#but this month I WILL do more art *shakes fist* this is usually the best time of the year for me art wise too

[sanchoyo]

every year I’m like this is the year I’m gonna do smth silly and funny with my ocs for April fools and every year. I don’t 😔

[nctsworld]

skateboard love

✩‌ yangyang x reader | skater boy!yangyang | college au | fluff | 2.2k

SUMMARY | yangyang tries to get you to skateboard for the first time and in doing so, you’re taken back to when you first met him. // for @notnctu​’s beginning collab! WARNINGS | slight injury (reader trips over a curb), one swear word, kissing RATING | teen+ TAGLIST | @infnteen​

“I can’t do this,” you mutter, shaking your head in defeat.

The ocean waves clamour nearby as you stare down at the skateboard and concrete pavement beneath your sneakers in frustration.

The weight of your helmet and the wrist guards are blatant in your every movement. Sure, it’s a little embarrassing at your age, but it’d be best to rather be safe than sorry.

Thankfully, they’ve been coming in handy during the times you almost fell and slipped off of your boyfriend’s skateboard. It may have been his idea to try to learn, but you weren’t opposed to it, thinking it’d be easy.

They say things are easier said than done, and now you’re forced to admit skateboarding definitely falls under that list.

“Yes, you can,” Yangyang softly says. Beside you, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, causing you to peer into his gleaming eyes and bright smile.

Despite the recentness of your relationship, your boyfriend’s patience and encouragement feels like routine, like he’s been by your side for your entire life. His words don’t fall on deaf ears; you parrot his smile and muster a small nod, albeit glancing away shyly.

“Just think about all the times you’ve watched me skate past the library and copy what I did.”

Petulantly, you stick your tongue out. “It wasn’t that often.”

Disbelief reflects back at you in the form of an eyebrow raise.

“Really?”

“Really!”

Around mid-September, in the most modern, glass-structured library on campus, you found a studying area that was perfect for you.

Main floor, nearby the entrance doors for an easy exit when class was about to roll around. A high stool chair that was cushioned comfortably for endless hours of equal parts studying and procrastination. Plugs and desk space galore.

Above all, it was perfect because you had the picturesque view of the boy who always skated every other day around 11:50am towards his next class across the wide stoned boulevard in front of the library.

You noticed him the first few times when you initially sat upstairs. Even from afar and above, your interest was piqued over how coolly he skated past all the students. There were only so many students who biked to their next class, and even less who skateboarded.

And after you decided to sit downstairs for once to finally steal a closer glimpse of him, you were completely smitten upon capturing his handsome features.

Thus, your heart constantly raced in anticipation when 11:50am hit, as students scattered all across campus during this transition period. 

With a thumb tucked in his pocket and headphones over his ears to boot, the mystery skater boy often slid past around 11:55am, making your mind wonder where his former class was and where he was going. Was he in Engineering? Arts? Business?

The latter option didn’t seem likely since his style didn’t echo the stereotypical look of the faculty. Dark coloured hoodies and sweaters, bomber jackets, and skinny jeans were his usual choice of fashion, alongside the occasional baseball cap. And on the days he wore his cap backwards, he was truly in his skater element.

No matter, you always swooned with your chin perched atop your fist or resting inside your palm as he passed by. The brief sighting of him easily became the highlight of your day.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t try to look for him in your classes, but to no avail. You had to live with the fact that you’d only get to know him in passing as he skated on by the library.

When the mere hoodies and sweaters were exchanged for heavier, thicker jackets and coats, he still continued to traverse across campus via his unsurprising mode of transportation. You especially admired his dedication on the days filled with rain and wind, wishing there was some way for you to ease his trips to his next class.

All throughout the couple of months, he was consistent in attending that one class.

Except one day.

It was a Friday, about a week or two near finals season. The weather was quite chilly now, but snow wouldn’t be an issue until after winter break and well into the next semester, so there wasn’t any reason for him to not use his skateboard still.

Maybe he was sick at home, you thought. Pouting, you tried not to dwell over the stranger because that’s all what he was. 

Someone you didn’t know, someone you only watched from afar. Someone that filled your daydreams, pondering what he’d be like and what’d you two could talk about... but nevertheless a stranger.

