment to light another cigarette. She doesn’t seem to mind, since he’s been smoking since they left as a way to keep himself busy and focus on something else than… her. Now, with the woman right in front of him, there’s little he can do about it. He barely can remember the ride here – what she looked while driving, what she did on the elevator, or even the way she walked while coming to the place. It’s weird – he does remember looking at her from time to time and her looks are imprinted in his mind now that she’s in front of him, so… why?

“Are you uncomfortable?” She’s the first to break the small silence. Aizawa’s a bit lost in thought while musing about her features – the forgetful looks and the brazen ones, weirdly both in front of him. But, honestly, aside from the questions burning in his head, there’s little tension in him. It’s quite… fine.

“Why would I be?” Like on cue, something in the air itself around her seems to change in front of his eyes. There’s a perky shine in her eyes and an interesting appeal in the small, upwards curve of her lips. Her hair seems shinier, and so does her skin. It’s a bit unsettling, but even her bosom seems to be more noticeable and Eraser looks away while sucking a new breath of nicotine. He’s completely weirded out by the sudden change.

“Sexual tension.” She deadpans and her voice does that thing again. Where it creeps up his neck like fingers in a caress. While his blood runs a bit faster, the approaching doom Eraser feels with every second that extends in her presence quickly diminish it.

“It’s under control, don’t worry about me.” He’s displaying such a detached tone and unimpressed look - what some people may even call his every day face - that it makes him a bit proud,  not letting her gauge any reaction from him. Another trip of the cigarette to his lips and he presses the more urgent matters. “Now, didn’t you mention organizing the last details?”

“It’s essentially about the limits of my quirk and things we need to take care before I go in.” She looks like a daredevil, her eyes boring in his like she’s expecting something. While her voice still has every bit the same influence, he’s more focused and somewhat less surprised by the sensation. The silence extends and there’s an amused smile in her lips when she reclines on the chair.

“You don’t seem so curious.” It’s a soft accusation, like a taunt, and in turn Aizawa just… looks at her. He muses if that’s what makes her unease. By this time, the owner comes back with a bottle of sake and green tea, puts two cups on the table and leaves.  “You could just end it in a blink of an eye.” She’s pouring the sake on her cup; Aizawa accepts it with a nod and she pours a bit for him, too.

“I would prefer if you did it on your own accord, rather than force you to it.” That has her looking at him like he just surprised her and while he doesn’t know why, she sends him a tender smile.

Then, she changes completely.

It isn’t a gradual change, like her body starts shifting and then there’s a completely different person in front of him, no. It’s like a second pass and suddenly there’s someone different sitting in front of him. Nothing has changed, no time passes between the moment where she was somehow enticing and the moment where she… seems someone else. The brilliant hair isn’t the same as before, less shiny, messy and frizzy, shorter and… they’re of a deep color, paired with a lightly round face with tired eyes and still long lashes but none of the charming curve, none of the… weird shine.

Her eyes are… of a different shape. Her lips are a bit chapped, no lipstick, even if they’re still… nice? He’s not sure what to say about it. She’s still somewhat attractive, but it’s like a filter has been removed between what she was and what she seems like now. He notices her body seems to fill more of her clothes. He’s also glad to notice her bust is normal, the attraction pull it had before gone.

It barely takes a second for the new image to dawn on him, but minutes go by while Eraser notices her, every little bit of detail that was different and now is presented to him. When the silence extends into an uncomfortable feeling, she breaks it.

“Damn, I thought it would draw a better response than this.” Her smile curves into a bit of an annoyed one. He huffs out a puff of smoke he didn’t realize he had dragged in.

“Illusion quirk? Those are rare.”

“Nope.” She takes the sake to her lips and Aizawa catches himself watching it sliding down her throat. …What? “It’s more mind-oriented.”

“Aren't you altering my perception?” He questions, his right arm supported on the chair on his side while he lazily scoots back in the chair he’s sited.

“Yes. But not by an illusion or anything alike, I’m essentially hacking your brain.” Her expression is… cheerful, pretty lips in an upwards motion and bright eyes looking expectantly at him. Like she’s very satisfied with her analysis, despite the fact he’s certain she must have done this explanation hundreds of times. Aizawa does not share her high spirits.

“You’re… what?”

“I can alter the perception of people close to me.” She loses a bit of the weirdly animated vibe she was wearing and it pleases him. His cigarette is coming to an end on his fingers. When he doesn’t speak, she just continues her explanation. “Essentially, I can change what you think you’re seeing; make me-- or others, more thin, tall, blond with blue eyes, foreign… The possibilities are endless. I can make you think you smell something, feel something.” Her voice drops an octave and it has him squirming upright in his chair. “I can change your senses – touch, vision, sound, smell…and taste.”

“That’s why they call you Dream.” It wasn’t a question. With a power like that, that was exactly what she could become. Suddenly he understands the sultriness of her voice, the appeal of her looks. While it wasn’t exactly what would make him do a double-take, it certainly was… something. “How do you do it?”

“Now, that’s too much information you don’t truly need for this case.” She waved her hand while dismissing his question. Maybe it was hormonal? Bio-chemicals in the air? It didn’t depend on contact, clearly. Maybe strictly psychological? Eraser thought about the possibilities. “I can see you’re musing about it, good luck.”

The owner shows up again, two steaming hot bowls of ramen being set in front of them. It smelled amazing and looked good too – and he questions himself if that was true, his eyes darting to her on cue. She was already slurping carefully, blowing air on it before eating with a pleased look on her face.

“Best ramen ever.” She murmured while tasting a mouthful, looking up to him and trying a smile. The exchange was… He wasn’t sure. After the first bite, Eraser was quick to talk.

“Psychogenic powers are even rarer.” She simply shrugs and keeps eating, content. He eats a bit too, agreeing that it tastes very good. That’s why the place even has regulars; they aren’t coming back for the tacky embellishment. After some moments, she goes back to business.

“The video cameras have to be taken care of. While I can alter perception, I’ll look the same on video and to those watching it. My identity can’t be risked, for obvious reasons.”

“Can’t you do something about them?” Aizawa deadpans. She looks at him with an arched eyebrow that has him feeling judged.

“I could, but you mentioned thinking the plan was too much me-oriented. Wanna throw that on my plate too?”

“Fair enough.”

“They don’t have someone watching it, it’s merely for show. There are several men spread around the club, mingling with the clients, providing ‘safety’.”

“Anything else?”

“I’ll leave with the man that’ll take the drugs. Where do you prefer doing the apprehension? His house? Car?”

“We can’t do it close to the club, or it’ll spook the seller. You could fake some problem inside his car and then I’ll intervene? Let’s do our best to look unrelated.” She mused about it and seemed to agree.

“Yeah, I can make a scene. That’ll have some consequences later on, but I’ll deal with it then.”

Eraser didn’t ask because he knew she wouldn’t give him more information than needed. Somehow, it felt like she was proud of him for it. He changed the subject because her now perceptible tired eyes made him wonder if she took care of herself; her job was draining and too close and directly in harm's way. They finished eating in silence and it was… not bad.

“You still haven’t told me your name.” Eraser says when they finish eating, his eyes on her face, staring at the possible tells.

“You can call me Dream.”

“I don’t want to call you Dream.” Aizawa deadpans immediately, his eyes sustaining hers. She blinks, her lips pressing in a line and she looks away when she answers with: “Y/n, then.”

The owner came to retrieve the bowls and before Eraser could risk paying, the older man quickly denied it. Dream laughed softly and when he had left, she dropped some bills on the table when they were leaving, signaling him to be quiet. She yelled a quick goodbye and proceeded to push him out of the bodega, snickering.

“I helped him out a few years ago and now he almost never lets me pay.” She vaguely explained and then they walked in silence to the car parked a few meters away. Now he understood why every other interaction before she stopped using her quirk seemed forgettable and weirdly vague. Everything during dinner seemed glued to his memory, fresh like a burn. The way she blew on the hot ramen and her happy expressions when eating; the way her lips softly swelled with the hot food; the concentration look and the well designed, full eyebrows.  He could clearly remember it all.

Even now, while walking side by side, Aizawa could notice things that had been occult before; the way she relayed more on her right leg when walking, the curve of her bottom and how her jeans embraced her appearance. Her hair is shorter than he thought too. And the tired expression she held seemed like it had been carved on her skin permanently – as his.

The heels of her boots click on the asphalt, the only sound they hear and she doesn’t avert the dirty parts of the streets. He wonders if she even notices them. While she drives, a soft tune plays on the radio. They talk about things he would prefer not, like pro-hero rankings, the attacks of the League of Villains at the U.A., especially his class and Endeavor’s efforts as the new #1 hero. Nothing that revealed anything about her, while showing quite effectively she knew lots about him and when he squirmed around in his seat again, this time it was of clear discomfort.

If there was something Aizawa quite disliked, it was being blindsided. It happened quite commonly on the work as a hero, and it did nothing to diminish his feelings toward it.

By the time she pulls around at U.A. entrance to drop him, he’s in a sour mood. Dream has kindly (and annoyingly) pinpointed facts about him during the whole trip and assured a fair knowledge about him and Eraser has nothing on her. Before he leaves the car, he turns to her and carves her face in his brain.

He barely knows if her name is truly Y/N. His bad mood is probably showing, because she has a wide smile on her lips and before he can be out of the car, she’s putting a card in his hand.

“Call me so we can talk about the plan, equipment and backup. I don’t wanna involve the cops in this.” There’s an animated tone on her voice that worsens his mood. It’s close to eleven at night, they’re plotting an undercover mission, why the hell is she so cheerful?

“I thought we had finished the details over dinner?” Aizawa asks, blank expression in a most annoyed tone. He eyes the entrance of the school in longing. Even the unbelievable drag of a class of thirteen years olds sounding more delightful than another minute with this woman.

“And pass up the chance of taking you out again? No way.”  He’s surprised at the way in which the hairs on the back of his neck get up with the flirty intention. There isn’t a caress, no sultriness or glow. Aizawa looks at her and knows there’s no quirk involved, which makes it worse. She’s rolling her window up and leaving before he even moves.

That woman, Aizawa thinks and sighs, is a clear troublemaker.

-

[to be continued]

[whumpinggrounds]

Gotcha Day

my first non-Febuwhump piece of writing! here goes :) this is set before the last day of Febuwhump (You Have To Let Me Go) and i mean i really don’t need to explain much i don’t think bc it’s fairly self-explanatory but i am nervous so. yes

tagging @shapeshiftersandfire and @killtheprotagonist ! lmk if you want to be added/removed from being tagged it is a lot a lot of content so sorry about that

CW: lady whump, pet whump, dehumanization, memory loss, discussion of scars, past burns, implied non con,

Director Hammond’s office is much like the Director herself – alternately welcoming and terrifying, depending on what mood has struck her. Today, the curtains are open, the room is filled with light, and the Director has a bouquet of flowers on her desk in a vase. That’s good, right? All of that is good.

Mara still feels the nerves in her stomach buzzing like a hive.

“I don’t want to drag this out,” the Director begins, and Mara’s heart sinks. It’s some polite dismissal, something like that. There’s a self-satisfied little smile playing around the woman’s lips, and Mara tries to brace herself, folding her hands neatly in her lap and staring down her doom with icy eyes. “We have decided to let you train her. 067493.”

Stunned, Mara stares at the Director. There are no words in her mouth, no words in her head. She wants to speak, knows she should speak, but she can’t. An incredulous smile starts to curl up her face.

“Now, before you get too excited, there are some conditions.” Despite her lecturing tone, there’s a smile on the Director’s face – probably because of Mara’s huge ferocious grin. “She’s not your pet, technically speaking, not until the trial period is over. Obviously, she’s coming with what we call a factory defect, so you got very lucky there, otherwise we’d never let her go. She’s not fully trained, but honestly, Ms. Langford, we’re not going to spend the money and time to finish out the training on a model that we’re essentially giving away.”

“Yes.” Mara’s head is nodding on her neck like a bobblehead. “Yes, okay, that’s fine. That’s okay. That’s so okay.”

Amused by her eagerness, the Director nods. “Good. Now, primarily, Ms. Langford, we want to explore two things with 067493, and we feel that gifting her to an employee, while highly unusual, will give us an opportunity to answer some outstanding questions.”

“Okay.” Mara’s heart is racing. God, she feels like she’s going to pass out any second. “Okay, so, so, um, what are those questions, then? The things…what it is you want to, um, explore?”

The Director smiles at her, fondly, warmly. “First of all…” she pauses for effect, “some of the higher-ups loved this therapeutic aid idea. If it’s workable, there could be a strong market there. Of course, we’ve been trying to work a caregiver angle for a while, but the medical stuff is often just too complex for pets. This emotional approach could give us a very similar sector, but with none of the concern about pets operating medical machinery incorrectly.”

“Y-yes.” Mara’s breathless, dazed, struggling just to keep up. “Yes, definitely-”

“Now, not everyone is convinced, but enough of us think that it’s worth a try. Which brings us to our second objective.”

Here, the Director pauses long enough that Mara can stop focusing on her breathing and look up inquisitively. Finally, tentatively, she prompts her superior. “Ma’am?”

The Director shakes her head as if to clear it. “Yes, well. What we are interested in is…is…” she purses her lips, clearly wondering how to explain. “Pets who may end up living with someone they know or recognize from their former life. As you know, pets are prone to false memories.” Mara nods dutifully, despite knowing full well there’s no such thing. “We want to see if our Boxies can be taught and trained in such a way that they can be…reintroduced to their old life, or one like it, while maintaining good behavior and accurate memory blocks.”

“That sounds…” Mara swallows. “That sounds…difficult.”

“Indeed.” For the first time, the Director looks grim. “Of course, that’s exactly what you’re attempting with 493, and if you could pull it off…we’ve had some interest. People who want to…serve their loved ones in a more straightforward and simplified fashion.” For just a moment, Mara tunes out, thinking with a sort of horrified fascination on the kind of environment that would lead to someone wanting to erase themselves while staying where they were.

Or, even worse, Mara pictures someone coming in asking for a loved one to be erased, returned sweet and pliable and empty. She barely represses a shudder. Ignorant of Mara’s internal monologue, the Director forges on.

“We are proposing that you take 067493 home as your Domestic. You will be responsible for making her into a…a prototype, essentially, for this therapeutic aid program. You will also be expected to report any aberrant behaviors that could conceivably result from…ah, memory confusion.”

“I can do that.” That all sounds absurd, and difficult, and unfair, but Mara doesn’t care right now. All she cares about is getting Jude and taking her home and, and having her. Having her back.

“We’re going to allow you an adjustment period, and then we’re going to ask that you bring 067493 in for regular checkups, where we’ll be looking for signs of this memory confusion, as well as updates on your progress.”

“That…yes, that sounds very doable.”

Once again, the Director smiles fondly across the desk at her, and Mara has a funny, frightening feeling that she’s become Barbara Hammond’s newest little pet project. “I believe that it is, Ms. Langford. Despite the cosmetic defaults, she seems like a sweet thing. I can’t wait to see what you do with her.”

___

When Handler Collins leads Jude out, Mara’s heart about stops in her chest. There she is. There’s Jude. There’s…Jude, and not Jude.

A pair of black shorts, a WRU white t-shirt over skin that’s much paler than last time Mara saw it. Her stocky frame diminished, all her old rugby muscle losing or lost. She looks like...Mara hates the cliche, but she looks like a ghost of her former self, literally. Skinnier, paler, a whole lot more haunted. Her hair, her hands, the freckles and the way she walks just a little pigeon-toed – that’s Jude, that’s Jude all the way. The flat, false calm in her face and the fear in her eyes…that’s someone else. Swallowing, Mara clasps her hands together in front of her, trying to quell the urge to reach for her girl.

“Here she is!” Handler Collins throws his hands out grandly from his place beside the boxgirl. “All yours.”

“Wow,” Mara manages. “Uh…wow.”

Collins shakes his head. “Wow is right. But, hey, wait – you want to check the damage?” He’s still grinning, like it’s no big deal, like it’s all a joke. Mara sucks in a deep breath. The-the Box Babe in front of her is wearing a t-shirt, but Mara can see her cracked reddened palms and wonders what the thin cotton over her chest is hiding.

“I…I guess, yeah. I mean, I’m taking her either way,” she mutters, trying for a joke. Collins is more than happy to laugh at her.

“Shirt off, 493.”

Hesitantly, the trainee obeys, darting a wide-eyed glance at Mara as she does. The cotton goes over her head and oh.

Oh. There, on the right side of the girl’s chest, is the burn, red and angry and raised, covered in blisters. The scarring is worst on her collarbone, but the pink, stretched, destroyed skin crosses her neck below the line of her collar in one direction, creeps toward her armpit in the other. Mara’s horror must show on her face, because the girl flushes, looks down.

“That’s um. That’s pretty bad.”

Handler Collins shakes his head. “You don’t have to tell me. Fucking Underwood. Fuck.” He spits on the ground near the trainee’s bare feet. “She’s finished the antibiotics she’s supposed to be taking. The vet thinks she should be set. Just uh, she’s got this stuff she’s supposed to spread on it.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Mara can’t stop staring at the burn, at the way it glares out, crimson and furious, from Jude’s pale, freckled skin. With effort, she tears her eyes away, to the downturned head of the waiting boxgirl. “Put…uh, put your shirt back on.”

The girl obliges quickly, and, Mara imagines, gratefully. She’s too well-trained to even wince when her movements stretch and ripple her healing skin. Mara’s eyes move hungrily over her face, her skinny body, searching for the parts of Jude she recognizes. The girl keeps her eyes on the ground but her cheeks go pink under the scrutiny.

“Doc, I gotta say.” Collins is shaking his head, and reluctantly, Mara turns her attention to him. “I don’t know how you got this one past the Director. I mean – a Box Babe for free? After what, ten months of working here?”

“Fourteen,” Mara corrects, a little too quietly. She clears her throat and tries again. “Over a year, Handler Collins.”

Rolling his eyes, Collins dismisses her with a flap of his hand. “A couple months, a year, whatever. A matter of months and you’ve got yourself a bonus worth tens of thousands? You must’ve shrunk the Director’s head to get her to agree to this one.”

Mara manages a tight smile for him. “I’m definitely…I definitely feel lucky.”

Leaning in, eyes gleaming conspiratorially, Collins puts his mouth near Mara’s ear. “You have good reason to feel lucky, Doc. Me and the guys – well, you’ve given some good advice, these past few months. It’s helped. And business is up. Company’s talking about padding the paychecks a little, and you’re a part of that, you know?” He gives her a hearty slap on the back and Mara forces a smile. “You’re part of the team! And the pet’s a gift from the company, but we thought, hey, why not a little something from us handlers, for our good doc?”

A shiver runs down Mara’s spine. “What…” she wets her lips, tries to sound amused, curious. “What did you do?”

“We only had a week or so to do it. Director Hammond decided so late, and all. But, but look, we crammed in some Romantic training, just for you.” Collins’ leer is too much. “None of the positions, of course, that shit’s extra, but a few of the lines, a few, ah…habits you might like.”

Mara thinks about him touching Jude and wants to tear the grin right off his face, wants to snarl and scratch and chew him out right there. Instead, she finds the girl’s eyes, searches there for some help, some hope, some recognition. Anything.

Her new Box Babe looks back at her with eyes that are flat and dull and empty.

[mae-gi-writes]

Behind The Crown (Part One) | Kevin Moon Imagine (The Boyz)

Prince Kevin Moon x Second-In-Command Reader. A Royal Kingdom AU.