Oddly enough, about an hour past noon, someone dragged you out of your thoughts momentarily as they unusually sat nearby your spot. 

The unspoken library etiquette was to sit as far away from others for more personal space, especially in the area where you frequented. You tried your best to ignore the shuffling of the person placing their laptop and books onto the elongated wall-length table, feigning laser-focus on your notes.  

But a few moments later, you heard a whisper coming from their direction.

“Is this your favourite spot in the library?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dragging your headphones down to your shoulders as you swivelled towards the seated stranger. Air seized in your lungs and your eyebrows shot up.

The gorgeous skater boy glowed with rosy cheeks from the cold air outside, paired with his stunning smile. You realized this was the first time you’ve ever seen him smile—preciously, by the way, with his teeth on full display—and your heart stirred like crazy.

A beat stretched out. Your jaw hung in shock and you blinked blankly. Guess you solved the mystery as to where he was today.

He beamed more intensely at your awe struck and continued to whisper, “I always see you sitting here when I get to my next class.”

“Uhm,” your jaw snapped up, prior to your dry gulp. “What?”

“Yeah,” his deep chuckling tickled your ear. God, of course a smooth voice matched a face like that. “you stare out the window so cutely whenever I pass by the library.”

A record scratched, then you rewound the moment in your head. Not only did he knew you existed but...

Did he just called you cute?

Catching on with awareness over his own words, the skater boy pouted to one side. His cheek jutted out adorably and red seemed to crawl over them, progressing over to the tips of his ears too.

Light giggling from both parties filled the space, with you tucking your hair behind your ear and him tugging on the ends of his sweater paws.

“So, are you skipping class?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“Yeah,” he replied, gesturing towards his busy study set-up ahead of him. It was a similar scene to yours—notes layered and layered upon each other, a laptop which displayed more notes, and a few textbooks were open too. “When you need to skip a class to study for another class...”

You nodded sympathetically, pointing a finger to your organized mess to imply the same. “Finals season.”

He nodded as well in unity and you two exchanged another round of smiles.

“I’m Yangyang.”

With that, introductions were made and bits of information were shared. Your hunch was right—he was in Engineering, but he also had some elective labs that were being held in the Science side of campus. Made sense why he had to navigate across campus from one end to the other.

Before the conversation began to get carried away, he issued a small apology. “Sorry, I really shouldn’t be interrupting your studying. I’ll leave you be.”

Admittedly, it caught you off guard. You wanted to pipe up about how he wasn’t interrupting, that you wanted to dive into getting to know him more. You’ve seen him practically almost every day for the last couple of months and you didn’t want to let this chance slip through your fingers.   

Yet, at the same time, you begrudgingly knew he was right. You had to study for your upcoming in-class final, so you held your thoughts back and unwillingly turned back to your responsibility at hand. 

It was difficult to study with skater boy being in the same vicinity as you—practically an arm’s length away from you—but you eventually tampered down your jitters and honed your attention.

Hours passed. Neither of you really shifted much besides the casual stretching or the much needed break to the bathroom.

Darkness loomed in the winter sky and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him writing, which he hadn’t done during the time he’d been there.

And then, after an ear-piercing slow rip of paper that echoed in the library, he slid that piece of paper in your direction with one simple question that ignited the spark for the beginning of you and him—

I know we just met, but do you want to go out sometime?

“’Cause if I recall...” Yangyang continues, breaking you away from your bout of reminiscing. He absentmindedly tucks away some loose strands of hair sticking out of your helmet. “You watched me at least since the beginning of last semester—”

“Nu-uh,” you cut in, lying in a childish tone.

“Yuh-huh,” he rebuttals.

Under the warm afternoon sunlight, you two begin to have a staring contest, squinting and playfully seething at one another. When your boyfriend squints harder with a ruffle of his nose, you follow suit. Eventually, you give in with a sigh.

“Okay, fine. Even if I did watch you a lot, it doesn’t mean I can just absorb your skateboarding skills through memory.”

Cockiness fades over his joking exterior as he flashes you a shit-eating grin. “It’s cause you were too busy focusing on my handsome face.”

Becoming second nature for you by now as he’s often like this, you roll your eyes and lightly punch him in the arm, but... he isn’t wrong.

And from your lack of an articulate response, Yangyang knows he’s right.

Sparing you from injuring your pride further, he swings the conversation back to what you were doing here in the first place. 

A hand of his steadies you by the bottom of your back. “Balancing feels weird, I know, but you’ll get the hang of it. Let’s try again.”

Releasing a lengthy exhale, your head bounces fervently in hopes that false confidence and your boyfriend’s support can morph into a successful skateboard run.

The careful push he gives you is ample enough to have you ride down the street by yourself. Your body wavers side by side and you fear that you’ll teeter to a stop like all the other times, but somehow, your foot swipes across the pavement, carrying you further down the street.

It’s not fast by any means, but as you persistently execute it, you gain traction and see yourself finally riding without any issues.  

“Yangyang, I got it. I got it!” you shriek as you quickly glance back towards him.

He radiates in response and gets lost in you, equally proud that you finally found your balance and basking in how stunning you look as you coast down the beach side street.

However, his trance breaks when he sees you’re about to hit the edge of a street curb.

“Babe, watch ou—”

The scene happens fast. You’re suddenly laying on a patchy part of the grass, with the skateboard by your feet. Yangyang bolts to you, hunching down as he daintily tugs you to sit upward.

“You okay?” he pants nervously.

At first, you nod without a thought since the helmet and wrist guards have saved you from any potential major injuries. 

However, your boyfriend’s eyes widen when out of nowhere, you draw in air between clenched teeth. Your butt feels as if it’s on fire, since it was actually the body part that mostly broke your fall.  

He suggests to sit here for a while to let the pain dissipate, reassuring you’ll be fine from his own past experiences. 

As you rest awkwardly beside him on the grass, placing weight on your hip rather than your rear end, he aids you in ridding of your safety gear. Once they’re off, he kisses your hand tenderly.

“Maybe we should leave the skateboarding to me, for now,” he mumbles softly into your skin, leaving another kiss upon your hand.

You mope in agreement. “Maybe so...”

Caressed in his arms, you link eyes with him. Your eyes flutter to a close while he delicately eases you into him by the back of your neck.

The intense pressing of his lips against yours feels heavenly, almost entirely sedating your mild pain. He kisses you deeper, disregarding everyone and everything in proximity. You reciprocate it all back eagerly, cupping his cheek and gripping onto his strong frame as you do so.

Peeling away breathlessly, you tip your forehead against his. “Should we go back to the library and have me watch you longingly from our old spot?”

Yangyang hurriedly shakes his head.

“Nope. Never again,” he replies, his thumb stroking your cheek. “If you’re watching me skateboard, you’ll be doing it by my side from now on, beautiful.”

A chuckle trickles from you. You’re about to retort back, but your one and only skater boy diverts your train of thought, dragging you in for another long, blissful kiss. 

[tojitiddies]

✰ TEACH

pairing ⋆ toji fushiguro x fem!reader

synopsis ⋆ in all your years of teaching you’ve never encountered a parent like toji.

warnings ⋆ vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie, dacryphilia if you squint, dumbification

ꔵ the first time you ever saw toji fushiguro was around second month of school, when megumi had began acting up in class. you knew megumi to be a spoiled rich kid, as he was always being dropped off and picked up in sleek black cars with tinted windows, along with his older sister tsumiki. sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of the driver if megumi ever needed assistance getting his bag out the car, but that was the only semblance of adult supervision you’d seen megumi receive outside of school faculty.

megumi was always dressed crisply and his meals efficiently packed. he really didn’t seem to understand the concept of sharing or caring and relied on his tiny fists to solve conflicts. this was all a stark contrast to his sister tsumiki, seeing as his older sister’s teachers only sang her praises. truly you had tried to get through to the seven year old, but out of all the trouble makers you’d ever taught, megumi really liked to work your nerves.

which brought you here, at a parent-teacher conference with megumi’s father, toji fushiguro. his large figure looked comical as he sat in one of the small plastic, colored chairs, usually inhabited by first graders of course. he wore a plain black t-shirt and white slacks. he also had a black blazer that he he had draped over the side of his chair. the side of his lips was decorated with a menacingly large scar that twitched occasionally as he listened to you speak.