Genre: fluff, royal kingdom au, angst

Words: 3K 

I love Prince Kevin and I’ve received so much good feedback on Royal Kingdom AUs so I’m planning to make more of them! Enjoy xx 

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There is nothing more poetic than a dark night sky dotted with stars twinkling like diamonds to accompany a romantic evening. Unfortunately for Kevin, there isn't much room for romance in his life anymore. Last night had been a flurried exchange of written contracts and verbal agreements between the two kingdoms that reign over the land of Meridia, a promise that their heir would be betrothed to the prince of Meridia to bring the two royal families together as one.

Kevin isn't a stranger to the concept of arranged marriages, he'd been preparing for this his entire life, having been brought up in a household where royal blood and family pride is placed above romance and fluttering feelings of the heart. 

The more the date approaches though, the more restless he feels. Something in his heart tugs at him in a manner that feels heavy despite the obvious happiness glimmering on his mother's face, as though all the unresolved loose ends of the world now make perfect sense and work together in harmony. 

His eyes roam over the city lights glimmering in the distance, notice the soft glow of the lanterns surrounding the castle walls that seem amber in the dim light of the night. Vines twirl around each and every tower, blooming with the most beautiful array of hibiscus flowers, well-trimmed and maintained by the royal family's gardeners, most probably, and as he feels the wind brush through his raven locks, Kevin closes his eyes and breathes in the soft scent of summer salt carried over from the waves underneath the cliff on which his royal palace stands. 

"Your highness."

He doesn't need to glance back to know that it's one of his personal guards, bowing at service. A soft smile creeps over his face, "back already?" He asks in a soft murmur. 

The royal guard goes to stand beside him, "I should be asking you that."

"You know why I'm back so early."

"Too much royalty for you to bear?" 

Kevin catches a glance of Y/N's features, softened by the shadows cast from the lights behind her, "indeed."

"Did you meet your betrothed?" She crosses her arms over her chest and looks out at the view. 

Kevin's fingers bunch over his shirt sleeves unconsciously, "I did."

"Bet she's your type, isn't she?"

"Not funny, Y/N."

"Sorry," she holds her hands up, a playful grin on her face, "ah come on, Kev. It can't be that bad. You knew you had it coming."

"I know, I just wish I didn't have to. This is exactly why I'd rather be born a stable boy sometimes." 

"If you were a stable boy, marriage would not have been on your mind."

"And that's exactly what I want."

Y/N nudges him on the shoulder, "wanna go to the cliffs?" She suggests with a wriggle of her brows and for a minute, Kevin contemplates the temptation in his mind. 

But then, realizing that he should probably start acting like royalty if he wants to be up to the task, he lets out a sigh instead before hanging his head.

"I can't," he murmurs, "I can't do those things anymore, Y/N. You know that."

"Ah well, I'll just have to find another partner in crime," she tuts playfully, causing him to scowl, "oh no, you're not!"

"You're the one who's bailing."

"I don't have a choice!"

"Whatever floats your boat, your majesty."

Despite the current situation, Kevin can't help but let out a choked laugh. Trust Y/N to make him feel better even in the shittest situations. It had been the first female guard that he'd hired as part of his personal protection squad, much to the protests of his family. To that, he'd stated that women should have just as much right to fight equally in the battlefield lest they wanted to, and Y/N had been grateful that his beliefs seemed to include equality for women. But at that point, his parents had no say in the people that served him and thus had kept shut about it.

The first few weeks in the Meridia Kingdom had unsettled her, for Kevin isn't the most princely of princes. With his easy going manner and his clumsy attitude, he gets himself into more trouble than the normal regular person. It took her some time to adjust herself to the casual way in which he addressed her, taking her more like a friend than an actual servant and in a way, it had brought them closer. Gone was the Kevin that was heir to the throne. Instead, she gets a taste of his lame jokes and his annoying sass, gets to know the softest parts of his heart through vulnerable conversations and the way in which he has so much space and understanding for others, it's surprising he has some left for himself. 

So in the moments where the prince himself feels the weight of his responsibility settle over his shoulders --just like right now -- then Y/N makes it a must to distract him, if only for a little while.

"Hey Y/N," Kevin's murmur almost washes away when another wind picks up. Fortunately, she hears him.

"Hm?" She looks over.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the way the moonlight cascades over her face with a softness that renders her so endearing, so youthful, unlike her usual sharp eyes and the tense clench of her jaw. Standing here right at this moment, she looks like she is years younger than she actually is, and something in his heart twists with yearning.

"You're still going to be my guard right?" Kevin asks softly, saying the words carefully, "even after I get married?" 

His heart clenches at her sad smile, "well, I guess that depends on your beloved, your highness."

"She doesn't have a say in the people that serve me."

"She will, if she knows that your personal guard is a woman. A woman close to you, no less."

He doesn't tell her that she is right. But even as the wind howls and her figure climbs down the wall, disappearing from the tower, he comes to the realization that what she says is nothing but the truth. 

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

The next days to come are filled to the brim with meetings between the council members of Meridia, dinners and brunches of all kinds with extended family that come from afar to bestow upon the new couple good fortune and a long, happy, fulfilled life. With every day that passes, Kevin's smile gets a little more strained, a little tighter around the edges, his eyes dimming with every second closer to the fact that he will be married in a month's time.

"I'm so fed up of royal lunches and dinners and just about any type of food they can offer me at this point," Kevin can't help but moan as he and Y/N trail along the beach to catch the remaining beams of the sunset, one of the rare occasions where his presence at the castle is not mandatory. 

His sandals are forgotten, dangling from his fingers, while Y/N is practically barefoot. Her pant sleeves are rolled up to catch the fresh waves as they lull to the shore. 

"You do seem to be getting a little chubby," she lets out a remark, which instantly causes Kevin to look at her with alarm. 

"You're kidding." 

"Is that--a hint of a tummy I see?" She pokes at his side on cue and the young man bats her away, making her chuckle as she falls into step beside him.

"Did you have a nice chat with princess Delia?" Y/N asks as she kicks at the water with her feet, toes wriggling through the sand. 

Kevin shrugs in response, "she's alright, I guess. At least we have things in common, like drawing and music."

"And yet you were badmouthing her."

"You're supposed to be on my side."

"I always am, your highness."

Kevin makes a grab for her elbow so that she looks up at him questioningly, "it's Kevin, to you," his eyes flash with emotion, "none of that Highness bullshit." 

"Okay," Y/N's eyebrow is quirked up in amusement, before adding, "your highness."

He scowls in response and she laughs, "okay okay, Kevin." 

They walk along the beach for a little longer, watching the sunlight dance across the aquamarine waves lapping up at the sand's edge, glimmering silver whenever its reflection bounces off its surface. 

"There's a royal ball tomorrow night," he speaks up amidst the comfortable silence, "Will you come?"

"I always do."

"Not as a guard."

That stops her in her tracks, "I can't do that, your highness."

"Why not?"

His eyes are scorching hers, intent on making her cave when they push against her own mahogany orbs, "I'm your guard, Kevin. Not your--not a maiden. Far from it."

"I'll talk to Mother about it," Kevin urges, quickly swivelling before her so that she has no other choice than to look up at him, at his beautifully refined princely features and the finely shaped lips that he's inherited from the King himself. His orbs, glowing a burnt shade of amber in the descending sun, causes her heart to skip a beat despite her attempts to keep her cool. 

"Please, Y/N. It's one of the last days where I'll be free to do as I wish. My last days as prince of Meridia."

She hates how authentically charming he is, how he can easily convince her to bend at his will. He knows his strengths and he plays that to his advantage. 

So she has no other choice but to bite down her protests and nod while pushing aside that weird squeezing feeling she has in her chest, the warmth trickling inside her heart at the thought that he might see her as just a little more than a mere guard. He is her prince, after all, and orders are orders.

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

Y/N tugs down uneasily at her dress, palms accumulating sweat even though she has been constantly reminding herself that she has been on suicide missions much more life theatening than a mere ball.

What can possibly go wrong? She tries making herself feel better as she gazes at her reflection, nothing right?

"You look beautiful, Y/N." 

Glancing back at one of her comrades sitting at the foot of her bed, she lets out a snort, "you could've sounded a little more convincing, Hyunjae."

"I mean it!" Hyunjae argues, "you...you look pretty, Y/N. Have a little faith in yourself."

How can she? She trails her eyes down towards the midnight blue gown she has donned for the occasion -- an older model dated from years ago that she had managed to salvage from the seamstress at the last minute -- with its wide neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The dress clings to her like second skin, before fanning out at the waist in a midnight trail of stars shimmering every time she moves. If one doesn't look too close, the dress looks acceptable. Simple, but acceptable in comparison to the gorgeous ensembles that she'll be compared to at the ball.

Hands clamp down on her shoulders before Hyunjae'a face pops up next to hers. He gives her a reassuring squeeze, "you'll be fine, Y/N. If you managed to slay hundreds od soldiers, you'll survive a ball. I promise."

"Thanks," she bites down onto her lower lip and watches him tease her hair that she hss let loose for the occasion. 

"I think I like you better with your hair down, you look more--" he pauses for dramatic effect, "soft. Like a girl. Know what I mean?" 

She throws him a punch on his shoulder and he yelps, releasing his hold, "that hurts."

"Sorry, must be the nerves," she flashes a fake smile, before sobering up, "anyway, wish me luck."

"Go get them, girl."

The room is already filled with guests by the time Y/N makes her way over, entering through the side door as The Queen has suggested with a haughty huff --in order to avoid any kind of misunderstandings --and while she isn't really the type to think the worst of people, she is beginning to think that the Queen might have a thorough dislike for her presence. 

Trying to blend in with the crowd, Y/N impulsively grabs a glass of wine and settles at the corner of the room, content to watch and analyze people like she usually does. It's part of her job description, after all. The ballroom looks stunning in veils of white and champagne-colored drapes adorning each passing victorian column, long tables with matching white tablecloths lining one side of the wall and peppered in golden flecks. Chandeliers have been wiped clean this morning and are gleaming, twinkling whenever they catch the light beaming down like a golden halo around the room. 

"And who might you be?" 

The unfamiliar alto causes her to jump slightly, and she turns to see a handsome man dressed up to the nines, in a deep emerald tuxedo and with hooded eyes, a sharply defined nose, and pushed back midnight hair. 

"I--uh, I'm no one," she is quick to stutter out, almost backing away on impulse. 

"Please," he murmurs, "I mean no harm. I just want to talk."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don"t think I'd be of much interest to you," Y/N stammers out, panic slowly rising through her, "I--I am really nobody at all and--"

"Would you care to join me for a dance?" 

"I--I'm sorry, I don't--" stumbling back into a chest, a yelp dies at the back of her throat when a hand slips around her waist. 

"Pardon me, Prince Younghoon. She's with me." 

Kevin. Her heart makes a leap of ecstasy. He's close, so close she can smell his scent, can feel his warmth from his hand to the small of her back and it takes everything in her not to combust into a small flame. 

"Oh," Prince Younghoon's eyes widened. He steps away and bows, "my apologies, your highness. I was not aware."

Y/N waits until the said suitor is out of earshot before she twists out of Kevin's embrace, "what do you think you're doing?" She hisses. 

"I saved you," he replies with a raised brow, "you do not want to mess with the likes of Prince Younghoon. He's got wandering hands."

"And you don't?"

His cheeks flame up, "of course I don’t"

"Prince Kevin!" 

A beautiful, fair-skinned woman suddenly appears with a hand placed on Kevin's arm, a suggestive action perhaps. Her face, petite and just as refined as his, boasts of an air of royalty without having to introduce herself. 

"Delia," Kevin offers her a wan smile that she returns and the brilliance almost blinds the female soldier, "this is Y/N, she's my special guest for tonight." 

"Ah, yes. I remember you mentioning her," Delia smiles before casting her a once over. Y/N tries not to shrink back upon impulse, "would you mind if I steak Kevin away for a few minutes? Mother would like to talk to him about the wedding preparations."

Y/N shakes her head and watches as he is tugged away despite the uncertain look he sends her, before quickly pasting herself against one side of the ballroom, content to watch and admire from afar.

These people, she realizes, aren't from her world. It's like she's looking at them through a thick fogged-up glass, perfect figurines made out of perfect molds. She, in comparison, feels so awkward, like an ugly duckling in a crowd of glamorous swans. 

The evening passes by uneventfully and slowly for Y/N, whose eyes can't help but linger over Kevin and Delia's figures as they glide over the dance floor. Her heart scrunches in protest every time he'd smile down at the princess, burning heat crawling through the back of her throat and choking her with its intensity. 

Why is he looking at her like that? She asks herself sullenly, why does he look like he's having such a great time when he kept telling her that he wasn't interested in marrying her?

Y/N knows all too well what that familiar prickle is, but it's not like she can do anything about her jealousy. He's royalty and no matter what kind of feelings she might be catching for his majesty are invalid, should be thrown out of the window instantly. It is only going to result in heartbreak, in tears. 

And yet, she can't help it if her heart seeks his own. Despite her constant reminders that he is way out of her league, this tiny voice pushes at her insistently like a bratty child. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" She jumps, swearing profanely under her breath, only to realize that it's none other than the man she holds dear to her heart himself.

"You seemed to be thinking hard about stuff," Kevin jokes while nudging her shoulder, "what's up? Why do you have that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"Like something displeases you."

Shit, she thinks to herself, before quickly brushing it off, “it's nothing." 

Kevin shoots her a pointed look. But when it's clear she isn't about to divulge any of her personal thoughts, extends his arm, "care for a dance?" 

"I don't dance." 

"You will now," and before she can refuse, he has grabbed onto her arm and pulled her to the middle of the dance floor, one hand pressed to her waist, the other clasping her hand in his. 

"Just follow me," Kevin's murmur brushes against her ear. Close, and warm. Suddenly, the ground seems all too unstable and her grip unconsciously tightens on his, all too aware of the multitude of eyes boring into her back as they spin in harmony with the other couples.

"So, I noticed you and Delia are getting along well," she says, voice light so that he won't detect the slight wavering intonation that she wants to imply. 

But Kevin is quick to catch on, raising a quizzical eyebrow, "we are," he replies slowly, as if measuring his words, "we don't have any choice, after all. She's going to be my wife."

That hurts her a little more than she'd like to admit.

“That’s--wonderful,” she croaks out, except that it’s not really what’s lingering at the tip of her tongue. 

She can feel the heat of his stare, adamantly focusing her eyes on his chest to avoid any type of confrontation. Y/N isn’t sure whether her heart can take it. 

“Is it really?” he murmurs.

Y/N eyes glance up, quickly flit back down, “I mean--yeah, it is. She’s your bride-to-be, the one you’ll be spending the rest of your life with.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

Frowning, she looks back up at his face, “of course I--of course I’m okay with that,” she lies through her teeth.

Something shifts in his eyes then, something she can’t quite figure out. But it’s gone as soon as soon as she blinks, leaving her to ponder upon whether she has imagined the whole thing. He doesn’t mention it again throughout the evening, though she can tell that something has urged his mind to be preoccupied since his responses come out soft and barely attentive, like there’s something else preoccupying the front of his mind. 

But it’s not until later that night that she understands why.

After their guests have left and his parents have retreated to their quarters, Kevin pulls her outside into the King’s Courtyard, a small garden adorned with exotic flowers of all kinds, and most primarily, an ode to the hibiscus flowers tilted up to gaze at the moon, blossoming in full glory. 

“You could have at least let me change before dragging me out here,” Y/N says while tugging her skirts away where it had just gotten tangled in a rosebush. When she is met with nothing but silence, she spares a glance at the Prince only to see his face tilted up, eyes closed, basking in the light of the moon, and softens. 

Kevin, as long as she’d known him, had always found solace in nature. Most interestingly, the moon. It calms him down to know that there is a bigger universe far more important than his problems, he states every time she questions him about it.

“Your highness?” she prompts in a soft murmur.

That catches his attention, causes his eyes to find hers. He sighs heavily, “don’t call me that.” 

“It’s just for the formalities, no need to be so stingy.” 

“I’m not, I just--” there is an evident struggle on his face as he tries to find the words. He bites at the corner of his lips, before looking away with another exhale. 

“Kev?” she moves closer, close enough that if she reaches out, she can touch his arm, “what is it?” 

It takes a moment for him to find the words. But when he speaks next, his voice is laced with a mixture of pain and emotion, a fragility that causes her own chest to swell in concern. 

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing? By marrying Delia, I mean?” 

She cocks her head to the side, “I don’t know. Would you call that a choice if there’s no other option available?” 

A pause. Then, in a small voice, “sometimes, I wish I could just run away.” 

She blinks at him, unsure. Is this the part where she encourages him? Or not? 

She decides to stay quiet.

“I--” his chest swells when he breathes in shakily, “--I don’t-- I don’t want to get married, Y/N.” 

Another bout of silence ensues and Y/N shifts uneasily from one foot to another. 

“Then don’t,” her mouth lashes out before she manages to control herself, which rewards her with Kevin’s shocked face as he faces her with wide eyes. 

“Are you serious?” 

“If you want me to be.” 

“Be serious, Y/N.” 

“I am.” 

His maroon orbs, almost dark in the dim light of the courtyard, are glistening as though wet with unshed tears as they hold her gaze with an expression so familiar, the same one that he gave her earlier in the ballroom, although god knows what’s going on in his mind right this very minute. 

She opens her mouth to say something else-- anything really, to shake off that weird feeling settling over her shoulders -- but finds that words die atop her tongue as he keeps on gazing down at her, features softening and mouth slowly parting to say words that never make it out.

“Would you?” he suddenly blurts out, “run away with me?” 

“Wait, you’re--you’re actually considering it? I don’t think--” 

But his hand comes up to brush against her cheekbone then, which causes her to fall silent as she swallows thickly and tries searching his face for any indication, any sign of playfulness, for fear that he is just playing. 

The tingles that his thumb leaves against her skin has her breath rattle. Suddenly, she can’t seem to move, for fear that doing so will shatter whatever magical air surrounds them, charged with something she can only describe as electricity.

“What,” she’s glad that her voice comes out as strong as she wants it to be, “are you doing?” 

Kevin just keeps staring at her with hooded eyes as though he’s dazed, his thumb brushing against her skin, over and over until she can’t stop the blush from rising and she hopes that the darkness is enough to mask her reaction.

“I don’t know,” he searches her eyes, so close that his breath washes over her face, “it just feels right.” 

“That is not appropriate behaviour--”

She almost yelps when his other hand reaches down to grasp hers. Looking down at their now entwined fingers, she is pretty sure that her face is flaming red by now, and too embarrassed to look up at the said prince, Y/N bites at the inside of her cheek with her head bowed.

“Look at me,” Kevin urges, “look at me, Y/N.”

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“You--You know you can’t do that. It’s--” her voice breaks then, “it’s not fair.” 

He leans in even closer. Their lips are millimeters apart and her orbs flicker up to notice his half-lidded eyes tracing her every feature. Something inside her heart gives a jolt.

“What isn’t?” he breathes.

And then, his mouth catches her own.

Yelping slightly at the sudden sensation of his lips cupping hers in an unfamiliar embrace, her heart almost gives out in her chest as her legs turn to jelly, and she all but melts against the prince’s chest as he untangles their hands to wrap his arm around her waist, pressing her even closer. He tilts her head back with his other hand, cupping her cheek and stroking lovingly at her dewy skin as his mouth slowly moves over hers in a sinuous dance of affection. 

He smells heavenly. He tastes heavenly. She can barely breathe, barely think straight, scattered thoughts running around and disrupted by the fireworks and cartwheels tumbling through her chest. 

Turning her head away in a weak attempt to escape, she lets out a breathless, “your highness--”

“Don’t call me that,” his lips trace along her jaw to catch hers once more, hand leaving a trail of sparks as it traces her backside in the most sensual of touches. 