“... all i want is for megumi to have a good time here in first grade. i know he and his sister are new so making an adjustment may be difficult, but i’d like to make the transition for young megumi as smooth as possible.” you finished as you fiddled with your fingers.

toji shifted in his chair with a slight grunt. “mrs. ____ is it?” he asked. you shook your head.

“just miss actually.” you corrected him shyly. his entire demeanor was so intimidating you didn’t want to insult him. you almost miss the mischievous glint in his eye as you lift your eyes to face him again.

“i understand your concerns with my son. i had no idea what a little shit he was being. especially to such a beautiful young woman as yourself.” his tone is suggestive, contradicting the polite smile adorning his lips.

you smiled uncomfortably. “thank you, but i would never think of your son as...a little shit. i’m sure he has a sweet side somewhere. which is why, i thought maybe megumi could benefit from some sort of counseling?” you suggested, pushing forward a slip of paper. toji leaned forward taking the document from the desk and began to read over it, his brow quirking up in interest. “alongside being a first grade teacher i also serve as a counselor here at the elementary school.” you began to explain. “although i’ve never counseled a student of my own in fear of bias, i think it would be wise if megumi had someone whom he was acquainted with.”

toji set the slip back down and set his gaze on you. you squeezed your thighs together as he fixed you with his stare. he really was intensely attractive. “hm, how unfair is it that my son gets more alone time with you than i do?” this time he smirked. so it wasn’t your imagination, he was flirting with you.

“mr. fushiguro?”

“i’m only teasing teach.” he chuckled. “i agree. i think we could all benefit from megumi’s counseling,” he folded his arms over his broad chest, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “so when does he start?” your eyes zoned in on toji’s biceps before blinking back up at him he pretended not notice you ogling him. “ah well...next wednesday perhaps? all i need is for you to sign the slip.” you said sliding him a pen from your desk.

your fingers brushed against his as he took the pen. you tried to ignore it, knowing he was probably only try to get a rise out of you. he began to scribble his signature, once he finished he stood up from his seat and you followed suit. “thank you mrs. ____ for contacting me.” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake.

you took it, letting his large hands envelope yours. “ah...again it’s just ms. ____. i’m not married.” you corrected him again with a lighthearted laugh. toji smirked at that before he leant in towards you. startled, you froze, afraid he might kiss you, until you realized he was only leaning towards your ear. “we’ll be in touch then, ms. ____.” he spoke in a lower tone. you were left standing there completely dumbstruck as he retrieved his blazer and threw it over his shoulder.

“yes...” you murmured quietly in response as he left you alone in the classroom.

ꔵ three months into counseling with megumi you had begun to see progress. his angered outbursts only came in waves and he had stopped using his hands and started using his words. his attitude toward you had also warmed up and he had even began giving you hugs. you were happy all the exercises you’d been working on with him were finally starting to pay off.

the only big issue? his father.

every time you spoke to him there was always a flirty or suggestive undertone. he never crossed the line but he would constantly get close to doing so. there was one counseling session a couple weeks ago when he came to pick up megumi (something he had suspiciously started doing ever since your counseling had started). you were both standing outside the door of the classroom, with megumi inside coloring, as you briefed toji on his counseling session.

“so he’s doing well then, i’m glad. but how are you doing teach? i know dealing with these little brats all day can’t be good on your stress.” he said, resting his hand on your forearm. you glanced down at his thumb caressing your skin before laughing nervously, brushing his hand down. “ah...really i’m alright mr. fushi - “

“i’ve told you to call me toji.” he interrupted, his voice dropping to that low tone once again.

you cleared your throat, trying to settle the butterflies that formed in your stomach. “thank you toji. but really i don’t mind it. i’ve been doing this for almost eight years now..” you tried your best not to let your voice waver under this suggestive tension.

toji stepped forward, the space between the both of you becoming almost non existent as your breasts came in contact with his chest. “well just know teach...” he murmured, lifting his fingers to your chin, “if you ever need any stress relief - “

“papa!”

you jumped back from toji like a frightened feline, while toji stood in place clearly unfazed by his child’s sudden presence. you’d been so focused on trying not to jump toji’s bones right then and there, you hadn’t even noticed megumi open the classroom door. “can we go home now? i’m hungry.” he whined, brandishing a cute pout on his face.

you couldn’t help but smile at the cute kid. toji bent down and picked him up, resting him on his hip. “hungry huh? well you can eat this knuckle sandwich for interrupting ms. ____ and i.” he teased, playfully twisting his fist into megumi’s face. megumi giggled slapping away his large hand before turning to look at you. “sorry ms. ____.” he apologized sweetly. yet another skill he’d learned from his counseling sessions.

you grinned and leaned forward to pinch his cheek. “don’t worry about it lovebug! it wasn’t that important anyway.” you chirped, glancing over at toji to see his lips twitch into a frown. you held back a giggle at how identical his pout was to little megumi’s. you leaned into the classroom to take megumi’s backpack off the hook, which toji took and swung over his free arm.

“say goodbye to ms. ____, megumi.” toji instructed. megumi raise his arm to wave, which you met with a small high five instead. “i’ll see you in the morning megumi!” you cheered. toji glanced back at you briefly. “don’t forget about my offer ms. ___.” he said with a wink, before turning back around and walking off with his son.

once he and megumi were out if sight you fell back against the classroom door with a whine. toji fushiguro would truly be the end of you.

ꔵ the afternoon sun shone through your window as you finished up the last of your student reports. as you began to pack up, you heard a knock at your classroom door. “come in!” you called out, not bothering to look up from your work.

you sighed as you gave up on organization and just began to sweep the papers into a folder, but before you could finish, a large hand fell on top of yours. you let out a yelp, looking up to find toji fushiguro smirking down at you. he looked as though he’d come straight from work, blessing you with a tight button down shirt and black slacks. god, he was a work of art.

“afternoon teach.” he greeted you.

“mr. fushiguro what a surprise. what are you doing here? megumi’s gone home already hasn’t he?” you asked, trying to keep calm as a million more thoughts raced through your mind.

“ah, that’s right. he’s long gone. ‘s just you and me.” he said as he fixed you with his strong gaze, his hand closing around yours. “i came because i wanted to thank you. i haven’t seen megumi like this in awhile. i know this was mostly a school thing, but he’s been less of a little shit at home too,” he informed you, his thumb slowly caressing your hand.

you were becoming putty under his touch. “yes...i’m glad gumi’s doing do well at home too. all i want is the best for him.” you answered, stumbling over your words a bit. toji brought your hand up to his lips kissing your knuckles. “mhm...so i was wondering if you’d thought about my offer?” he asked, looking back at you through those lustful eyes.

“mr. fushiguro - “

“toji.”

“t-toji...i’m delighted you would pay me a visit simply to thank me, but it really isn’t necessary.” you could feel his aura start to envelope you, the tension between you two thickening with lust. the most he’d done was kiss your knuckles and already you were trying to keep from rubbing your thighs together.

still holding firmly onto your hand, toji began to walk around your desk. “ms. ____, i insist you let me properly thank you because i feel you’re deserving of it. do you not?” he murmured, gingerly pulling you up out of your seat, guiding your hand towards his chest. your fingers instinctively hooked around the fabric where he’d left his shirt unbuttoned. his other arm snaked its way around your waist.

“toji...we shouldn’t. this is highly unprofessional, i could get fired. and what about megumi?” you rambled, trying to keep your composure. toji leaned down and began to press sweet wet kisses down your neck. you sighed out, letting your hand fan out across his chest.

“megumi will be fine teach. no one has to know anything as long as you can keep a secret. now let me take care of you.” he whispered, licking a stripe up your neck. his knee came to situate between your thighs, you wasted no time grinding against him. a soft moan escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against your shoulders.

“kiss me...please?” you mumured, hooking your arm around his neck. toji’s scar twitched as his lips formed a smirk. he lifted his head, grazing your lips against his before pressing forward. the kiss was rough and sensual, both of you devouring each other in a clash of lips and tongue. you moaned into his mouth, continuing to grind against his thigh. when your lips finally separated, a string of saliva connected you before dripping down onto your blouse.