Y/N can’t help but shiver and return his kiss despite her brain screaming at her that this will only result in heartbreak, and heat rushes down south when a noise sounding like a moan rumbles through Kevin’s chest. 

At this particular moment, even though the pair are stealing kisses like thieves in the middle of the night, Y/N can’t feel like everything suddenly makes sense. 

[cakers-2000]

Ur blog is amazinggggg. I love the way you write💕💕 Can I have Kokichi x Princess s/o?

Thank you so much I’m glad you like my blog and my writing!!!

I wasn’t sure if you wanted like a Princess Ultimate Student type of thing or a regular Princess so I went with the first idea that came to my head!

I hope you enjoy it

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~The Thief’s Deal (Kokichi Oma X Princess S/O)~

Word count: 1.6k

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

Kokichi had always been known as nothing more than a shadow. A husk of his former self. He had been reborn into that of a phantom of the night. Stealing hearts and treasures all while evading the police effortlessly. He was, in layman's terms, a phantom thief.

You had heard his name, well the name ‘Phantom Thief’ countless times. Your father had been trying for months to catch him but to no avail he always seemed to slip through your fathers grasp.

As time grew on the King became angry and you were left to pick up the pieces.

You couldn’t hate him, he was under tremendous stress but you could hate that damned Phantom Thief for the hardships he was putting your family through. But you couldn’t hate this almost invisible Phantom Thief. He was stealing from the rich to give to the poor. You agreed with everything that he stood for. You were torn, but you had to find a way to lessen your fathers stress and get your family back to normal. It was your duty as his daughter... right?

As the Princess you had very little control of the country, but you did have a few assets you could take advantage of.

“Um Miss (Y/L/N), I’m not sure your father would agree with you poking through his study like this. This is all highly confidential material and-”

“Then I’ll be sure to take extra care of it.”

You reached for the pink tote bag resting against your side and gently placed the small notebook on the bottom.

“Y-You intend to take it out of the study?? But Miss (Y/L/N) if this information falls into the wrong hands it’ll be disastrous for your father and the country as a whole!”

“Jane nothing will happen to the book, I promise.”

The maid standing beside you had been arguing against your words for the past hour and a half as you scoured the study for the information you had been looking for. She still didn’t seem convinced but you had found what you were looking for. You were on the hunt and nothing would stop you now.

“Miss-”

“Have Mr. Beckman grab the carriage would you?”

She no longer argued with you and instead bowed in your direction. “Yes ma’am.” And with that was out the door, her black dress billowing behind her in the wind.

And you were finally left alone. You trudged your way back to your room, recalling the way through the maze of hallways you called home.

When you arrived in your extravagantly decorated bedroom you made a beeline straight towards your closet. You didn’t exactly hate wearing the dresses the maids left out for you but you sure as hell weren’t going to explore the town in a dress. You wanted to blend in as much as you could.

Though it was difficult to find anything but dresses in your massive closet. Your parents had always been sticklers for rules and old traditions. You manage to find a purple skirt and a black blouse. It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it was better than walking around in a dress.

There was a soft knock on your door as you finished throwing on a plain black sweater and adjusting the shoulders. “Come on in.”

You could spot Jane out of the corner of your eye and smiled warmly at her. “The carriage is ready Miss.”

“Thank you Jane.”

“Shall I escort you?”

You were quick to throw your hair up in a rather messy ponytail before beaming a bright smile her way. “Of course.”

A faint smile pulled onto her lips and you followed her out the door, holding idle conversation with her as you walked through the rather silent halls. That was okay though, Jane was like a mother to you she had been around a lot more than your biological mother. For all you were concerned she was your mother.

~~~~~~~

As you sat yourself into the rather large carriage you slipped your hand in your bag, dragging out the book you had grabbed from the study.

The castle behind you was but a distant memory as you slipped away into the reading in front of you.

“Stop right here Oliver.”

The carriage came to a stop almost the second you uttered your sentence. The night was young but the streets were still empty and desolate. The road you sat on was a one way and to your right was a small general store while to your left was a rather dark alleyway.

This was it.

Oliver came around the side and the door opened for you. He attempted to grab your hand and help you out but you were quick to deny his help all while maintaining a sweet smile. “I’m okay thank you.”

You started down the alleyway and you heard his feet follow after. “Please stay here Oliver I’ll only be a second.”

He seemed hesitant to let you go by yourself but knew arguing against you would do nothing.

You let out a shaky sigh before steeling your nerves and walking into the alley.

It was silent. Too silent.

The sound of gravel being kicked came from behind you. You felt your body flinch out of fear and turned to look. But there was no one.

And then the sound came from in front of you. It was a loud thump followed quickly by a swishing sound, like a blanket being unraveled against the wind. Another jump escaped you and you turned around to see what it was.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight. You couldn’t exactly see what it was, it was far too dark. The only thing you could make out was its outline, it appeared to be a person. You both stood in stunned silence. You couldn’t say a word and they were doing nothing but staring, occasionally you could see their head tilt to the side like a confused puppy.

Eventually they took slow steps forward until the dim light showed you their face.

It was a boy. With purple hair. Dressed head to toe in a lavish white suit and a white cape flowing beautifully around his body.

And you knew exactly who it was. The Phantom Thief.

“Hello your highness.”

He placed his face only inches from your own, a sly smile curling onto the corner of his lips.

“Y-You’re-”

His hand reached out for your own before he slightly bowed in your direction. “Kokichi Oma. What brings you all the way down here Princess?”

You were quick to pull your hand away from him, trying to hold your tough demeanor. “Kokichi Oma there’s a warrant out for your arrest.” You pointed in his direction, a harsh look in your eyes. “I’m here to turn you in.”

He was silent for a few seconds. You watched his eyes blink and his face contort in clear confusion and surprise. And then he burst out into laughter.

“W-Why are you laughing? You face multiple charges, your life is in serious danger! All of your crimes are cause for public execution!”

He tried to stifle his laughter before straightening his posture and smiling sweetly at you. “You won’t turn me in.”

“What?”

“I can tell just by your face. You don’t want to.”

“I-”

“But why is that?” He slunk his way behind you and rested his hands gently on your shoulder. You could feel his breath on your ear and you shivered at the feeling. “Do you agree with what I’m doing? I’m only stealing what’s rightfully ours.” He moved back in front of you and trailed his finger along your jaw, all the way to the tip of your chin. “I take from the rich and give to the poor. Is that so wrong?” His hand trailed down to the collar of your shirt and you let out a small ‘eep’ sound as he pulled you forward, your chest pressing against his. Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire and you heard a small chuckle escape his throat. “But you wouldn’t really understand that, would you Princess?”

“B-But I do…”

Your words seemed to take him aback but he continued to smile nonetheless. He let out a satisfied hum, sounding almost like a purr and moved to caress your cheek. “Do you now… Perhaps then you’d be interested in a little… deal?”

You tried to pull yourself together, refusing to be putty in his hands. You pulled away from his grasp and crossed your arms, a harsh tone in your voice. You couldn’t fall for his tricks so easily like that!

“What kind of deal?”

“Well, my job is getting a little harder. I’m a  household name now, the rich are worried they’re going to be hit next. They’re on guard. But you,” His finger once again fell to your chin and a smirk fell to his lips. “Can be my woman on the inside.”

“I don’t know… They’d figure it out pretty quickly wouldn’t they?”

“Not if you’re careful.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply to his offer. There was the sound of feet approaching and you heard a sweet voice follow behind it. “Miss (Y/L/N) are you alright?”

It was Oliver. You hadn’t even realized how much time had gone by. Kokichi lifted his head at the sound and smiled sweetly at you. “Think about it. Come here tomorrow.” And with that he leaned in and pressed a soft and gentle kiss on your cheek. Oh god your cheeks must have been tomato red. You could hear him quietly chuckling at you as he pulled away. “I’ll be waiting.”

And with that he was gone. He moved like a shadow. You hadn’t even seen him leave.

But you didn’t worry. You knew this wasn’t the last time you would ever see the Phantom Thief Kokichi Oma.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Sailor.”

Decided to take a break from the main story-line. I want to go back to working with krill for a while, allowing him to experience different kinds of people and situations, so if you have any ideas, I am open, though weather or not I will get to them is another matter entirely. 

Te chopper blades whirled overhead so deafeningly loud that Krill couldn’t hear himself think. Leave it up to the humans to create a piece of technology that got them into the air by attaching a giant fan to the top of it, or giant spinning blades of death. It actually offended him that they didn’t use some kind of hover-craft, which he was sure they had. However, Commander Vir had said that the Navy didn’t have a whole lot of “funding” anymore so their technology tended to be older than dirt.

Krill didn’t think anything would be older than dirt, but stopped short of correcting the human when he realized it was probably just some sort of saying. But now, here he was trapped inside this loud, metal container, feeling the wind buffet them back and forth as Commander Vir adjusted the pedals.

Krill had no idea that the Commander could even fly a helicopter, be here it was. 

The guy could probably fly a cardboard box if it had a big enough engine.

Beside him sat the Navy pilot surprisingly eager to learn from the more experienced man, and the two kept a light string of conversation over the headsets. The second guy was on lend from the Naval office as an assistant of sorts. The commander seemed confused, but apparently it was common for higher ranking officers to have subordinates to lick their boots and hand them things.

Commander vir hadn’t gotten that memo.

The original pilot pointed out the front and the helicopter tilted just slightly.

Krill lifted up a bit to look out the front window, but was mostly blinded by sunlight as it reflected off water.

Commander Vir flew the helicopter in low aiming for the helicopter pad on the back end of the ship.

He managed to maintain a hover just above  the circle surprised when, “It’s moving!”

“Yes sir, we are on water.”

“Its not supposed to be moving.” he said to himself trying to determine the best way to let down.

“Just get her in close commander than drop her when she comes back up.” The pilot instructed, pleased that they could teach something to a superior officer, though the way the man talked it was hard to remember all those fancy ribbons on his dress grey.

He was a pretty good listener too, and didn’t back down from a fight, lowering himself towards the deck and then timing it just so it placed when the ship swung back up.

It was a minute movement, but still could have thrown anyone off.

As soon as they touched down and the commander cut the engines, Krill could feel the light rocking.

He, and the others stepped out onto deck. 

Krill stopped in his tracks eyes staring out at a scene he had only seen through the small windows of the ship. A vast and unending horizon of water on all sides. Tiny white capped waves rolled up and down as the massive steel ship bobbed below him. He turned in a wide circle, staring off at the vast horizons and stretches of water so wide.

They were the only ones here, nothing else in sight.

He grew a bit dizzy.

“Good morning Commander.”

Krill turned to watch as the ships XO (executive officer walked forward to greet the man with a firm handshake. He was surprised at the youth of the commander, he was older than a good portion of his men, but younger than a lot fo them too. The Captain was in his early forties, this man almost young enough to  be his son.

“A pleasure captain.” At his back the Lieutenant stood stiffly waiting to be used for some reason or another.

“I heard you were coming, to what do we owe the pleasure.”

Commander Vir glanced out at the sloshing waves with some unease, “I wanted to come down to observe the operation of your ship, Captain. I am afraid to say that current UNSC protocols are still being made, and I thought Navy and UNSC vessels are similar enough I might due to take some lessons from the way things are run.”

The man smiled, “Well, sir generally the brass doesn’t sail. In the Navy you would have a cushy job somewhere on land behind a desk.”

“String me up when that day comes.”

“You and I feel the same way then. The sea is my life, Been sailing since I was a kid, and I couldn’t imagine what I’d do without her.

Commander Vir nodded, “its flying for me.”

Krill glanced around the ship, watching as men and women worked on objects that he did not know, wearing uniforms he did not recognize. They were led down onto the deck, and Commander Vir stumbled a few times, unsteady on the moving platform.

The captain grinned, easily riding the gentle rocking motion as if they weren’t moving, “Someone has yet to get their sea legs.”

Commander Vir gripped the railing, “Fun fact. I’ve never actually been on a boat, at least not larger than a canoe.

Behind him, Krill simply tried floating to avoid having to move, but found the boat deck moving below him, and a gentle sea breeze pushing him back. In panic he set down on the deck again.

“Seems strange, someone who pilots a ship,”

“No such thing as space legs.” The commander commented gingerly letting go of the railing. We have gravity mats that make it just like earth, and there is no wind or water to make us move. Steadier than riding in a car, and once the acceleration is done there is no way to know you are even moving.

The man shook his head, “Can’t imagine wanting to fly in space, being trapped inside a tin can that, if it malfunctions my eyeballs would be sucked out of their sockets.”

“Actually that doesn’t happen. You would freeze first, while your blood boiled off anyway.”

The man gave him a look, “You’re insane.”

“I’m insane! At least its better than drowning, or being eaten by sharks.”

The captain waved a hand, “I can’t remember the last time someone in the navy actually drowned.”

Commander vir eyed the edge of the ship nervously.

“Anyway, Commander, I am glad we could be of service, truth be told us sailors arent needed all that much anymore now that wars tend to take place in space and off world. Most of the stuff we do includes tracking down pirates and saving dumbass civilians who don’t know what a red sky at morning means.”

Commander Vir stared at hi blankly.

The man frowned, “You don’t know do you.”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Red sky at morning sailors take warning. Meaning there’s going to be bad weather?”

He shrugged, “Why not just use radar for that.”

“The man looked almost offended, “Thousands of years of accumulated knowledge, and you just want to use radar?” 

Krill watched in silence keeping notes in one of his cortical hemispheres as he listened. It was strange, by all rights these two men should have been similar in a lot of ways. When it came right down to it  a UNSC vessel and a Navy one were pretty much the same and included a lot of the same sort of things on board. Even the two men were similar in their almost rabid love of the place they worked. One and knew more about the ocean than krill thought there was no know, while the Commander had a handle on space that no other man in the history of humanity ever had.

To krill’s surprise it turned out there was some actual sill to floating on a large body of water. The man talked about the currents, and the weather patterns, and the way the ship liked to ride them. 

Space vs ocean, and neither man seemed to understand why the other would want to go anywhere near the other’s domain.

The Navy captain also seemed to be having a right old time watching commander vir stumble into things as he adjusted to his “sea legs.”

Krill had no idea what that meant, but he kind of doubted it was what it sounded like. The saying made hi think the human was going to spontaneously grow new legs for walking on the ship, but the more likely explanation seemed that the human body would get used to the constant moving, so the person would no longer have trouble when walking.

Krill didn’t really need sea legs, though he marveled at how the humans could seem to work so normally on a rolling surface when their balance was already unbelievable.

Around the ship, the regular Navy men were more than a bit tickled to see a member of the brass (UNSC or otherwise) wobble about like a ‘drunken’ sailor. Mostly it was funny and partially it made them feel superior to someone who would usually have that edge over them.

Eventually the Commander go the hang of it and accompanied the Captain to the bridge and around the ship to see how things worked taking occasional notes, but eventually ordering the Lt. to do it for him as, “Your fidgeting is making me nervous, so have something to do.”

Krill got stared at, a lot, but that was pretty normal for him, and, on one occasion, a call went out from one of the men on deck, and an entire group of them rushed over to one side, pointing at the water. The captain led them over just in time to watch in awe as a massive creature breached the surface of the water. Krill stepped back as the massive shape slowly tilted backwards and water erupted around it.

The captain turned to look at the commander with a smug expression, “Guess you didn't get to see that in space.”

He was a little less pleased to see the commander smirking at him, “Perhaps not…” he let it trail off there, though his grin was rather telling.

“What! You’re not telling e there are space wales.”

“I am not at liberty to discuss that, captain.”

Krill wasn’t entirely sure if their teasing was friendly or if their rivalry was something more than that.

Either way the captain did get the last laugh, as sitting inside the ship the commander didn’t touch his food head resting back against the wall, eyes closed. As a doctor, krill couldn’t help but notice the parlor that had fallen over his face. He was about to ask the commander if he was feeling ok when the captain strolled up, his turn to look smug and took a seat, “Don’t worry, a lot of people get seasick their first time. But I’m sure that’s not a problem in space.”

“Cosmic hysteria is worse.” The commander muttered.

“A bit green about the gills there. Do you want e to get you a bag.”

The commander frowned, but didn’t open his eyes.

“I thought you were a fighter pilot, shouldn’t you be immune to motion sickness.”

The human was teasing him, but commander Vir felt to sick to respond. He was very much determined to keep his lunch down, but knew that was going to be a losing battle. 

He could hear the sailors laughing as he bolted upright and sprinted to the edge of the deck mouth salivating so badly he was sure he was going to drip on his uniform.

Nothing was funnier to the crew than a member of the brass who couldn’t hold in his lunch on a ship.

Krill personally found a couple of things interesting, number one being the ardent glee that the other humans experienced upon watching the suffering of another. It seemed to be a common theme in humans, enjoying watching someone in power over you get what they deserve It seemed to make underlings feel superior in some way where they normally wouldn't. Through their ribbing was generally light-hearted and nothing worse beyond that.

Second being the human’s strange ability to become sick because of unpredictable rocking motions. He had never seen an alien with that issue, though, upon looking into it with the crew physician, he learned that humans, while having the best sense of kinesthetic awareness out of most of the species, that had to do with the placement of liquid inside the ear canal that moved with the movement of the head.

Constant movement that was in contradiction to the movement of the eyes, or caused the sloshing to become confused inside the ears could cause a reaction in the brain that simulated poisoning.

You see one of the first signs of neurotoxin is dizziness and the body responds with nausea. When movement causes the fluid in the ears to become jumbled and confused, the rain interprets this in the same way and responds with nausea.

Quite fascinating, and Krill couldn’t help feel his own sense of satisfaction knowing he couldnt get seasick.

Although he was ore than happy to get off this moving metal tube of death.

Leave it to humans to figure out a way to make metal float and then decide to spend days at a time on it.

Humans who loved large bodies of water were insane.

Though most humans were insane he supposed 

[musingsofsaturn]

Just Imzadi Things™

Fandom: Star Trek The Next Generation

Ship: The Enterprise Will Riker/Deanna Troi (no I’m not going to stop making that joke)

Rating: T because adult themes are lightly suggested. There are also mentions of death.

Words: 2,100+

Summary: Five things that become perfectly normal when you share a telepathic bond with someone you’re pretending not to be in love with.

Author’s Note: Okay so I read this post from trekkingamongststars and loved the implications of them anticipating each other’s needs and just... the accidental intimacy of their bond? So I was thinking about all the lovely little ‘I’m in love with you but trying not to be because I value our friendship’ things that probably happened as Deanna and Will reconnected. Anyways I am just so soft for these two so I hope you enjoy this fluffy little collection of Just Imzadi Things™.

~ Saturn

O N E

Betazed was a warm planet. Its climate was almost tropical, and the air was often thick with hot humidity that nurtured the vibrant plants of the gardens and natural spaces of the planet. Deanna loved the sensation of sunshine on her skin, enveloping her in comforting warmth. She’d grown up with it, and a sunny day would always remind her of home.

In contrast, the Enterprise was a decidedly chilly starship. With so many people from all different cultures and climates, she understood that the temperature on board had to suit the average comfort level of the crew, but Deanna still sometimes wished that that average level was just a few degrees higher.

Fortunately, she was able to adjust the temperature in her own quarters. It was kept high, and she loved the flood of warmth that escaped when she opened the door and stepped into her private space, where she was free to suit herself and be properly comfortable.

The first few times she’d been in Will’s quarters, the rooms had been the same temperature as the rest of the ship. And why wouldn’t they be? He was familiar with Alaskan winters. He hardly needed the level of warmth she did in order to be comfortable.

But as she started to visit more often, and as their telepathic connection strengthened, the temperature in his quarters had started to increase over time. She knew why; he’d commented on how warm her rooms were the first time he stepped inside, and had begun to pick up on her mild discomfort at how cold the rest of the ship felt. Whether that was telepathy, or just him reading her body language, she couldn’t be certain.

What she could be certain of though, was that Will was gradually raising the temperature in his quarters, even if she wasn’t there to appreciate it. Over a series of weeks, so he himself could acclimatise to it, he’d successfully adapted his own living space to suit her needs and make her comfortable.

That thought made her feel warmer than any Betazoid sun ever could.

~

T W O

The first time Deanna brought Will some food without asking, he hadn’t even realised that he was hungry.

He’d been writing reports and reviews for an hour that had slipped into two, then four, until he didn’t even recognise that time was passing. The chime of his door pulled his mind away from his work abruptly, and his voice was hoarse from lack of use when he invited the guest inside.

Deanna entered tentatively, carrying a bowl of something that smelled fantastic. “I brought you some soup. You need to eat.”

“That’s very kind but I’m not hung-” The statement was interrupted by a ravenous growl from his stomach as she placed the bowl in front of him on the desk, pushing the PADD to one side as she did. She smiled knowingly at him as he quietly said, “Thank you.” He tucked in.

After that, it became a regular occurence between them.

It wasn’t a conscious thought; they never asked the other to bring them food like a waiter. Sometimes, like the first time, they didn’t anticipate that it was needed at all.

But they could sense the subtle need for sustinence within each other. Will knew exactly when to turn up at her office with a chocolate mousse when she’d had a difficult appointment. Deanna seemed to arrive on the Bridge with perfect timing to deliver a coffee when she could sense his focus wavering. And once, they’d met in the corridor on the way to each other’s quarters, carrying food that they hadn’t wanted to eat alone when they knew the other would benefit from some company.

More than the food, it sustained them both to know that the other was thinking about them. To know that their needs were recognised and that someone cared about relieving them, that was the kind of nourishment that would last a lifetime.

~

T H R E E

Starfleet officers are trained to accept that they and their colleagues are at risk while serving. Everyone aboard the Enterprise has a tale of losing someone in the line of duty, whether they be a friend, family member, or lover.

For more senior officers, they even accept that their decisions and orders could be the reason that someone dies. It is a great burden and responsibility, and it takes its toll more than anyone ever seemed to admit.

In front of others, she accepted his cool and collected demeanour with regards to a recent mission. No one could have anticipated that there was an explosive device from a long-ended war still buried at the entrance to a small cave. And Will never could have predicted that ordering a member of his away team to quickly investigate that cave would have caused an explosion that knocked them to the floor and killed the young ensign instantly.

A young Bajoran, the ensign had only been assigned to the Enterprise that week. She had just begun to form friendships, and had shown that was a friendly and compassionate member of the crew. Will had sensed that, with experience, she would have climbed through the ranks of Starfleet. She had a promising career ahead of her.

Had.

The whole time he was discussing the incident with the captain, he maintained his composure. He filed the necessary reports, wrote a sincere statement to the ensign’s family, and later returned to the surface to continue their investigation of the area. To the outer world, he seemed measured; not uncaring and detached, but not emotional and defeated either. He was the model of a First Officer coping with a hard situation.

Deanna recognised his inner turmoil, however. She could sense his guilt, the feeling that he should have been the one to die, not the one who gave the order that snuffed out the woman’s life when she’d barely had chance to live it. She could tell that he was reeling from the terror of being caught on the outskirts of the blast, and the horror of realising that a member of his team hadn’t survived. There was an aching sadness in him; the knowledge that a loving family was about to learn that their daughter wasn’t coming home weighed heavily in his mind.

Later, when his shift had ended and he finally had a chance to return to his quarters and retreat into his thoughts, he barely got through the door before the weight of the day slumped his shoulders and made his large frame seem to collapse in on itself.

But Deanna was waiting for him. Her inky eyes met his as he started to cry, and he knew that she was the only person in the galaxy who could understand how he felt in that moment.

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his body, pressing as much of herself into him as she could. The pressure was good, reassuring, and he returned her embrace with shaking limbs.

His face burrowed into her shoulder as sobs racked through him. She didn’t say a word - there were none that would help anyway. Instead, she continued to hold him close, permitted him to be vulnerable and exposed without any judgement or expectation.

There was nothing she could do to relieve him of his grief, but standing in her embrace, crying like a small child for the first time in years, Will felt the closest thing to peace that he’d experienced that day.

~

F O U R

Deanna awoke with a start.

It wasn’t the first time she had suffered from a nightmare, and it wouldn’t be the last. Gasping for air, she sat up and ran her hands through her hair. The images that had haunted her were already slipping away.

In the dark, she fumbled towards the replicator and quietly got herself a glass of water. Her heart was still racing slightly, adrenaline coursing through her veins, but it had only been a dream and she knew she would be alright.

After finishing her water with slow sips, she went back to bed. She felt calmer, and knew she was tired, and it seemed liked the sensible thing to do. With a few deep breaths, she closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind of thoughts.

Almost an hour later, she was still awake.

She hadn’t been able to get herself comfortable - the material of her pillowcase seemed to scratch at her cheek, it seemed she had one too many limbs to arrange them in a way that suited her, and a sudden leg cramp in her calf had been the final straw.

Deanna didn’t really know why she chose to leave her own quarters, a robe wrapped over her nightgown for propriety’s sake. It was a short walk to Will’s quarters, and it seemed as though no time had passed at all before she arrived at his door.

Hesitating, she almost turned to return to her own rooms. Will was definitely sleeping, and she felt guilty about waking him. Not to mention it seemed so pathetic to go crawling to him because she couldn’t sleep after a bad dream.

However, in the instant that she decided to leave, the door opened for her. She hadn’t pressed to ring for permission, hadn’t overrided any security systems, and there was no way Will had known she was there and just opened the door to let her in and stop her dithering.

No, he had programmed it to open automatically for her, just as it would for him.

Touched at this unexpected display of trust and familiarity, Deanna stepped into his quarters. She made her way to his bedroom, and quietly climbed in to lay beside him.

He didn’t wake up as her arm wrapped over his chest and she snuggled into his back, seeking warmth. Deanna was lulled to sleep at last by his soft breaths, and the knowledge that she was safe and welcome here.

~

F I V E

As the pair of them strengthened their Imzadi bond, it seemed that their feelings throughout the day had become shared.