“enjoying my thigh teach?” he taunted, flexing his thigh muscles and causing you to let out a breathy moan again. “y-you’re teasing me.” you whined desperately trying to grind your clothed clit against his thigh muscles. the hand on your waist slid down taking your thigh and pinning it to his waist, granting you better access. “so needy for me hm?” he murmured into your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth. “tell me what you want baby.”

your hand fisted his collar as you desperately ground yourself against him. “please fuck me toji. i can’t take your constant teasing anymore.” you whimpered, nuzzling into his shoulder. toji chuckled at that before reaching behind you, clearing your desk in one fell swoop. papers and files fluttered to the ground as he lifted you up on top of your desk, spreading your legs.

you both hastily begin unbuttoning your shirts, one of your buttons popping off in the frenzy. toji chuckles as he lowers himself to his knees, his chest muscles rippling as he moves. “i can’t believe you have the nerve to walk around in a tight little skirt like this.” he laughs wickedly, sliding up your pencil skirt until it bunches up at your waist. you feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as the wet spot in your panties becomes noticeable. toji slides his finger up your covered folds, the slick coating his finger prints. “how lovely.” he purrs to himself.

“please...” you whine breathily, scooting forward hoping he’d take the hint. he chuckles darkly blowing against your clothed clit before pulling aside your underwear to marvel at your dripping cunt. “look at that.” he marvels before letting his tongue dip between your folds. you let out a choked moan. it had been so long since you’d been touched this way by someone other than yourself, it felt like heaven. he paused only to hook his fingers around your panties and discard them who knows where.

just as quick as he was gone, he’s back to hungrily bury his tongue in your cunt, switching between prodding your hole with his tongue and sucking your clit. your fingers fisted his raven hair, as you loudly praised his skill through moans and chants. the wet sounds of him slurping and licking up your arousal egged you on to grind against his mouth. waves of arousal just keep coming, whatever his tongue couldn’t catch dripping onto the desk.

your thighs threatened to close around his head as you felt yourself coming close to climaxing. “fuck stop! toji i’m gonna cum,” you whine out, weakly trying to push his head away. you hear him hum in amusement as he instead, moves his hands up to spread your thighs back further. his tongue works your hole, slowly spreading it wider before he’s able to curl his tongue inside. you let out a loud cry, your hips jerking and bucking as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. your vision spots as you cum all over his tongue, your thighs threatening to snap around his head but his hands keep you in place.

toji finishes licking up the rest of your arousal before rising up from between your legs, towering over your trembling figure. one hand comes up to your chin, roughly tilting your head up to look directly at him. “open,” he commands, to which you obey immediately. your tongue rolls out lewdly as he spits your arousal down your throat. “good girl,” he purrs. “now turn around, i’m about to fuck the living daylights out of you.”

eagerly you turn around on your stomach, thankful for the desk supporting your torso as your sure your wobbly legs would not be able to. you hear toji unbuckling behind you as your spread your legs slightly, swaying your hips hoping to entice him to move a bit faster. toji’s hands come to spread over the globe of your ass cheeks, kneading them in his palms.

“you’re so fucking sexy. i’m sure you already know ever since we’ve met this ass has been all i ever think about.” he chuckled, letting his hardened cock slide back and forth between your folds. you let out a whine moving your hips back against him. “i want you to fill me up so badly, please hurry.” your croak out, your voice hoarse from your previous climax. toji brings down his hand against your ass harshly, receiving a yelp in response. “and who you do you think you are ordering me, huh teach? i’m not one of your little first graders baby,” he grunts, spreading your ass cheeks again, letting the tip of his cock tease your aching hole.