Will would be sat on the Bridge and feel a sudden rush of satisfaction. He smiled to himself every time he realised where it had come from. He knew that Deanna had had a long day full of appointments with members of the crew, and she had decided to treat herself to a chocolatey dessert. That satisfied burst he felt had been her tasting the first bite of a sundae or piece of cake, perfectly balanced with chocolate, cream, and fudge.

Deanna discovered that watching Will play poker was almost as entertaining as playing herself. When she had folded her hand, and it no longer mattered if she used her empathic abilities, she loved to zone in on Will’s feelings, and he opened his mind to hers when she was no longer playing. In many ways, she became his ‘tell’, as she had to work hard not to grin when she experienced a rush of mischevious energy when he bluffed, which was only amplified when the bluff worked.

Will came to recognise how the people Deanna interacted with could affect her mood. He knew when she was with Beverly, because he could physically feel her mind relaxing over their telepathic link. He also knew when the two were engaging in salacious gossip, as a feeling of giddy curiosity came over her as Beverly disclosed various secrets. The Imzadi bond between Will and Deanna made it so he knew exactly who she liked and disliked, and to what extent. And he once learned just how strong that bond could be when Lwaxana Troi made a comment that was so intensely irritating to Deanna that it made Will’s eyes roll without warning from four miles away.

Deanna learned that she could always get an honest opinion on her outfits, whether Will knew he was sharing it or not. She never minded the flood of attraction that leapt from his mind to hers when he saw her in some of her more flattering dresses. People can’t control their natural impulses of attraction like that, and she had learned not to read into it. However, she knew that Will would be embarrassed if she ever acknowledged his more lustful feelings, so she politely pretended not to pick up on those feelings when they arose.

Will spent years being convinced that he was learning to empathically block his more erotic feelings from reaching her mind. Since she never even flinched when his feelings became far more than friendly when she walked into a room in a certain blue dress, he was certain that he could appreciate her beauty and his own fantasies without it reaching her.

It was only when he arrived at her quarters in a particularly revealing v-neck wrap one evening and she wasn’t quick enough to mask the warmth of attraction that filled her mind (and by extension, his), that he realised just how much their telepathic bond had probably been betraying him all along.

[mydearesthrry]

places we won’t walk (chapter one) || peter parker

summary - the doors at midtown seem a little boring, but when you get introduced to someone you seem to remember, what happens when they seem to remember you too?

word count - 2.9k (wow shes gettin better!)

pairings - peter parker x fem!reader

warnings - like mild mention of s*xual assault, angst if you squint really hard, mj being a softy for you, mj being a lowkey bi, peter being stupid as always, y/n calling peter a colonizer.... thats it ok enjoy

a/n: so i know i last updated in october, but as u all saw i have a 25 days of xnas thing going on (PLS I WROTE THE A/N LIKE A MONTH AGO PLUS I FORGOT ABOUT THE XMAS THING DISREGARD) so pwww updates will be slow (as if they werent already omg) but the next chapter will be arriving hopefully, fingers crossed, on xmas eve or xmas! also, are you guys watching the new euphoria episode? also, i’ve stopped using the word ‘stuttering’, as it may be ableist, and i’d never wanna come off as insensitive. anyway lmao, enjoy chapter one, the trials and tribulations of hitting someone in the nuts.

also side note psa: biggest thank you to @blossomparkers for helping me so much w this chapter. i owe it all tooooo u lani yani. thank u for everything !!!!!

series masterlist | regular masterlist | series playlist

(gif not mine!)

when y/n y/m/n stark was in her early years, she was never aware of the impact her father would and did hold over her life, and in turn, the whole world. for the longest time, you’d always assumed that your father wasn’t real, and everything that had been told to you by malicious family members who were jealous over your father’s “successes” had been lies, and you had it believed yourself. no one would even think that you were tony stark’s daughter until it had been mentioned. tony’s snarky attitude had been a character trait that you’d gotten, and you always took pride in your humor and attitude.

the story of your mother and tony had been messy and all over the place. from a drunken hook-up followed by multiple days of morning sickness, to a surprise pregnancy test, the storyline of your parents had been.. well.. interesting to say the least. you never focused on your family’s history, solely based on the fact that you didn’t have two fucks to give about your family history, but you also never knew your father which was-- bizarre. 

when tony had found out about you, he claimed it was a drunken accident, a mistake, and one he made when he was “less responsibly a stark”, which was actually just some fucking bullshit, but he didn’t wanna admit that he hooked up with some random chick at a bar that he thought was hot.

since you had been raised by a mother who was barely there, you had to raise yourself. you were kinda street smart and book smart, and you were always smart when it came to books, because you were the type to want to learn-- unlike others.

when you were in your teen years, you had tabs on you and the media on you 24/7 to make sure you didn’t royally fuck up. the unwanted attention became too much when you started realizing that people didn’t want you for your personality, they wanted you for your title. but this was after you moved from brooklyn. nuvale and peter never saw you as some “movie star”, or some famous person in the media because you weren’t. but when you had grown to learn what your father did, he had forced you to not fuck up to maintain his-- somewhat okay reputation. 

you always wanted that superstar life, as a fantasy of course, but when you got to it, you realized the cliche-y-ness of it all. you’d idolized the famous women in the media-- idolized how they looked like. you realized fairly quick how fucked up the media truly is. you realized how things really aren’t as they seem. its not just the galas that look extravagant, or getting to wear a fancy new gucci outfit every night. it honestly was a whole bunch of other shit you wouldn’t even imagine. it comes with the no privacy thing- people stalking you in public, the death threats, so much shit that wouldn’t happen as common if you were just anonymous.

being an avenger (basically), your dad had natasha teach you the ropes; the basic rules of how to kick someones ass. it was a handbook that the women of the avengers had created, and it had all the rules and regulations of how to spar someone on the team, and basically how to righteously beat someone's ass up. it was never really something you found too important, but as you grew older, you realized that it was very important to know, especially since you were a girl.

despite your harsh remarks and snarky attitude, your father always knew how to hit a sensitive point in you that always managed to break you down. you never quite understood why he would want to make you feel worse about yourself than you already felt, but regardless, you always felt underappreciated by him. being a stark, you were expected to be a genius, get over the top grades, and constantly be able to keep up, but with your luck, you were graced with depression, social anxiety, and a 4.0 gpa. fun, right? 

wrong.

when you were 11, you had made friends with the kids in your apartment halls, and you learned that their names were nuvale jones and peter parker, and you were basically the golden trio. you were hermione, peter was ron, and nuvale was harry. which, now that you look back at it, makes much more sense than any other arrangement. you also had another friend, harry osborn, but once he moved away, there was no way for you to talk to him anymore. he had moved across the country to california, and from then, it was just you, peter, and nuvale. your best friends ha been there for you for what seemed like decades, although you only knew them for about three.

peter was the boy with the rosy cheeks who little 12 year old you would get butterflies in her tummy. or the type of boy to bring you an extra snack if you weren’t able to pack it the night before. he was the type of boy to walk you to the nurses office if you got hit with a dodgeball. he was the type of boy to fall for someone like you. but he didn’t. or so you thought. 

little prebubescent y/n was an awkward girl who thought the world would be on her side when she needed it the most, or that whenever you needed peter or nuva, they would be there. you didn’t think your best friend would stop talking to you after you had moved away. you were too naive to know that peter liked you, and you were too naive to know that he had liked you back, but you wanted to believe what your brain would tell you, so you decided to flush your feelings down the drain and forget about them, which, in hindsight, was a pretty shitty idea. who would’ve known?

your alarm clock blared loudly from beside you, causing you to let out a loud groan in protest. you hit the side of your head angrily, then whining and rubbing the spot which you hit. whines and loud sighs fell from your lips as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and pulled the covers over your head, knowing what would come next after you would try to snooze your alarm.

“good morning, miss stark, how could i be of service to you this morning?” friday’s voice echoed through your large bedroom. you peaked your eyes and forehead from beneath the covers, your eyes slowly starting to adjust to the light that was pulled through the big blinds which were now open. 

“mmm, fri, just tell happy to get the car ready, ill be ready in a few min- nevermind, tell him to get ready in thirty, im probably gonna fall asleep in the shower.” you croaked, taking your phone from the charger which was on your nightstand. you slipped on your bunny slippers and turned on the heater in your room, the draft filling your room with cold air throughout the night.

-------

once you walked through the large industrial doors of midtown’s cafeteria, everyones voices started to drop into sharp hushed whispers, making you roll your eyes and pull your hood up over your face. you pulled your airpods from your pockets into your ears and tried your best to avoid any and all eye contact with anyone you did end up coming into contact with. you walked over to the food bar where you grabbed a red school tray and plastered on your best smile to the lunch ladies who work oh so hard to make sure you all were fed. as you walked through the line, you could feel the intensified stares on you, making your back erupt in chills. you didn’t like to be watched, and the fact that you were a so-called celebrity didn’t help your cause in any way. 

“hey.” a low voice called from behind you. it was a girl with curly hair with gorgeous light brown skin, and a jawline that would cut you. you were almost astonished by her beauty, but you remembered the facade you had to hold, especially to strangers that you didn’t know.

“hey?” you asked unsurely, wondering if she was with the media or not. which was something that tended to happen quite a bit.

“don’t worry, i’m not with the press. you just seem interesting.” she said in a monotone voice, but still with a strong look of seriousness on her face. you giggled softly when your eyes locked and your faces went totally still, making the girl in front of you laugh as well. she held out her hand in front of you, while also balancing her tray and book in the other hand. you placed yours into hers and shook it, smiling when she told you her name.

“michelle jones.” she smiled, your throat getting a little tight at her last name, and you had to admit that it struck a little chord within you, but you quickly cleared it from your thoughts and introduced yourself as well.

“y/n stark. pleasure to meet you, jones.”

“pleasure to meet you too.”

“so, i get that you’re new here,” she started walking, inviting you to walk along with her. “what- what are you doing here? i mean i get you’re smart and all, but this is a nerd school; you literally could’ve gone anywhere, so, might i ask, why here?”

“hm, interesting question. seriously i don’t know. my dad and i don’t really get along so he makes the decisions and i tell him if i like it or not. which by the way, i’m gonna have to stay near you-- you’re the only one making this bearable for me right now.” you snorted, nudging your elbow to hers. 

“hm, daddy issues. great song, love the artists.” she smirked, making you shoot your head back in loud laughter, gaining some side eyed glances from a few people sitting at the tables around you.

“so, where are we sitting? i usually nev-”

“hey mj!” you were interrupted by a boyish laugh and hoots and hollers coming from a table two tables ahead of you. 

“jesus fucking christ. what? just because i got some and you didn’t doesn’t mean that you have to be that fuckin’ loud about it.” she grumbled, placing her tray down, slinging the backpack on her right shoulder beside her. you looked at her with a nervous but curious glint in your eyes. she gave you a knowing look which said, ‘just go with what i say’, making you nod in understanding.

“woah! holy shit! i m- i mean woah- nice to- nice to meet you!” the boy fumbled over his words, looking at you and michelle in disbelief, shaking his friends shoulder and poking at his cheek.

“nice cut, g. looks nice.” you said to him, giggling as you stuck your straw into the mini juice box.

“o-oh, thanks… g?” he said back to you, observing your looks with a confused expression written on his face making you giggle at his confusion. 

“peter! look! y/n stark is at our table!” he whisper shouted to his friend, making you look at michelle with a smile on your face and playfully rolling your eyes. she looked back at you, rolling her eyes as well, gesturing to her head as if saying ‘idiots’, making you giggle and turn back to them. 

“so, bowl cut dude, what’s your name?” you nodded to him, picking at your salad with the blac spork that was so cordially given to you by mj. 

“n-ned, ned leeds.” he smiled sheepishly.

“and you, colonizer, what’s your name?” you tapped on the table, alerting the boys attention. you could hear michelle and ned hollering and snickering from their seats, but decided to keep your poker face rolling. but i mean, how couldn’t you? the look on his face was absolutely priceless. 

“peter park- wait did you just call me a colonizer?” he cut himself off in his own sentence, looking at his other friends for confirmation, to which they nodded, still cackling at the fact that you had indeed call him a colonizer.

“peter park, hm?” you teased, ignoring the way you hesitated and ignoring the way your chest felt heavy when the name of peter was said.

“n-no thats not my name-” he said, tripping over his words, making you let out a chuckle. 

“i’m messing with you. with what you’ve given me, i could only guess your name is peter parker?” you rested your chin on your hand, engaging in the awkward conversation.

“yeah. thats my name.” he said more confidently, giving you a tight lipped smile.

“nice to meet you, parker.”

“you too, stark, my pleasure.”

----

after the small encounter with your new found friends, you had gone back to your respective classes, which meant that your next class had peter in it. after you had split up, you decided to get there early to avoid any commotion surrounding you.

as the boring class continued, you heard the loud clicking of high heels in the hallways, which had to be one person and one person only.

“stark,” someone shouted from the door which swung open. low and behold, in front of you was the prickly bitch, your principal, mrs cunningham. “come with me, eugene’s parents have requested a meeting with you and your father considering that you had just hit their son in the private areas!” everyone snickered and laughed. finally someone had stood up to flash’s shit. 

“y- you punched flash in the nuts? i thought that was just a rumor?” peter stuttered, looking at you in disbelief.

“yeah, the fuck was i gonna do? let him flirt with me? no. that bitch tried to grab my ass. i’m a stark, i was raised better than that.” you whispered to him, packing your bag as you did so.

“hm, guess you’re right. well, good luck stark.” 

“thanks parker.”

--------

once you arrived in the principals office, you saw what seemed to be his mother in one of the seats decked out in expensive pearls and diamonds. typical.

“little miss over here punched my son in the privates! i will not allow this to happen!” fuck. you thought; another one of those stuck up cunty parents.

“pfft, probably paid to get their son into here.” you muttered under your breath, playing with your protection bracelets incase anything was to ever happen.

“wHAT? mrs cunningham, i will not allow this child to talk about my son this wa-”

“hello! i was called in?” a voice interrupted, one you could only peg as your father.

“ahh! mr stark! you’re finally here!” your hilarious excuse as a principal said cheerfully.

“i am! and i am here to.. come and have a meeting about my daughter's- behavior?” he asked questiongly, already seeing the triumphant and cocky look on your face. he knew you weren’t at fault, and you were gonna lie your pretty ass out of it.

“well, mr stark, we have a student in the nurses room due to the actions of your daughter!” she looked at him menacingly. he shook his head with a smile on his face and walked over to you, grasping your shoulders in his hands.

“well kiddo, wanna explain what and why you did what you did?” he smiled, giving you two taps on your shoulder, already knowing what was next. you two had a pretty good acting schedule when it came to it, when in reality, you despised eachother.

“sure daddy! eugene had been hitting on me for several days now, and even found my private social medias in use to.. how can i say this, use me for my fame? he tried talking to me, very inappropriately on several occasions, and even went as far as to try and grab me in areas in which i find extremely inappropriate, without my consent, might i add, which doesn’t seem okay with me. does it seem exceptional to you, mrs thompson?” you asked, while only keeping your eyes on his mother.

“why, i am so sorry miss stark! his father will be in contact, i did not raise my baby to be this way! im sorry for any inconvenience he may have caused you!” she gasped, raising a hand to her heart. 

“it’s okay, i just request, may this never happen again? i would not like my privacy to be invaded, much less from your son, and can i please ask that he never try to hit on me, nor any girls at this school ever again? i can only imagine how many other girls this may have happened to, mrs thompson.” you sighed, your eyes filling up with fake tears. you reached up to touch your fathers hand, tapping it twice back, knowing that you both had just won.

“never again miss stark, once again, i am so sorry this happened to you.” 

“it’s okay. now mrs cunningham, shall we see our way out?” your father answered for you, looking over at the old white woman who looked like a piece of cheese. she could only nod in awe, giving you the cue to pick up your bags and walk proudly to the door.

“thanks i guess.” you muttered, pulling out your airpods once more, hoping to seal the conversation with your father.

“yeah yeah, no problemo.” he muttered back, avoiding eye contact and stuffing his hands in his  pockets. 

once you reached the door, you remembered that you had left something in your locker, and informed your dad that you’d be going back to get it. he all but nodded and looked back at his shoes before trudging to the car.

once you entered the seemingly halls, much to your surprise, you saw a scrawny teenage boy lifting open a set of lockers, which you didn’t even know was possible, and pulling out a red and blue suit. once you saw who the hands belonged to, your mouth fell agape as you gasped,

“peter?”

[aggresivelyfriendly]

‘Tis the Damn Season- Chapter 2

Winter Wonderland

Hello loveys! Here is chapter two, a new year, a new world, a new Harry video! Thank you to @dirtystyles for fixing my tenses, which I promptly messed up by revising and adding. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Happy reading- reblogs are love!

Emma was annoyed before she even caught her flight, but she loved airports, so she got lost in watching the peculiar things people did in the there to sublimate what was probably just anxiety. She'd once watched a boys' trip, maybe a bachelor party, get on a plane and begin toasting at 5:30 am. The groom had almost bought the whole plane a round, but one of his mates had stopped him. She assumed this wasn't his first beer of the day, but maybe it was the last of the night before?

People acted different in airports.

That had been her first flight to Holland. When she went to her interview at Wageningen University and Research Center. She really needed to impress, she'd pressed her outfit more than she had ironed anything since she'd been taught to do it. This was her dream school and the climate research they did was groundbreaking and she wanted to be part of it so much that she was willing to do whatever it took. Beyond the heavy course load she could expect during the regular school years, the top students got amazing summer work or internships. She'd promised herself she would not be going home for breaks for some time. Honestly she was just fine with that. There wasn't much left for her in Holmes Chapel.

There wasn't much in Holmes Chapel at all.

She'd wanted to move from the little village the minute they'd moved there when she was eleven. Sure it was cute, picturesque and maybe something out of a Jane Austen novel, but Emma did not read much Pride and Prejudice. Though she definitely had seen Mr. Darcy come out of the pond. Honestly, she was more of a nonfiction girl, and she like investigative reporting. She'd missed London pretty much immediately and begged to go back for months. It was a time in her life she would have called the absolute worst, until it became the foundation for the best years. Emma made really good, motivated friends. Big dreams were common in little Holmes Chapel, so Emma fit right in. It may have never felt like home exactly, but she made a home of those friends.

Gemma was one of them. She had done her share of Austen reading. Reading in general, and she had the sweetest family. Her little brother Harry was so nice to their mum, though he loved nothing more than bugging Gemma. Like all little brothers. She'd heard at least, Emma was an only child.

All her parents' hopes and dreams rested right on her shoulders.

But theirs weren't nearly so weighty as her own. Even then she knew she was going to save the planet, or at the very least reduce the number of climate refugees.

Now, after two summers in Reykjavik, she was more into sustainable energy and zero waste production, but she was still trying to change the climate game.

She would really rather be going back to Iceland now. A friend had invited her to see the Northern Lights. They were most active in the winter and she'd only caught glimpses of them during her summer internships. It may have been the experience of a lifetime.

But her mother had laid on a major guilt trip. Emma hadn't been back to little Holmes Chapel in two years. She'd come home that first Christmas because she was tired, overwhelmed, still adjusting to her school schedule, and a little homesick. Her mother told her so. She'd even skipped the Twist's Christmas party, which was the shindig of the season. She'd slept right through it, and only seen Gemma at the pub later. She hadn't been up for company, but Gemma was family.

This year? After a year's absence, she'd be going. And she'd receive the hometown-hero-returns treatment. Though she was sure her reception at the airport would consist of her mum with a single sign. When she did make it to the pub, she might see a few friendly faces besides Gemma. Last time? Since she'd missed the party, she didn't have anything to contribute to the discussion. She'd just listened to everybody else rehash it. Normally, that would be fine, but she already felt removed, and had always felt a bit like a screw among nails in Holmes Chapel, so she was determined to go to the party this year. She had all kinds of plans, how many hours she'd socialize, rest, and read.

The flight was easy at least, and the train up to Manc doubly so. She liked to sleep on trains, something about the rocking, and she resumed her old habit of sleeping wrapped around her backpack.

"Welcome home, love!" Her mother shouted and Emma actually got a little misty, just like her Mum. Maybe she should try to get home more than once a year, but there's just so much she wants to accomplish. She even had a list. All the things she wanted to do before she turned thirty. It's been revised of course, she'd not unrealistic. Once the list is complete, she can have a life outside her ambitions, like a real boyfriend.

There's not much time for anything but hook-ups for the next ten years., and Emma was ok with that.

Up til now. She might need another pass at her bullet points, or to at least read her goals again when she got to the Twist's new brick beauty of a house. Harry had bought his mum a new home, one not watched as closely by his obsessive fans. They hadn't found this one yet.

Emma could see why they followed him around so, and why some people risked it all for a certain face. His face, his very famous, gorgeous face.

It was so weird that Harry wasn't just Gemma's little brother who grew up cute anymore. His music wasn't really her style, though some of the songs were catchy and Emma did like his latest album. She caught herself humming about life stories long after she heard it, and she seemed to hear his latest single playing in lots of shops and restaurants, even in Holland.

At the party, she also found herself in the same room as Harry more often than she can find an excuse for. Her eyes also seemed to find him a lot, she knew because of how many times she had to whip her head away quickly. As a tactic, that didn't work because he was always either already looking at her,or he immediately turned like he knews where she was. Maybe her gaze had weight, or she was as subtle as an axe.

When he smirked at her the tenth time their eyes lit upon each other, she choked on her wine.

What the fuck?

She'd finally got herself calmed from that little encounter. Mostly because she left the room to find a loo. The water she splashed on her face was cold and woke her up. "What are you doing, girl?" Emma asked her reflection but found that she couldn't help but smile at herself, and bite her lip. The flush on her cheeks was lovely; she could blame the wine, everyones favorite excuse.

An hour later she was pleasantly tipsy, the kind of buzz you could maintain and still wake up the next day not regretting, and she'd gone to the kitchen to grab another glass to nurse her merry state. "Be right back. We need another round!" She was calling back to Gemma when she bumped into a tall lanky body. She caught his hips with one hand and found them with just enough give to grip. "Oof!" She exclaimed before looking up to see how much damage her wine had done. Good thing she drank white, there was a growing spot ok his sweater. Wait a second! Then she coasted her head up the lovely lilac sweater toward his face. "That's my sweater." She said first off, bopping his chin.

"Um, no, mine now." Oh, his voice was adorably thick with drink too. "You give it to Gem or something?"

What was he talking about? Her eyes stayed with his and she was kinda trapped in his greens when she realized he meant the sweater. She had, right. "I'm yeah, years ago. Was my favorite and we shared it a lot. I decided she should have it before I moved. And I guess she decided you should have it when you moved. Though I expect your life change was a little different than mine. Yours was like overnight and mine a life long plan, and oh my god, Emma stop talking." She would have kept rambling except, well, he kissed her, right on the mouth and held his overfilled lips to her own. No, overfilled wasn't true. They were full, but not crazy big, they just were so plump at the edges. God, when had she thought about Harry's lips so much.