“beg for it.” he taunts in a sing-song tone, sliding his cock up and down and against your cunt. your let out a small puff of air as you turn your head back to look at him with your pleading eyes. “please toji...please stuff me full. i haven’t been fucked in so long i wanna be filled up please.” you whimpered, your hips stuttering against his cock, now lubed up with all the juices he’d collected. your begging seemed to please toji, his scar twitching as his lips formed a smug smirk. “good girl.”

toji slammed his cock inside you, no regard for easing you on to his length whatsoever. tears pricked your eyes at the sharp pain, your insides spasming around him. “shit, you feel like a fucking virgin squeezing me so tight. you weren’t kidding about not being fucked in so long, hm?” he chuckled. you didn’t get the chance to respond as he was already pulling out to slam back in. it hurt so good, the pain and the pleasure of being stretched around his girth. he continued to thrust harshly inside your cunt only receiving broken moans and strings of curses from your lips.

his hand came to your hair, his fingers roughly grabbing your head back. your arousal began to return once more, dripping down his cock and making the most obscene squelching and sucking noises. “such a naughty teacher, letting a parent fuck her right in the classroom, huh?” toji’s gruff voice came from behind you. you whined, one of your hands reaching behind you to spread your ass cheeks to grabt him more access. “feels so fucking good, fuck me harder, please.” you manage to say through clenched teeth. “harder baby? you got it.”

before you can even think to react, his arms come to circle around your thighs, lifting you up against his chest. you let out a small cry, your arm instinctively circling around his neck for upper support. toji holds you up, legs spread over his cock. the cool air of the classroom hits your clit causing you whine out in frustration. toji chuckles. “impatient, are we teach?” he murmurs before ramming his hips up into you, his cock sliding back in immediately. “fuck!” you blurt out in surprise.

this new position had him hitting you in places no one had ever discovered and your tits bouncing up and down with fervor. your cunt fluttered, hearing his grunts so much closer to your ear. your lips fall slack, your tongue rolling out ever so slightly as he fucks you dumb. everything just feels so fucking good. “fuck keep squeezing around me just like that teach, i’m gonna cum.” he growls into your ear “fuck...stuff me full of your cum t-toji,” you sob, feeling yourself come closer to your second climax as well.

you bring your free hand down to your clit, rubbing it slow in contrast his quick thrusting. you wanted to savor this feeling. “god, keep touching yourself just like that baby,” he moans, swiveling his head to sink his teeth into to your shoulder. everything seems to slow, the pleasurable drag of his hardened cock against your walls, him hitting your spot just right, the way you sucked him back in as he pulled out...

“toji i’m - “ you can’t even finish before a wave of pleasure knocks over you, your vision spotting once again as he brings you to your climax for a second time. toji continues to fuck into you faster chasing his own high before you feel the spurts of thick cum filling your insides. you’re barely able to think, your fucked out daze taking over. you barely notice him move you off his softening length to set you down. you immediately grab ahold of him, your legs unable to support you at the time. you can feel his cum and your arousal begin to trickle out from your cunt, earning a satisfied whine from your lips. toji laughs softly, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead. “i haven’t had a good fuck like that in awhile. you were better than i imagined, taking me like that.” he spoke, his voice sounding muffled to you as your daze still hadn’t worn off. you hum softly nuzzling into his warm chest.

toji bites his lip as he looks down at you, you’re just so fucking cute clinging to him that way. he lifts you up on to the desk, carefully dressing you back up. he can’t find your panties so he just pulls you skirt back down from where it had gathered at your waist. he tucks your breasts back into your bra and picks up your blouse from the floor. he smirks at the missing button, doing what he can to close your blouse back up.

you smile gently, watching toji perform his aftercare. this must be the fatherly side of him you rarely get to see. after he’s finished dressing you both back up, he sets his gaze back on you. “so, i’ll see you next wednesday ms. ____?” he asks, settling back into his usual smug demeanor. you scoff before muttering out a small confirmation. he grins that smug toji grin. “perfect then. i’ll be sure to tell megumi you said hello.” he walks out shutting the door behind him, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

authors note ⋆ hi! this is my first time ever writing and posting something here on tumblr <3 i really hope this wasn’t too bad this took me like three days to write and i deleted and added a bunch of stuff so i hope it isn’t too wacky. thank you for reading!

[deltas-writing-corner]

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Warnings: Implications of noncon | abusive behavior | unhealthy obsession | death | slight gore | Please ask to tag additional content warnings that I have failed to disclose

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand. 