Right now, as much as she could think of anything, it was Harry's lips. She'd relaxed into his rhythm and was following his lead when her free hand took on a mind of its own and coasted from his hips up his back and into his hair. He groaned a little before he disengaged and then chuckled.

"Well," he said as the offending hand went to her mouth. Maybe she did need to stop drinking. That was bold, unlike her, and strange. But wait! What just happened? Why did he kiss her?.

"Huh?"

"I think that beat my last mistletoe kiss and I'd convinced myself that was impossible!" He was giving her a knowing look, like a wink in his smile. Did he kiss somebody else tonight? She looked up at him and tried not to be annoyed, or feel jealous, or focus on the shape of his mouth, still a little wet from her kiss. Was he just hanging out by the mistletoe like a weirdo? Seemed odd for a bloke people were lining up to meet, let alone kiss.

"Why'd you do that?" She found her voice to ask. It was rusty, like she hadn't just been laughing and talking for hours with people she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed.

"You bumped into me under the mistletoe. I assumed you wanted me to." Well, she did while he was kissing her, but now he was being a bit of an ass.

"Um, you were just in the way..."

"Well, I'll have to find myself in your path as often as possible then." Ok, that was cute, a bit cocky, like the smirk on his face. Then his face flushed and his dimples were so deep and she decided that shift, from smirky pop star to hometown mumma's boy was the best quick change she had ever seen. "Ah, see, that got you to smile!" He bopped her nose and she knew her own dimple pressed in even further.

"Nah, you're a little shit, but I like your smile. Especially when you blush." The color he turned then made her laugh out loud. She felt drunk when she realized how long they'd been staring at each other grinning. She was counting her drinks a second later when he caught her off guard again.

"Where'd you just go?"

"Wha'?" Oh boy, she'd dropped her t, she was really home now.

"We were having a moment." He motioned between their faces. "Then you went in your head. Lost your attention, didn't like it at all."

Then he caught her hand, their fingers entwined together like their lips moments before. It was hot in there. Emma shook her head and glanced around, but she didn't untangle them. She looked at her boots and felt shy. But Emma wasn't shy, Harry used to be shy, though now he was bolder than her, apparently.

"Listen," he started and she looked up to his eyes again. When had they gotten so attractive? What had gone on with him in the last couple years? Other than the international superstardom she supposed, but he'd grown into himself, like expanded his skin and presence. He was cute, but all she could think was that the end of puberty was rarely so damn kind. His fingers even seemed attractive, long and slim and she was imagining him playing piano, but then the instrument was her body, and damn, she was in her head again. She could feel that her eyes widened comically. She knew her pupils were blown. When was the last time she'd gotten laid? Apparently too long if holding hands had her imagining unspeakable things and holding in moans.

He smirked then, she guessed he knew where she went then. "Listen," he leaned in close and she nodded, their noses brushed. He exhaled and her lips tingled. "Where are you staying?"

"Huh?" She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say, but that wasn't it.

He giggled, and it was cute enough that Emma felt a splash of awareness hit her face. She looked around to see if anybody saw them flirting if she could disengage her gaze. "Are you at your parents?"

"Oh, um yeah?"

"Are you sure?" He laughed then and the brush of his thumb across the back of her hand was warmer than the mulled wine in her belly.

"No, I'm sure, just not sure why you are asking." She nudged him and realized a bit too late that her nipples touched him first, she was only half sorry this top meant no bra when she felt the friction.

It was his eyes' turn to widen. "Um," he exhaled and she missed his eyes when he quickly glanced down her dress like there might be a cookie there and then up quickly like he remembered he wasn't supposed to have any sweets. "Ok, um," he said after he visibly took hold of himself, "I was just hoping you had a room above the pub or something."

She knew her face called him idiot better than her mouth could.

He rolled his eyes, "I know, it was a shot in the dark!"

"Did you expect me to slide you my room key if I did?" Emma flashed her eyebrows like she wasn't imagining him finger fucking her with his piano hands a moment ago. "Isn't that your move?" She teased, kind of. She imagined he knew his way around hotel rooms, and women in them.

"Heeeey," he was being cute but the corners of his eyes dropped a moment and the green dulled. "It's not like that."

Emma scoffed.

"Well, I mean," his other hand found hers and now if anyone was watching them they were getting a show. "If it was like that, I wouldn't say no, but just want to hear about Holland, seems so amazing, and where you are in the summers..."

She could see him racking his brain.

"Iceland." They said together. And then giggled together too.

"You been keeping tabs on me?" She leaned forward and enjoyed the brush of him on her again. He shivered.

"Yeah, always admired you." He looked at her through his lashes. "I'd like to hear more reasons you're the most impressive person I've ever met."

"But I don't have a place." She reminded him.

"If I got one?"

"What?" She thought she knew what he was asking, but she wanted a minute to think about her answer, to quiet the resounding YES that echoed in her body and her mind. Because he might have said it wasn't like that, but they were chest to chest and had been holding hands since they kissed moments ago.

He looks down chagrined at his pigeon toes, before his gaze lit on their hands, then her face. "If I got a room at the Vicarage? Would you come with me? Really! We can really just talk." He assured and then the cocky boy who found his stride in hotel room assignations showed out, "if you want." Those dimples were deadly.

"Can it be the Boar's Head?" She knew she'd showed her cards, by asking for a room the town over.

He nodded and grinned like he'd just hit the hotpicks. "It can be the Boar's Head." He nodded like a dashboard bobble head. "I have to make nice here a bit longer, but I'll call now, and put your name on, so you can go when you're ready."

They'd been standing close for just a few more seconds when Gemma said- "Harry! Get off. God you are such a flirt!" But she was in her cups too, so they laughed it off.

The next hour, Emma stayed near Gem, but her eyes tracked Harry. Once, he came by and stole a sip of Gem's cocktail off her and Emma was glad her friend's ire distracted her, because Emma was watching him giggle like a fiend and the contraction of his throat. When their eyes met, she knew hers made a promise. One she wanted to keep.

So now she was alone in a couple of quaint rooms a town over, waiting to have sex with Gemma's little brother, Harry Styles.

She was torn, half of her wanted to open the bottle she'd swiped from the alcohol table at the party. The other half wanted to call an Uber and go back to her parents' house, where she should have stopped and grabbed some clothes so she wouldn't have to do the walk of shame.

But getting clothes would have meant forethought; she will deny that, especially to herself.

Emma had just opened the uber app and cursed their rural area when she heard a key in the lock.

Like a gun at the races.

They were never going to just talk. She'd just dropped her phone on the couch before Harry laid the first kiss on her.

The first kiss she planned to really remember, that is. Their mistletoe kiss had caught her off guard enough that she could only remember the feelings, not the details.

Yet, she was here, kissing him in a rented room after sneaking out of his mum's Christmas Eve party, on the strength of those feelings.

The kiss started strong and sweet, just like she takes her tea. He didn't taste like tea, he tasted like wine, Merlot maybe, but it could have been any red. And his tongue had this delicious slither to couple with its intoxicating flavor. She was in for a penny when she rode over here, but now there was no way she was going anywhere but to bed with him, no matter how pound foolish. He was nipping at her bottom lip and mouthing at her jaw before he sucked an almost mark into her collarbone and love bites onto the sides of her neck. He was just about to hit a particular sweet spot while working off her clothes, his hands were at her zipper. The cheeky boy, and she felt like they should at least hit pause even if stop was off the table.

"Harry," she moaned, or breathed, it was a sound she'd never made before.

"Hmmm?" He asked without stopping any of his forward momentum.

"I thought we were gonna talk." That one was like a laugh, there was a trill in her voice certainly.

"We'll talk afterwards." He said it like a statement, but looked to her for confirmation. At her nod, her skirt dropped and his hands were all over her bare ass above the stockings she'd worn to feel sexy but hadn't expected anyone to see. She normally would have worn tights. Thick ones, certainly, in Amsterdam. It would have been smarter here too. It was at least as cold. She'd been feeling that mix of confidence and self consciousness one gets when seeing people from your past when you think you've leveled up. She wanted to feel her best, look her best. Sexy, even if no one was interested. She's thankful, both for his interest and her unintended preparation. When he caught the sides of her knickers while her shirt and bra were as untouched as his clothes, she figured she needed to get with it. She'd been clutching his shoulders and his gorgeous hair instead of doing anything of use to their current pursuit.

Emma pulled at his shirt until it came over his messed up disheveled hair and laughed at the hodge podge of black ink haphazardly spread over his torso and one arm. "What's this then?" She said between licks of his tongue.

"After, we talk after!" He'd gotten her shirt unwrapped. She liked that detail of the shirt too, a sexy secret, like her matching bra. He pulled back to stare and was distracted long enough for her to give him another look over. He does look sexy in his decorated skin.

"What do they mean?" She liked things to make sense, her world was ordered, scientific.

Harry shrugged. "Lots of different things. Or nothing. Now can we please go to bed and we can discuss my stupid tattoos after I've had you."

"Oh fuck,'' was all she could say to that. He smirked and hoisted her up his hips to carry her through the open frame to the bedroom. He pulled her knickers free as soon as she was done bouncing.

She'd just about caught her breath when she saw him go for the button of his jeans. She lost it again when his thick bulge became visible and he pushed his tight jeans forcibly down his thighs. "Damn!" She looked at him with a glint.

He mounted the bed and spread her open, kissed her right knee over her stocking, which he seemed intent in keeping on, and looked pointedly at her center. She was swollen, his eye contact with the evidence didn't help. "Damn!" He echoed and she would have laughed but Harry, Gemma's sexy little brother, was kissing up her right thigh, with just a few licks and nips to her hip creases and so damn close to where she wanted him before he was testing the fuck out of her by kissing and licking and loving her left thigh. Ignoring her desperate need.

"Fuck, Harry. Please." She'd got the bedspread balled in her hands and she would normally have removed that before considering getting into the bed but she was also usually in pajamas and alone.

The filthy things he was saying were way worse than whatever could have been on the bedspread. Though she enjoyed them a great deal more, and it made her happy to have taken off everything already.

Harry had finally gotten to the main course. Only After her begging got loud enough to be heard by the room next door and the innkeeper, she won't make eye contact with anyone tomorrow. Maybe not even Harry, if he stayed. Emma had his full attention now, she could learn about all the things his mouth could do. The wet flat of his tongue caressed her like she was a bit of deliciousness and sunk down to find her creamy center.

"Fuck!" She yelped when he sealed his mouth over her for a tight suck and rub until she was rolling and writhing and fighting against the arms banded around her thighs. He laid one across her belly to hold her down.

"Do you like that?" He kept going because her answer was obviously yes. When the arm not restraining her passion made its piano fingered way between her thighs to do the thing she'd imagined earlier, sliding in tightly where she was wet and wanting, she clenched down on his three fingers and said his name.

He slid up her body and reached for the condom, but Emma had gotten her head back around to stop him before he got it on. She hated the taste of rubbers, and she'd like to know his flavor first. "Wait." She leaned forward between his legs and stroked him base to tip. He really was well favored, and not just from the neck up. She pressed his length to his stomach and licked the seam from his balls around and up to his head before she got a mouthful of him. Now he was her dessert. She didn't even think to try the pies and things at the party, she had been so preoccupied with the taste she'd had of him. It was but an appetizer for this. He leaked on her tongue and she moaned and hummed.

"Jesus! Emma! Stop, I'm gonna!" He pushed her back. And she was a little mad he'd taken away her sweetie. "Enough. I'd like to get inside you."

That was a suggestion she could take. So, she lay back and thought of anything but England while he stroked his skinned cock and spat over the tip. God. The way his stomach flexed caused an aftershock to recapture her. "Harry?" His name a plea. His knees hit the bed and her heels pressed him toward her, toward them.

"God, I've never seen you like this!" She'd have to ask him what he meant by that, later. Then he nodded, using his thumb to press his cock head inside the tight ring of muscle at the top of her entrance. Except he was a little low.

"Uhh!" She glanced down and grabbed him to redirect. "Wrong one." She tried not to laugh.

"Sorry, might be a touch too eager." He confessed: She's now laughing, openly. "Hey! It may have went right in, as wet as you are?"

Now she'd be indignant if he wasn't so ridiculous. "Are you really complaining about how wet my pussy is?"

"No, no, that would make me an idiot right?" He asked and found the right spot to start pushing in.

This was always her favorite part, and since this was her favorite fuck already, she knew the pop when he got the lip of his head in would be enough to begin her tip over the edge.

She moaned even before he caught the exact right angle to square her desire and she clutched his back and lifted her bottom to chase his withdrawal. "It would, god, you're perfect, an idiot."

"Oh God, Em!" She liked that. And the kisses to her mouth and chin and neck. Messy and wet and out of control. He'd gone from deliberate and self possessed to a man overcome as he rolled his hips up and into her and against that delicious place inside.

"Harry, don't stop. I'm close." Her head fell back when he slowed down just enough to draw out her orgasm, bring it to the surface and ride it home. He stroked her through and then brought his hands under her ass to lift her pelvis up to his driving thrusts, more deliberate and direct than the ones he used to get her off. She watched his face scrunch, and then open, his jaw down and his eyes closed until he smiled and licked his lips.

It's that face she decided she wanted to see as much as she could.

And she did, it was made better when he bit his lip and laughed. "Am I a perfect idiot then?"

She was blissed out and couldn't stop herself saying, "no you're an idiot with a perfect cock!" He was just pulling out of her then, and she was so embarrassed when he stood up to tie off the condom and preened.

"Am I now?"

She was the idiot. "I'll Pay you to forget I said that!" Emma wants to scurry to the bathroom and get out of here. She's already feeling shame, may as well get the walk over with.

"I don't need any money." He's laughing now. Shes scooting to the restroom when he catches her hands and holds her close. "Where are you going. You owe me, you're gonna pay me in conversation."

Wait, he still wants to talk, even after they've done what they came to do. "Ok." Shes still a little embarrassed and pulling away.

"No, no, stay and talk, come back to bed and tell me about my perfect co—" she's clamping her hand over his mouth.

"Only if you shut up, and I have to have a wee first."

"After!" He begged. "I wanna hear about school and everything. What exactly you're doing to save the world."

"I'll tell you, I have to go after, prevents uti's and such." She hated being clinical, well right now.

"It does?" He asked and she nodded. "That's good to know."

She wants to be embarrassed, but his ease when she comes back from washing up, the way he is still naked and opens his arms to her, helping her find the right spot on top of him where they are both comfortable, it makes her less self conscious, about her little factoid, her nudity, or that she's essentially slept with him right off.

She sighs and is about to ask about the giant butterfly, moth, when he speaks. "Tell me about Holland, about school." His voice is like molasses, and her words come out as slow.

"It lovely, and school is so hard, some times I might as well move onto campus, live in the library-"

"You don't live on campus?" She shakes her head. "Do you ride your bike into town?"

"Yes, I do."

"Oh, you must send me a picture of you on your bike. In a dress." He wants to text.

"Then I want updates on any stupid tattoos you get!" She counters.

"You think my tattoos are stupid?" He pouts, and she's captivated by that face.

"Very." She kissed both sparrows beaks. "But their also sexy."

He likes that, his dimples say so. Then he asks about Iceland and they talk for an hour or more before she's over him, swallowing his moans. They have another go in the morning before leaving, he's hard to convince that she'll be fine with an Uber. If he drives her, it'll blow their cover.

She wound up in his suv anyway.

For the next week they snuck out to warm up the backseat of his Range Rover, her mother's kitchen counter, his childhood bedroom, and then the inn again the night before she left. Just for a few hours, she'd told her mum she was going to the pub to say goodbye to mates.

Their goodbye meant his face remained her go-to for the next year whenever she was alone in her room, at night, missing him.

"Can I have you again, next year? For Christmas?" He'd asked.

Who could say no to that?

She faced those plans unafraid, the ones they made, for the whole next year.

[adonis-koo]

tease

| 5 |

↳ Summary: You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb.

↳ Pairing: Stripper!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, drama, slice of life, relationship problems without the relationship, reader is such a shy baby protect her, MUTUAL pining, so much sexual frustration,  

Word count: 10k

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// Playlist //

Song Mood

Tags: Drying humping, dirty talk, unintentional exhibitionism, sub/dom overtones jungkook being a jealous on the down low

Warning: This story touches on both sexual harassment and abuse, please read with caution if any of these things are triggers to you. Additional warnings will be given when a chapter presents them.

“Wow…” It was all you could manage to say as you clasped the clipboard in shock, there had to be over thirty people on this list. And they were all for you…? You understood to a degree, despite your humbleness that people enjoyed your performance due to the money thrown at you. But you didn’t expect so many people requesting to schedule you for private dancing.

As if sensing you’re slightly overwhelmed aura Jungkook gently pulled the clipboard from your grasp, the content smile tugged on his lips as he hummed, “Mhm, all for you babygirl. I told you guys would be lining up.”

You found yourself bashfully rubbing the back of your neck making him laugh as he set the clipboard down, leaning over the counter where it had become routine for you both to talk before heading separate ways until he pulled you aside for your training, “Don’t get too ahead of yourself just yet baby,” He clacked his tongue in amusement, “You don’t have to schedule anything until you’re one hundred percent confident in your own ability. I can still go over the ropes of scheduling private dances after practice though if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

Your first initial thought was a big no, of course, the idea of being on stage by yourself, for only one person...Just the idea felt so intimate it almost made you blush, but you also had kept Jungkook’s word in the back of your mind, if this was how you’d be making most of your money then you’d be dumb to not take the chance.

And of course Jungkook was right, you’d have to become more comfortable before you actually do any private dancing, but it wouldn’t hurt to learn the ropes, meanwhile, the more you knew the more you became acquainted with the idea, the less opposed you’d be to it in time, “No I don’t have class until after lunch today so I’m free. Can we get something to eat though? Practice is so miserable on an empty stomach.” You groaned as you laid your chin on your spread out arms with a whine.

Truth be told you were too tired to do anything besides roll out of bed just in time to shower and head out, but breakfast was important to you regardless and just as you said, practice was miserable when you were hungry. 

Jungkook cracked a smile as he ruffled your hair, gaining a whiney humph from you as he rolled his eyes, despite the amusement that lit them up, “Sure babygirl. Anyways you better get to practice before Hoseok gets on to me for distracting you,” He sent a wink your way before letting his hand drop to your chin giving it a little squeeze, “I’m working on a routine for tonight so just head back to the room at 9:30 okay?”

“M’kay.” You yawned out with a stretch as you nodded. Jungkook had rounded the bar, passing by your chair before suddenly stopping, making you tilt your head as he turned around, his eyes flickering around the room before settling on you again as if debating something in his mind.

You raised your brows in silent question making him speak up, “Just some advice but...I’m sure you’ve figured out jealousy runs rampant out here baby. Just ignore anyone who gives you shit and above all else,” He paused for a moment, making you swallow at his expression, you could tell he was serious, “Don’t pick fights. It’s not worth it.”

It was quiet for a moment before you sighed, shifting in your seat as you muttered, “Like I have an argumentative bone in my body.” You had said it mainly to lighten the mood he had set so suddenly, and just as you hoped you watched the tension in his shoulders relax a little as he cracked a smirk. 

Pushing his hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants as he tilted his head, “I don’t know babygirl, I can’t help but wonder if you secretly are.” 

You had squinted your eyes at him as the pout twisted onto your lips making his smirk pulled into a cheeky smile as you huffed, he was such a tease it almost frustrated you, “Let’s not find out then, right?”

“Right.” Jungkook nodded, he had turned around shaking his head but you could tell he was still smiling as he headed to the private room, asshole. After Jungkook left you pulled yourself from your pouty position before making your way to Hoseok who had been leading your group practice of the day.

Apparently all of the soloists switched off each day for an overall practice for all fillers but you noticed Jimin, Hoseok, and Rosé often took on the class while all the others- Jungkook included avoided teaching like the plague. You had only shared one full class with Jungkook teaching and he had been downright brutal on all the girls, even though he didn’t speak to you the whole time half the fillers glared at you enough to send your body into shock that day as if him being harsh was somehow your fault.

Hoseok however, was more of a fun teacher, he wasn’t any less harsh but he had been gifted with a much softer way of correcting the girls. You usually filed towards the back of the room while following along, you weren’t very confident in any sort of combinations or choreography without messing up, being towards the back of the room allowed you to breathe and just focus on more of the sensuality.

It had been a bit difficult at first, your brain had been hardwired for so long on the technique of every move that the quality strippers used came very foreign to you, you found yourself trying to focus on it more days then less even if you messed up several times. Even towards the back, you could hear the occasional snickers around you from the other girls but you had begun learning to ignore them. 

It was a cold crowd in this room and maybe you were finally not letting it bother you. In fact, what was their problem? You had been getting constant looks thrown at you the entire practice, even more so than normal, had it been because of last night? You assumed it had to be normal for strippers when it came to money being thrown onto them, right? That was usually a staple, so what was the problem? In fact, it wasn’t even that much, you had made a whole 30 bucks last night, that looked like an impressive stack if you ignored that they were one-dollar bills. 

“Alright everyone, five minute break,” Hoseok called out, running a hand through his messy hair as the practice quickly disassembled into everyone going for water and phone breaks. 

You did the same as you sighed walking up the bar as you drank a large refreshing gulp of water, your feet pulsed in pain every step of the way as you winced, the tenderness of the balls of your feet felt raw and you were positive you had at least three blisters. Adjusting to stripper heels had been taxing on your feet and you shuddered at remembering your next rehearsal later that day, all of the calloused you had gained from regular dancing rendering useless. Sighing you shifted your weight on your feet as you winced, maybe you’d ask Rosé later if she had any advice on how to adjust to the heels quicker? Or was this something you’d just have to endure until your feet properly calloused?

Taking one more breath you began to make your way back to your original spot as you felt several glares thrown your way, glancing between people you focused back down trying to maintain a low profile. Your foot suddenly caught on something causing you to gasp as you stumbled before hitting the ground, your hands catching yourself forcing pain to flush inside them as you breathed out a wince turning around at the sound of a snicker, “What a good reflection of your performance from last night huh. Sloppy.”

You glanced up at the girl, all too familiar with her even if she rarely spared you a glance- as if you weren’t worth her time to begin with most days. Chan Hee was apparently one of the top fillers and one of the biggest rumored picks for becoming a soloist later into the year. Or so you had heard from Seulgi with the few friends she managed to make here, she was also ruthless to ‘competition’ and had even gotten three of the other girls to leave the club- or so it was rumored. 

Chan Hee was, without a doubt one of the coldest of people you had ever heard of, it was like she lived the popular high school girl trope even though everyone here was well beyond their years in school. Your expression hardened and your brows pressed together as you heard a few girls around you snicker at her words as you stood up.

“And yet they still threw money at me.” You clacked your tongue catching a brief scowl from her as Jungkook’s words rang in your mind, unfortunately he didn’t seem to quite realize that no matter how hard you tried, just your very presence provoked the girls here. Still though, you weren’t here to fight, but after becoming acquainted with the initial shock of your harsh surroundings you quickly adapted, you hated confrontation, but if being a dancer taught you anything- it’s that you couldn’t afford to be a pushover in this setting. 

“I just have to ask L/n,” Chan Hee called out, not giving up so easily, as if she was the one trying to provoke you into doing something, or maybe she was hoping to get you kicked out, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t going to feed into this, “What did you do to convince Jungkook? I mean I think we all know you’re too much of a frigid bitch to give good head, so was it money? Did you blackmail him?” She followed behind as she mocked an innocent questioning tone.

Pausing you could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you swallowed thickly, your words caught in your throat at the idea. Did everyone really assume you were the one who convinced Jungkook to take you in? Did they really not understand how he worked? You had only went through one group lesson with him while you were positive some of the girls here had endured dozens. He didn’t take people out of pity, that was the one thing you had come to terms with. Jungkook wanted you because he saw potential in you, you had nothing to do with his choice.

“Has it ever occured to you…” You spoke up before finally turning around, watching her tall figure peer down at you like you were a speck of dust as she crossed her arms, “That not everyone sucked dick to get on here? Maybe you should’ve become a prostitute if that’s your go too to get what you want.” You shrugged coolly and you could hear several people choke back a laugh, Chan Hee’s glare suddenly boiled down into you causing you to take a hesitant step back, your expression becoming a little cautious. 

“Bold words for a little trainee,” She sneered out stepping closer to you and you watched her fist clench, turning white as if physically restraining herself, “You better watch yourself L/n.” With that last vague threat she snapped around as you watched her walk away the crowd of people parting from her as you rolled your eyes before sighing. Why did everyone have to hate you? You rarely ever talked or caused trouble, you hadn’t even done anything to warrant any hate.

Seulgi had hurried up to your side, anger burning in her eyes as if she wanted to incinerate Chan Hee’s back as she walked away, “What did that bitch say to you? I’ll knock her on her ass just say the word Y/n!” 

“Seulgi I’m fine!” You suddenly grabbed her forearm as she attempted to launch herself in Chan Hee’s direction like a bat out of hell, your expression quickly subsiding to one with worry as you knew your bestfriend could get a little...violent at times, “She was just being a bitch- nothing unusual at Cherry Bomb.” It was true, for the fraction of nice girls you had met here, they were easily overpowered by others who only had their eyes on their goal of becoming the best stripper and they would do anything to get there.

All rules and morals cast aside.

Seulgi gritted her teeth before sighing exasperatedly, “You’re too nice Y/n,” maybe she was right, but you had already stepped on Chan Hee’s toes and technically- that wasn’t even your fault she was the one who had provoked you and then proceeded to get angry because you chose to defend yourself rather than stand there and take it, “I can’t stand her she talks shit about everyone here, Hoseok got pissed at me Wednesday because I ended up smacking her right across the jaw when she tried to drag you.” She admitted with a mutter.

Your lips parted and you were sure your eyes went wide, you had tried asking Seulgi about what happened Wednesday and why she had seemed so brooding but she refused to ever part with why her and Hoseok had fought...she...she got in trouble with her mentor for you? You felt a surge of warmth at her defensiveness for you but you ended up frowning, “Thanks but…” You glanced down at your feet, “You really can’t do that Seulgi…’

“Like hell I can!” Seulgi snapped back as if bristled at the idea of not being able to defend her friends. She was always more quick tempered then you ever were and while it was sweet, it was also not a good start for her either.

Frowning you finally let go of her as you glanced away, “You can but you shouldn’t, people here already assume I can’t fight my own battles because Jungkook keeps intervening, as much as I appreciate it, you shouldn’t defend me either. Besides you got in a lot of trouble with Hoseok over that, I’m never gonna prove myself here if I don’t do it on my own.”

Seulgi sighed herself, frowning as she crossed her arms, knowing you were right but still not enjoying that it wasn’t just a statement but also a fact, “Fine- but if she starts trying to sabotage you that ain't gonna fly by me without notice babe.”

“Well let’s not jinx anything. I doubt she’ll stoop that low.” You rolled your eyes as you both laughed. Hearing Hoseok call everyone back into their places you both parted ways as practice continued. 

After finishing up with regular practice you had gathered your bag up before yawning, checking the time before heading to the back, noticing your step had fallen in line with Hoseok and Seulgi’s, “Nice job by the way Y/n,” You glanced up at Hoseok in surprise at the compliment, had you been improving? His lips tilted into a small smile as he clarified his words, ‘With Chan Hee- I mean.” Your expression went sheepish at his words as your gaze shot to the floor, he had heard that!? Why hadn’t he stopped it was the better question?

“O-oh um! I didn’t realize you saw that…” You murmured fiddling with your fingers as you felt conflicted, was he going to tell Jungkook what happened? You really didn’t want to hear a lecture from him this morning and it wasn’t even your fault!

Hoseok seemed cracked a smile before patting your shoulder, “Y’know- I’m not gonna lie Y/n, I wasn’t sure about you at first but you can’t let people push you around, you did good.” Suddenly his words clicked as you silently understood, Hoseok must’ve had some reservations about you and your gentle nature with this kind of job. 

Thinking back on Seulgi’s words that must’ve really not helped your situation in Hoseok’s eyes, had he not stepped in to see if you could actually defend yourself? Whatever the case may be you obviously did the right thing to raise your status in Hoseok’s eyes.

Rather then feeling pleased with his words you felt nothing but the opposite as the wave of frustration built inside you, you had been right. There was a lot of people here doubting you because not only your soft nature but because of the people who stuck up for you. It wasn’t their fault though, this was on you. If you wanted to gain any respect you were going to have to get a thicker skin. 

You made a silent vow to yourself before entering into the soloist room only to find Jimin had kept catcalling Jungkook on stage, who had the world's most annoyed look on his face as he continued his routine ignoring the blonde. Setting your bag down the other soloist’s greeted you as you sat down in the semi formed circle.

“Hey Y/n,” Seokjin sat down beside you as you nodded with a smile to greet him, eyes focused on the stage where Jungkook was working, he looked vastly different at the moment on stage then when he was performing, no smile or smirk was present and his brows were pressed together as he rubbed the back of his head pausing his movement, as if trying to figure out a smoother transition between moves, “Would you mind if I asked for a favor.”

“Hm?” You glanced to Seokjin with raised brows. Before he could speak, though he had also gained Rosé’s attention as her lips coiled into a teasing smile, “Favor huh? Better make sure Guk doesn’t hear you.”

Seokjin glared sharply at his old trainee who clacked her lips and winked playfully between you both as you flusteredly looked at your lap, that wasn’t why Seokjin was here right? There was no doubt his face was hand carved by God himself and just the idea was making you blush like a preteen girl talking to her first crush, “Ignore her, I was wondering if you’d be able to help Namjoon and I with dancing? I mean we get the overall concept but a little more detailed structure would be nice...You don’t have to say yes, though if you’re schedule is too crazy- I can understand first hand what it’s like being in college while working here.” He gave you a commiserating smile.

You perked up though at his words before giving him a beaming smile of your own, you were always enthused about teaching, you wouldn’t dub yourself an amazing teacher but you’d be more than happy to help where you could, “Of course! I’d be more than happy to help! I have an hour break before my art history class if you guys could make it then…?” 

Seokjin’s face brightened significantly as he smiled brightly mirroring your own, his teeth could’ve sparkled easily and your face was heating up again at being so close to someone so beautiful, “I can add you into our group chat and we can talk altogether there.” You nodded before giving him your number.

Rosé had suddenly perked up as well though as she enthusiastically replied, “Oh! I should add you into my groupchat as well! Good idea Jinnie.” Seokjin shot her a glare at the nickname making her cheekily smile again as she leaned back on her hands. Just then the music from the speakers paused as you all glanced back towards Jungkook who groaned, jumping down from the stage as he ran a hand through his hair looking frustrated, eyes shooting to you as his lips quirked up slightly only for it to quickly fall back down as he glanced to Seokjin who’s shoulder brushed against yours though you hadn’t noticed.

His brows furrowed again as his irritated expression returned before suddenly sitting down next to you, what you didn’t anticipate was the harsh grip on your waist before dragging you into his lap making you squeak out in surprise, face burning hot red as you squirmed, “Jungkook!” he ignored your cry instantly trying to claw your way out of his grip but he wasn’t budging. You swallowed with another whimpered as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, forcing you to press back into his chest as you finally wilted, covering your face. What did you do to warrant that?

“Did you have a good practice?” Jungkook asked, acting like he didn’t just force you into his lap like a cat into water making everyone stare him while trying to cover their laughs at his obvious broody expression that reeked of jealousy unbeknownst to you. 

You didn’t reply for a brief second before letting out a small whine, “Jungkook…” you shifted in his lap before trying to pull out of his arms, it was still too early in the morning to be put in this position. What was his problem? Was it because he was struggling with his choreography? 

You felt a surge of worry cast over you, watching the large taut muscles flex on his biceps as he squeezed you tighter gaining another squeak from you, “I said: did you have a good practice?” His voice became stern and gritted making you involuntarily rub your thighs together as you let out another soft whine.

Unable to resist his commanding tone as you nodded, your hands looking small as they wrapped around his veiny forearms, tracing patterns into his warm skin as you murmured,  “It was fine, fillers are still harsh and I still look like look as stiff as a bored, nothing any different from any other day.” You tried to keep yourself from squirming at the feeling of his nose burying into the crook of your neck, not used to such affection from nearly anyone. 

“That’s not what the crowd last night was saying,” You jumped at the sudden nip of his teeth in the crook of your neck, you didn’t think your cheeks could get anymore red but Jungkook just loved proving you wrong, “Have some confidence babygirl.”

Seokjin had muffled a laugh at how tense your shoulders were and how desperate you were trying to not claw out of Jungkook’s grip, as if knowing you’d only make things worse if you tried, “You gonna let her go? Squeeze any harder and you’re gonna break her Guk.” Seokjin couldn’t resist the snort that escaped his lips as Jungkook suddenly pressed you closer to himself, his glare drilling into his elder. 

You only store at the ground as if trying to focus on not imploding and Seokjin, as much as he watched in amusement knew he probably just made your day a whole lot worse with Jungkook, “Come on babygirl, let’s get started for training,” You never realized how much you had been holding your breath until you exhaled in relief as he let go of you, letting you stand up. Rather then taking you to the other side of the room Jungkook had stopped at the steps of the stage making you furrow your brows, “We’re working on solo skills today, you’ll never get used to being up here by yourself until you start doing it.’

The idea made you nervous as you frowned, fiddling with your fingers as you glanced towards your feet. He was right of course, especially if you would start taking on private dancing, and you’d expect to do it soon given your bills were racking up and between your small tip and check both from Cherry Bomb it wasn’t gonna cut it. No matter how shy you were, you needed money and you already stripped once, there was no reason to back out now.

“I guess…” You hummed, lips quivering slightly, still a bit apprehensive at the idea, not to mention you were in a room full of soloist’s, really good soloists, might you add. Albeit everyone here was surprisingly welcoming and you doubt they judge you, but still.

Jungkook whirled around, eyes landing on you as he curved a brow, “How many times do I have to tell you baby? No ‘I guess’, you’ll be fine.” He stepped up as you trailed behind, sporting a tired pout before he started throwing together a combination for you to work on.

It didn’t matter how many times you did it, being on stage on your own was still scary and you kept messing up before whining and stamping your feet in frustration, Jungkook had been sat down in a metal fold up chair usually used for clients as he groaned, letting his manspread further as he rested his hands on his thighs while leaning forward, “Who cares if you mess up baby? It’s inevitable on stage, this isn’t like at your studio, if you mess up keep going and if you forget choreography make up your own until you can remember it again.” You sighed in frustration, at the very least you seemed to be getting the rhythm of sensuality involved for dancing, but when one thing becomes accomplished another problem becomes apparent. 

Jungkook started the music over again as you retried, you had managed to remember the whole combination, rolling down to the floor before thrusting your hips into the air, “Higher Y/n!” Jungkook called out over the music making you instantly try to achieve what he was looking for, “That’s not higher.” He sighed leaning back in his seat, making you huff as you tried once more but upon not hearing his validation you dropped your ass back to the floor in frustration.

“Just show me!” You called back, annoyance flooding your veins at his pickiness, how much higher could you possibly go? One thing you had found that worked between you both was anytime you struggled between movement you’d ask him to demonstrate so you could try and imitate it. It saved you both a lot of frustration with one another most days.

Jungkook sighed in exasperation as he stood up walking up to the stage before pulling himself up, you were about to sit up before he held out a hand halting you, “Stay,” his voice lowered slightly making you frown but you did as told, a little confused as to why but saying nothing. 

It wasn’t until he suddenly dropped to his knee’s slotting his hips between your legs that you had a vague idea of where this was going, squeaking you tried to squirm to get away from him, his hands suddenly lunging for your hips was you pleaded, “Wait! Wait! Wait!”

“Like this,” He suddenly pulled your hips into the air making you whimper, your cheeks burning as your back arched uncomfortably off the ground, you could definitely feel the difference but still. He didn’t have to show it like that! Having your legs open and him kneeling between them with his hands on your hips had your body burning with wet shame as you suddenly covered your face, your mind going blank as you tried to close your legs only to be stopped by his own body.

“Nu’uh, we’ve been through this before,” Jungkook instantly lunged down, pulling your hands from your face as he pressed your wrists into the ground as you whined, wiggling beneath him, “Be a be a good girl and look at me.” Your eyes were squinted in shyness and your cheeks were bright red, hair fanned beneath you as you watched Jungkook peer down at you as the predatory smirk started to coil on his lips, “Now move with my hips.”

He purposely thrusted his hips into yours making you jolt as you let an auditory whimper leave your lips, you were beyond embarrassed about this situation and not only that but you could feel everyone watching the both of you in amusement as you felt the hard imprint of his cock against your thigh. Jungkook started out slow letting his hips languidly roll with yours as he guided them higher, his eyes lidded with pleasure at the feeling of his strained, swollen members brushing against the soft skin skin of your thighs that had been exposed today from your shorts.

Fuck. You had forgotten how big he was, and even in the brief moment you had sat on his lap when you first did auditioned you only had barely felt it before skittishly shooting away from him. Now he was grinding it against you on purpose as his hips began to move faster, making your own lift higher not only for the sake of getting the movement but now in hopes of keeping him pressed against you.

“Are you wet?” Jungkook suddenly asked, pressing his tongue against his cheek as he parted his lips, purposely rubbing his shaft down your slit making you gasp louder than you ever wanted too as you closed your eyes, your hips beginning to go off rhythm as they impatiently began to buck into his, “Is that pretty pussy soaked babygirl?” 

Something about his nickname for you had your head spinning and your body burning intensely as you let out a hitched breath, feeling him press himself harder into your throbbing little clit as you tried to keep from strangling out a moan, “J-Jungkook…”

“When do you think they’re gonna fuck?” Jimin sat down by Rosé as he popped a can of soda, glancing to her in curiosity as they both watched the lewd display on stage, Jungkook ruthlessly dryhumping himself on his trainee- a bad habit that he was beginning to form, you looked pitiful beneath him with red cheeks and shy eyes but you were so obedient as your hips dragged along his.

Rosé snorted a laugh as they both exchanged glances, “I’m surprised they’ve lasted this long- tell you what, if they don’t fuck before Seasonella I’ll dare them at the afterparty.” They both glanced back at the stage where you had let out a whiney moan hips squirming before Jungkook finally grabbed your thighs roughly, holding them still as his hips sped up.

Jimin raised his brows as he gave a smile on his own, “You think she’s gonna get picked for Seasonella?” He was surprised at his mentors words but then again, you had a promising future ahead, it really wasn’t all too much of a long shot when he really thought about it.

“It’s hard telling right now but even if she doesn’t get on the list-” Rosé licked her lips in thought before they both glanced at you both again, “You really think Jungkook is gonna leave her here on her own?” 

“You know what?” Jimin clacked his tongue, eyeing you both from his seated position casually as Jungkook sat up on his knees, head hung back and eyes shut as his hips slowly rolled into yours, heavily focused on his impending orgasm, Jimin couldn’t say he was surprised at the outcome of this situation, “Fair point.”

Jungkook held your thighs open and his throbbing cock kept hitting against your clit in all the right ways that had your back arching painfully and pathetic whimpers and moans escaping your lips, “Fuck.” You let out another small moan as you clenched around nothing but air as your body was beginning to teeter on the edge of it’s orgasm.

Lunging down Jungkook caged you between his arms, all sense having left his body as he let his lips drag down the lobe of your ear, giving all sorts of kitten licks and nips between his words, “Mmm I can feel how wet you are babygirl- feels so good on my cock. I could just strip you ass naked and show everyone just how good my little girl is.” 

Your body was practically spazzing at his words, his cock hitting against the sweet spot of your clit that had you whimpering as you wrapped your legs around his waist, “R-right there! Please! Please Jungkook.” You couldn’t even escape the quiet whimpers from your lips as you tried to wrap your arms around his neck, his hands suddenly pinned them back down as he let his tongue drag down your neck a smirk pressing into your skin.

“Right there?” He dragged his words out as he pressed his swollen cock back down onto your sweet spot letting his shaft rub over it again and again making you let out a breathy moan while rapidly nodding, you could feel it. You were so close you could almost cry from how badly your body needed this release, “Are you gonna be my good girl and come for me?” He asked letting his lips drag against your ear once more, all you needed was one more thrust- you could feel it. Your body burned so harshly and your mind already buzzing with pleasure. 

“If you guys are gonna fuck can you atleast do it on the floor?” Namjoon interrupted, making you almost jumped out of your skin, your hazey pleasure instantly washing away as you squirmed beneath Jungkook, embarrassed beyond words at the realization of where you were, it was almost too much for you to bare as you looked away. 

As if still in domineering mode Jungkook had groaned but kept the majority of your body- despite still being fully dressed- covered with his own body, feeling the harsh pulse of his cock in objection as he stopped, “I was three strokes away from blowing a load, thanks for the interruption.” He gritted, ignoring the droplets of precum dripping from his angry tip while sitting up before pulling you against him, hiding your face and body against him as he turned away slightly to hide you further, sensing your mortification as he set his chin on top of your head.

“That’s an oddly specific number,” Namjoon clacked his tongue before sighing, “Just take her to the bathroom, or the wall, I don’t care. I know your freaky little inner exhibitist gets off to this but I have to get to class in an hour and I really need to practice before tonight.” Jungkook groaned but didn’t object, the moment had already been ruined and he was positive there was no amount of convincing in the world that would let him take you in the bathroom let alone in the soloist room now. 

He could practically feel your cheeks burning against his already hot skin and your arms were wrapped around him tightly in embarrassment, this was gonna take a lot of counseling on his part to get you to get over this, “Whatever, thanks for the cockblock.” He got up, holding your crumpled, embarrassed body that was still wrapped around him as he carefully stepped off stage.

Namjoon only laughed as he replied, “That’s always been my number one priority as your mentor asshole. You’d never get anything done and you know it.” you wouldn’t be surprised if Namjoon was one hundred percent serious but you could care less. You just openly let your mentor dry hump you in public all while you were begging him to continue. Too say you were embarrassed was putting it light.

“So,” Jungkook snickered, his hands purposely squeezed on your ass making you jump as you wiggled in his arms, “You did good with your thrusting babygirl- definitely impro- Ow!” He was already laughing as you smacked his shoulder harshly demanding for him to shut up multiple times before throwing your face back into his neck wanting nothing more than to embrace the icy void of death.

Setting you down he pushed the hair behind your ears as you tried to swat his hands away, “Fine I’ll stop- do you still want breakfast?” 

“I think I fucking deserve breakfast after your ‘demonstration’!”You snapped, stomping your foot with a pouty glare that was supposed to intimidate him, but all he did was laugh, brushing you off with a ruffle of hair as you scolded further.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders he laughed, giving them a squeeze as you both walked to where your bag laid on the ground, “Sometimes experience is the best teacher,” He leaned in biting against the lobe of your ear making you squirm, “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Shut up.” You grumbled, crossing your arms, your face beet red but he was right, you were anything but a complainer in that situation.

----

Breakfast with Jungkook, was actually rather nice, you weren’t sure why you were so surprised but just his presence was enjoyable, he was a very outgoing guy and knew all the right things to say to keep a conversation not only going, but enjoyable as well. It was no wonder he worked the crowd at Cherry Bomb so well. 

But even so, you supposed, you both just had natural chemistry because you could tell he wasn’t in his work mode of making sure the conversation was kept in good nature or nothing became tense. His shoulders were relaxed and his smile seemed a lot more sincere than most days when you both were at work. 

It was nice, spending time with him outside of work was nice, even if you both stayed on topic most of the time on how private dancing worked. It wasn’t until the end of the breakfast that he had mentioned you didn’t always have to wear the clothes they provided while working on the floor, you looked like your whole life had changed while he laughed, “They still have to scream ‘I’m a stripper’ though, sorry baby.”

You crumpled back into your seat slightly as you sighed, “I really need to make some time to go out shopping then, I barely have anything club worthy in my wardrobe, let alone stripper worthy.” You already had a good idea of what to search for due to all the fillers style and hell even Rosé was a good example of what to look for. 

Jungkook had grabbed the receipt and his keys before stretching out, a mischievous smile on his face as he got out of the booth, “Say no more babygirl, you don’t have class until one right? Then let’s go.” Your lips parted and closed several times in silent objection as he left you behind for the cash register to pay, quickly fumbling out of the booth right after him as you huffed.

“Don’t you wanna go home and relax Jungkook? You don’t have to go out anywhere with me.” You felt slightly bad, not only did he insist on paying for your breakfast but now he was trying to go out with you? Well more like drag you out, personally it was probably you who’d rather go home and lay around with what little time you had left.

Jungkook had just finished paying before turning back to you, a smirk coiling on his face as he leaned down slightly, making you glare slightly as he hummed, “I have the rest of the day baby, don’t you wanna spend some time with your mentor?” You crossed your arms with a brooding pout as he pulled his arm around your waist forcing you closer to him as he walked out with you.

“We’re together everyday almost all day Jungkook.” You replied with a huff, but said nothing as he opened the passenger door, giving you a little push before you ultimately got in regardless. You weren’t sure what he meant by spending time with him, you saw him more in a day then you saw most your friends in a week. 

Jungkook leaned in, grabbing the seat belt and pulling it across your body making you shift in your seat as you felt your cheeks flared, “That’s at work babydoll, don’t you wanna get to know me outside of Cherry Bomb?” he leaned up to meet your eyes as he clicked your seatbelt in, a smirk adorning his lips and his hot breath tickling your already red cheeks, “Beside’s you’ll need a second opinion on if what you’re wearing is suited for work.”

“You’re such a pervert!” You finally whined, realizing that was exactly why he wanted to tag along with you, in fact, you’d go as to say he was the one dragging you out so he could see you in less than proper attire. 

Jungkook sent you a wink before shutting the door and making his way to the drivers side, the car was filled with music and banter between you both until you had arrived at the mall, where a plentiful of stores waited and apparently there was tons of places to pick from with stripper worthy attire. You were well aware of all the eyes that kept staring at you.

Girls all around you continuously sneaking glances of your mentor then you, who’s waist Jungkook wouldn't let go off the whole time, it wasn’t hard to see their judgement, you supposed you probably didn’t look good together with Jungkook, he was without a doubt the most handsome guy you had ever met and honestly? He could make any girl look ugly standing next to him. You decided to just ignore them as you browsed with him.

Turns out Jungkook was a lot better at having an eye for stripper attire then you, you had been dragged in and out of dressing rooms several times and he had almost demanded you make sure to showcase everything for him. 

Pressing your hands into your face you sighed, jumping slightly at the feeling of his hands all over the sides of your body, “All you need is a pair of fishnets to go with this baby and it’d be perfect.” This wasn’t the first time it had happened today, as soon as the dressing room was empty his hands were all over you, his lips right next to your ear. The black dress was skin tight against your body and leaving less to the imagination, the hem of the dress pressing higher on your thigh then ever considered close to appropriate. 

“Stop pressing your boner against me!” You whined out in a harsh whisper as you tried to move your ass away from him, your cheeks red at the feeling before he grabbed your hips pressing them back against his, his eyes haughty in the mirror as they kept contact with yours as he pressed his lips into your neck.

“You weren’t complaining this morning.” He snorted a laugh as you whined again in huffiness trying to break out of his grip before he let you go, waving you to go back into the dressing room as he smiled, “You’re too easy to tease babydoll that’s not my fault.”

You marched back into your room before glaring at him one last time as he cheekily smiled at you, “You don’t have to take advantage of my shyness!” shutting the door you pressed your hands into your face trying to calm the redness in your cheeks back down as you heard him laugh,

“Shut up you like my teasing and you know it.” 

Maybe you did....just maybe, you really did.

But he didn’t need to know that.

After finishing up trying on outfits you refused to let him buy you anything and due to you being broke you didn’t buy anything yourself either but at least you’d know where to look next time you got paid. Checking the time you sighed, class would be starting soon and as much as you did admittedly have fun with Jungkook you couldn’t afford to skip class. Just as you were going to speak a voice, one all too familiar cut you off and made a pit in your stomach begin to form.

“Oh so this is why you’ve been ignoring me huh?”

You instantly stepped away from Jungkook as a tsunami of guilt flooded your whole body, you had spent your whole morning with him, letting his hands grabbed everywhere on your body like you were single when you weren’t. You were on break with Hanjae and you weren’t even acting like it. 

Hanjae didn’t relent though and his eyes burned with both anger and jealousy as he marched towards you, looking ready to grab you and drag you away, he stopped short though when Jungkook suddenly stood in front of you, his stance protective and you couldn’t see his expression but something told you that was for the best as he hissed out,  “No she’s been ignoring you because you’re a controlling psychopath.” You hadn’t realized how tall Jungkook really was until he had straightened out his posture, standing to his full height as he stood, a fair few inches taller than Hanjae and a glare sporting his eyes no doubt.

You practically withered at the sight of Hanjae’s cold glare, his face becoming nothing but pure logic and anger that you only rarely saw as he stepped closer, “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but stay away from my girl. Y/n, we’re going.” 

Hanjae was in the middle of side stepping Jungkook when he was roughly grabbed by the shirt, Jungkook’s knuckles turning white as your face paled at the bloodthirsty expression he sported, you had never seen such a volatile expression on Jungkook’s face as he sneered, “Your girl?” He let out a harsh, forced laugh with no humor in his eyes as you suddenly flailed about, quickly grabbing onto his arm which was tense and muscle bulging and ready to be used, “Jungkook just let him go! It isn’t worth it.”

Jungkook’s jaw was clenched and he could chip a tooth on how hard he was gripping his teeth together his grip on Hanjae’s shirt not letting up as he snapped, “Hope you know you don’t fucking deserve to call her that.” He’s hands were strained and rigid as they uncoiled his shirt, expression twisted and anger sneering on his face as Hanjae only glared him down before reaching down to grab your arm. Jungkook was quicker though, catching his hand in a crushing grip, “Get out of here before I break every finger on your hand just for trying to touch her.” 

“Y/n,” Hanjae gritted out, his expression hardening as they glared down harshly at her, “If you know what’s good for everyone, you’ll come with me.” You swallowed thickly, taking a step between both of them as your lips quivered slightly, glancing between them both who were locked in a rigid glare off.

Watching Jungkook’s free hand curl into a fist made you quickly realize you didn’t have a lot of time before he’d send it flying and even if you hadn’t seen Jungkook in a fight, you didn’t need to see to know he was experienced, “Hanjae- just go. We’ll meet up and talk about this later okay? I’m not going to just drop what I’m doing for you.”

Hanjae’s jaw clenched and he parted his lips before he glared harsh at Jungkook, ripping his hand away from him before sneering, “Remember- that’s my girl.” Before turning around and trudging away as you stiffly inhaled, running a hand through your hair as you watched both of Jungkook’s knuckles curl up, his chest puffing as he tried to control the anger flickering in his eyes.

It was quiet for a moment before Jungkook whipped around to face you, “Like hell you’re gonna ‘talk about it later’ with him! What a- a total dick! Why are you even together with him?” He snapped out, not necessarily at you but at the idea as he ran a hand through his hair, his words fumbled making you raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to be so worked up.

Running a hand through your hair once more you swallowed thickly as you glanced away from him, “Jungkook I have been avoiding him, I’ve had some time to think and continuing like this isn’t going to solve anything. I need to talk to him- thank you for that but pease- don’t get involved okay? You’re only going to make things worse.” You frowned as you let your eyes flicker to him briefly before back at your feet. You could feel his gaze burning into you as silence filled between you both again, people passing by you without a second glance as you clasped your hands together.

“Just break up with him,” Your eyes shot up to his tense figure, his jaw clenched and his eyes glaring down at the floor as he clenched and unclenched his fists, “I don’t understand why you need to talk to him, he’s so controlling and such an asshole! He doesn’t deserve you.”

“That’s not for you to decide Jungkook,” You shook your head, your voice softened but on guard as his lips twitched as if annoyed at your words, but saying no more, “...I need to get to class- I'll see you later, okay?” You didn’t want to leave him here in such an angry and rough state of mind but you needed time alone, you understood his concern but ultimately that was your choice. 

You doubt you’d stay with Hanjae but you didn’t need or want Jungkook coming between you both. Furthermore you didn’t want your breakup with Hanjae because of Jungkook, you wanted to walk away knowing it was one hundred percent because it would never work out, not because a third party had gotten involved. You brushed past him, secretly hoping he’d stop you, maybe to try and smooth things over with you, or at least leave one a good note.

He didn’t.

----

“So what’s your story honey? What’s a pretty girl like you working here?”

You internally sighed at the question, trying to make sure it didn’t show on your face as you shifted in your seat. You weren’t sure what it was, with clients asking that question. Did they assume they were being chivalrous? Were they were just curious and didn’t mean to come off slimey or condescending? Or was it to sweep you off your feet at the idea of someone seeing you as more than a stripper? If it was- it wasn’t working. 

The amount of times you had heard that, in various forms over the night was both ridiculous and boring, how many times could you rebrand your answer? You had gotten good at finding different reasons and various wording which all meant the same in the end to answer with. 

You had still been a bit sheepish talking to clients on your own, but you had been getting more comfortable with it, “Oh, it's not like I was forced into dancing here,” You gave a soft laugh as you traced the rim of your margarita glass, the salt crumbling against the pad of your finger tip as you smiled softly, “I actually quite enjoy it, I’m in college at the moment and finances were strained. It wasn’t ideal but I’ve grown to enjoy working here, it has its own charm.”

“It really does.” He licked his lips as he winked, forcing you to swallow your cringe as you attempted to give him a peppy smile as he continued, “And it’s only your second week at Cherry right?”

You glanced towards the stage where Hoseok was grinding against the floor, he really did have remarkable energy, his wide predatory smirk as girls practically screamed themselves hoarse while throwing their money, “Yes! I’m still fairly new but I’m beginning to get the hang of things...Once my mentor thinks I’m ready I’ll be able to start private dancing, hopefully you’ll be on the list?” You asked innocently before sending a wink his way.

He gave a laugh as he leaned back in his seat, “Mentor? You’re kidding right baby? There’s no way strippers need mentors,” Oh if only he had the slightest idea how wrong he was, if it weren’t for Jungkook you wouldn’t have even signed the contract. You could understand his reasoning, you would’ve thought the same thing for the longest time, but as it turned out, just like any other form of dancing, stripping was taxing and hard in it’s own way, “But of course I’ll be on the list, maybe you’ll let me be the first to see?” He asked as if hoping you’d say yes.

You really hoped he didn’t take you up on that offer but if you could get more people on your waitlist that just meant more money for you in the end, “We’ll just have to see,” You finally offered a small teasing smile as you raised your glass towards him in toast before taking a sip, noticing Hoseok’s performance ending as you stood up, “Thanks for chatting with me babe, see you later.” You sent one last wink to him before moving to the next table. 

It was a fairly crowded table and a mixed party, both of the men seemed uninterested in the stage, unshockingly as they had scheduled guys for most of the night, both of the girls however were red cheeked with money in their hands while giggling to one another, “Care if I join?” It wasn’t required, but you always wanted to ask because you found, sometimes people weren’t always in the mood to be social or weren’t comfortable in such close presence with a stripper. It didn’t make sense, given they were in a strip club, but you wanted the clients you were working with to feel comfortable and safe. 

Both of the men had instantly perked up, rapidly nodding as they smiled, the girls ignored you as if you didn’t even exist, sitting down in the chair you opened the conversation, finding that more days then less it was easier than waiting for them, “I couldn’t help but notice you seem a bit bored. Men not to your taste?”

“At all,” The one towards the middle snorted out as he leaned back in his chair, he seemed more like the outspoken one of the two before continuing, “I would’ve just skipped altogether had I known it was mainly male strippers tonight. I’d prefer to be watching someone as beautiful as you up there.” He winked making you force another smile as you shrugged.

“It’s her birthday,” The one right next to you murmured softly, eyeing the girl with a plastic crown on her head, almost identical to the one Seulgi wore the first time you had ever visited Cherry Bomb, back when it was her birthday, “It’s what she wanted to do so here we are.” You noticed his gaze stayed soft and warm while on her making you almost melt on the inside, he liked her and it was completely oblivious.

He only sighed though as the girls both started to whistle out at who was one stage- Jungkook of course had taken his rightful throne on the stage as the music started up, “That’s sweet of you both, I know it’s probably not the most comfortable sight to watch when you don’t swing that way but it’s kind of you to stick around anyways. I’ve never been one for strip clubs either.”

Both of the men started laughing at your words, making you smile as well as the one towards the middle spoke up, “Really? So can I ask how you ended up working in one?” 

The roars of the crowd heightened when you glanced back at the stage, Jungkook had just pulled the shirt over his head, revealing his chiseled muscles, his build of narrow hips and broad shoulders making almost every girl in the room water out the mouth as you glanced back towards your clients, trying to focus on his question, “My mentor…” You jerked your thumb towards Jungkook on stage, “He’s a pretty persistent guy. The strip scene isn’t my cup of tea but he convinced me to give it a try. It’s been history since. Just a suggestion but…” You pressed your lips together before giving a cheeky grin, “If you wanna have fun you guys can always come to one of my shows, I’m still in group dances but I promise it’d be worth it.” 

You definitely had the man towards the middle of the group’s attention, it was the one who sat beside you who didn’t seem sold as his eyes flickered towards the birthday girls, as if hoping she’d glance this way, but she didn’t. Her eyes were on Jungkook’s body as if hypnotised with red cheeks and her hand clenching her money, not just ones- no those were twenties and a lot of them, “I don’t know,” He finally spoke up coolly before shrugging, “Strip clubs aren’t really my scene either.”

The cheering piped up against making you turn back towards the stage where Jungkook had just unzipped his pants, his back on the ground and his hips rolling into the air where every girl wanted to be on top of him, pushing his pants down to reveal the thick taut muscles of his thighs, “Well,” You clacked your lips with a smile, “I won’t blame you there, afterall I’m not a club person either, remember?” He glanced at you curiously as you gave him a wink.

Just then the spikes of the screaming piped up making you wince slightly, any louder and you’d feel forced to cover your ears, that’s when you realized Jungkook had stepped off the stage from where he had been struggling on choreography earlier, was he going to lap dance instead tonight? You made a mental note that it wasn’t a bad idea if you ever struggled with that later down the road, you noticed his eyes seemed to be distant though, as if the cogs in his head were turning and tuned out the roar of his crowd. 

His eyes landed on your table though and it was as if he turned off autopilot mode, swaying right over with a wide smirk as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, he could never leave you alone, even at work, could he? Stopping in front of the table he paused at the girl in the tiara as he purred out, “Birthday girl huh? Guess I better give you a present then.” She almost squealed as he sat down on her lap.

You felt a wave of discomfort form in your stomach as you looked away, trying your best to conceal your apprehension as you decided to focus on the two clients you came here to talk with, “I’m not really one for lapdancing but it’s pretty hard to compete with for attention huh?” You cracked a smile though you were aware it came out tense as you heard the girl try to keep in a whimper as he rolled his hips into hers.

“Well don’t worry, you have our complete undivided attention- right Alex?” The one towards the middle relaxed into his seat, ignoring Jungkook grinding into his friend like it’d be his last time while glancing towards his friend casually.

His friend, the one sitting next to you though- had an expression mirroring yours, making you realize that you must’ve been doing just as bad of a job as him at covering your discomfort. Dejection in his eyes at the girl he was obviously crushing on being lapdanced not only by a stripper but by the biggest stripper in the whole club, “Yeah…” The man- Alex leaned back into his seat, stirring his glass as he tried to swallow down his downcast expression at the whimper you all heard from the girl.

“Well,” You clasped your hands together, straightening up in opposition, trying to ignore the overly lewd display in front of your eyes as Jungkook letting his hips circle and roll into hers as if he hadn’t done the same thing to you earlier that morning… “All I’m suggesting is, maybe you can change my mind about it if you came to my show, I’m always open to lapdancing someone as cute as you both.”

The girl suddenly gasped loudly at a particularly hard thrust from Jungkook as you glanced towards his back, his shoulders incredibly tense as his song was coming to an end, he only leaned into her ear, whispering something with a hot smirk before leaning away to quickly let his gaze find yours, was that a glare? Her cheeks were bright red and she giggled before nodding her head rapidly, he sent her a wink before standing up, without a single glance towards you and making his way back to the stage to collect his tips before going to the staff room.

What was that about? Alex leaned back in his seat as he sighed, rubbing his forehead looking vaguely tired as the two girls giggled, the omen in the tiara suddenly stood up, “We’ll definitely come.” The one in the middle volunteered noticing the other’s downcast expression, “When’s your next performance?”

You smiled, happy to hear you had successfully gotten two people to come to your next show, you really weren’t interested in lapdancing, but your money was becoming shorter by the day and you really needed every last dollar you could get here, “Tomorrow night, I’ll see you there.”  

You all stood up before parting ways, you sighed finally letting your persona melt away as you made your way to the staff area, glad Jungkook’s performance was the last of the night before closing up, you were tired and beyond exhausted. You had ended up forgetting you had a thesis due for your art history class the next day and you knew you weren’t going to have time to finish it.

Meaning you’d be up the whole night- or what was left of it before heading back to Cherry Bomb for practice, groaning you rubbed your eyes as you paused in the hallway, maybe you should talk to Jungkook? You still felt bad for leaving him behind in the mall and you knew it wasn’t fair on him to leave him hanging like that. But you needed time to just go through your options, you knew he meant well but you still didn’t enjoy being told what to do when it wasn’t anyone’s choice but yours to make.

Still, you should just swallow your pride and apologize to him anyways, it was clear he only said what he did because he cared. He at least deserved a full answer on why you said what you did. It wasn’t about you not wanting to leave Hanjae anymore, it was about you wanting to make sure you were leaving him for the right reasons, and making sure no one else was influencing your decisions. 

Nodding you prepped yourself before making your way down the hallway towards the familiar path of his dressing room, you stopped short at his door that held his name, your hand paused before rapping against the door at the loud- muffled moan you heard from inside.

“Mmm! Jungkook! O-oh fuck right there! Right there!” 

Your hand stayed in place in the air but you hadn’t even noticed the way it shook like a dead leaf in the middle of autumn as you heard the girl- the one he had been lapdancing not too long ago moan his name again. 

You didn’t think it would hurt.

It did.

Note: Hope post chapter 5 depression hits y’all as hard as it hit me, I was lowkey internally ugly sobbing when I finished this.

Taglist: @loveherpersona @megladon1616 @pearlneedstosleep @sincerelyjeohn @jungkookies-golden-noona @ironically-indifferent96 @epiphany-playingwithfire @maboiisuga @kookphoria91 @taehyungiev13 @134340ismybitch @appreciatethefoolishness @hanhannguyen98 @lurkerarmy @lovelyjkook @repeating-seesaw-game @serendipity-secrets  @kimvantaee @forevermoremagcon @timestandstillalittle @yanmi1 @expensive-bangtan-girl @blxckeffect @egyptianwitchbutwithab @kimcheeeeeeeeee @rather-not-sayy @pastel-i-decay

(Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[prettylittlethings25]

MY FAVOURITE CHARACTERS FROM NETFLIX SHOWS

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

1.    Monica Geller (Friends)

Monica is a chef who likes things to be clean; and is competitive, obsessive and compulsive in nature. She was always dedicated to her friends. She never turned away a friend in need; like when Rachel ran away from her wedding, she allowed her to stay at her house even though Rachel was not in touch with her for many years after high school. She always cooked for her friends. Whenever it was Thanksgiving or someone’s birthday, she was the one who organized a get-together and fed all of them. Her parents always favoured her brother Ross, so she always competed against him to gain their affection. Monica always supported her husband Chandler and believed in him, even when he quit his job and started an internship. She was shattered when she found out that they cannot have a baby but was still strong and later adopted twins. The character is portrayed by Courtney Cox.

 2.    Klaus Mikaelson (The Originals)

Klaus is an original hybrid, i.e., he is one of the oldest vampires in the world who is also a werewolf. He is an overly complex character. He has a thousand enemies from all around the world. Though some people might think of him as ruthless or heartless, he has a good side despite all his sins. He took care of people who were dear to him. The protection of his family was always his first priority. He was an excellent father, brother, and friend. Despite daggering his siblings at a regular basis, he protected and saved them from all harm. His closest ally was his brother Elijah, who never let go of him. He adored Hayley, his daughter’s mother and his friend, and always made her feel like family. But most of all, he was an extraordinary father to his daughter Hope. Hope was the only reason Klaus redeemed himself. He loved Hope so much that in the end, he sacrificed his life to save Hope. The character is portrayed by Joseph Morgan.

 3.    Nairobi (Money Heist)

Nairobi was an expert in minting and forgery. She was one of the robbers who participated in the heist of the Royal Mint of Spain. Her task was to ensure that the money that was being printed by the hostages are of the highest quality. Later, she briefly took charge of the robbery and declared the beginning of “Matriarchy”. She was the most disciplined of the robbers. Her real name was Agata Jiménez. During her teenage years, she started counterfeiting due to lack of money. She got pregnant at that time and gave birth to a boy, who she named Axel. He was taken away from her at the age of 3 by the child services when they found out Agata is a drug dealer. The Professor and the robbers decided to select codenames after cities, because the rules were of no real names. Agata chose to be called Nairobi. The character is portrayed by Alba Flores.

 4.    Richard Hunter (The Bold Type)

Richard is a handsome in-house attorney for Steinem Publishing, the company that publishes Scarlet Magazine. He is a tall man with short brown hair. He is very dedicated to his job and avoids doing anything hazardous to jeopardize it. He has a clandestine affair with Sutton Brady, a stylist. He loves her very much, and even made certain adjustments to stay together with her. Later, he and Sutton got married. Their 15 years age difference did not affect their relationship until Sutton revealed that she never wants to have kids because she loves her career and does not want anything that can affect it. This is where their marriage hit a roadblock as Richard wanted to have kids and he could not wait longer for Sutton to maybe change her mind. Though he was a passionate lover, his decision of being a father was much more important to him. The character is portrayed by Samuel Page.

 5.    Joey Del Marco (Grand Army)

Joey is one of the most popular students at her school. Among her close friends is Tim, Joey’s best friend Anna’s brother, with whom she has a flirtatious relationship. She was strong, confident, and independent until one incident turned her life upside down. One night, she went to the movies with Tim, George, and Luke and decided to get drunk. In a cab, Joey sat on George’s lap and started flirting with him and Luke to make Tim jealous. Little did she know what was supposed to be fun, would turn out to be her worst nightmare. She was raped by the boys she thought were her best friends, while Tim just sat in stunned silence. Later when she was tried to press charges, they were denied due to lack of evidence. Joey looked for Tim’s support but did not get any. She changed her school and joined a dancing class hoping she would get over this trauma. The character is portrayed by Odessa A’zion.

 6.    Berlin (Money Heist)

Berlin was the Professor’s half-brother, and one of the robbers. He oversaw the heist of the Royal Mint of Spain. He was the perfect blend of both charming and arrogant. His real name was Andrés. He was diagnosed with Helmer's Myopathy and had little time to live, so he desired to enjoy everything in the moment intensely. He had eccentric ways of commanding and punishing the hostages as well as the robbers, but those psychopathic tendencies were a facade to maintain his leadership. His character development forces everyone to despise him at the beginning and then sympathize after his ultimate sacrifice in the end to protect others. The character is portrayed by Pedro Alonso.  

 7.    Beth Harmon (The Queen’s Gambit)

Beth is an orphan girl who has a passion for chess. She discovered her aptitude for chess while living in an orphanage, where she met Mr. Shaibel, the orphanage’s custodian who taught her chess. The pills that were given to the children at the orphanage helped Beth to hallucinate the game on a level that most of us will never experience in our lives. When she was adopted by a couple and could not avail the pills, her susceptibility to substance addiction fuelled her chess proficiency. She was the only woman chess player of her time and expressed irritation with being solely renowned because of her gender. So, she proved herself to be the greatest chess player in the world. The character is portrayed by Anya Taylor-Joy.

 8.    Chuck Bass (Gossip Girl)

Chuck is notorious for his flamboyant and impeccable sense of style and charisma. Though he was selfish, manipulative, and sleazy sometimes, he was loyal to his friends and other close acquaintances. He was abandoned by his mother and was raised by a cold-hearted father whose approval he longed for. His love interest is Blair, with who he has a typical hate to love chemistry. The time where he voted for Blair 150 times so that she could be the prom queen, even though they were not together at that time, is probably the most selfless thing he had done in his life. He is an epitome of character development. The character is portrayed by Ed Westwick.