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are. 

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day. 

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation. 

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human. 

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation. 

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable. 

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?” 

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place… 

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night. 

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness- 

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then. 

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet. 

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely. 

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts. 

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down. 

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated. 

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior. 

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated. 

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

[teasty]

kiss yourself (03) || h.js

● pairing: han jisung x (female) reader

● genre: angst, smut, (kinda) fluff  ||  fwb to lovers au || college!au || non!idol au

● warnings: | praise + degradation | reader and jisung are not in a relationship at the beginning! | suggestive dialogue | profanity | unprotected sex | softdom!harddom!jisung | reader gets into short fist fight | fingering | hair pulling | slight dumbification |

● words: 10.4k

→ summary: It all started when you and your best friend for life, Han Jisung, got a little bit too tipsy at a party and ended up waking up naked in the same bed. After that unfortunate night, you and Jisung confirmed there be a distinguished “friends with benefits” relationship between the two of you, with a few rules.

Number One: No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.

Number Two: The minute one of the two of you starts a serious relationship with someone, the benefits are cut off immediately.

Number Three: Have to respect the other’s wishes, if one doesn’t want to do it, then there’s no argument.

Number Four: No falling in love.

But, when Jisung starts crushing over your classmate, you start to break the rules. One by one.

a/n: a lot happens in this chapter,, it's pretty fast paced but it is what it is ~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | CHAPTER THREE

“I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

You refused to cry, no matter how bad you wanted to.

You didn’t actually head back to the dorm, deciding you weren’t tired enough to fall asleep fast enough and that you simply wanted to have the comfort of being alone for the time being. You’re so fed up, so irritated and stressed, not even Jisung fucking you over and over again until you’re too weak to even speak could fix it. Neither did you feel like dealing with Jeongja, so you headed straight for the 24/7 cafe a few blocks away from the school. You didn’t go there often, but you went there a few times with Jisung in the mornings. You weren’t as familiar with the place like he was, but you knew for a fact that it was open all day, every week day.

There was only one other person in the cafe. A young, tired looking woman who typed vigorously on her laptop, which was plugged into the wall along with her phone, which she listened to whatever on. She must be a college student, since she had a backpack at her feet and a lanyard hanging from her pocket. You didn’t recognize her, so she was probably your senior. She gave you a subtle glance before turning back to her laptop, and you ignored her. Walking (more limping) up to the cashier.

“Welcome. It’s pretty late,” said a man who didn’t seem too young, but nor too old. Probably in his mid - twenties. He had a small stubble on his chin and his longish hair is tied back, a few rebellious strands framing his decently structured face. You could make out his toned chest and broad shoulders underneath the beige button up he wore, a dusty pink apron around his waist, accompanied by a pair of black slacks. He’s attractive, you couldn’t deny. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late for a pretty little lady like you to be walking around, alone, in a tee shirt?”

“I’m fine on my own,” you admit, “I’ve been here a few times, but I can’t remember the menu. Mind handing me one?” The man nods, reaching over something to grab a one sided menu, and he hands it to you. After glancing over it, you felt too nauseous to eat, but you needed caffeine, something to keep you going since sleep wasn’t going to be an option for you tonight. “Can I just get an americano? Make it large, please, I need it.”

“Oh, coffee at this hour?” He chuckles.

“This is a coffee shop,” you glance around, a little agitated.

“Yeah, yeah,” the man laughs out, waving a hand as he pressed a few buttons on the cash register, “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. Is that all you want? An americano, large?”

“No, get me the green tea, too,” you sigh, placing down the menu. It’s not like you to get bitter drinks, let alone two. You’re actually more of a sweets kind of person. But, since you’re not feeling too well, you just want hot, bitter drinks to keep you from going insane.

The man nods, “Hmm, tough night?” You nod slowly, “Surprised you came to a coffee shop. Most people who have rough nights usually hang around at the bar down the road. What made you come here of all places?”

“Well, it’s the first place I thought of,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t want a hangover in the morning either. I always know how those go. Never had the best luck when I’m drunk.” You chuckle, smiling wistfully for a moment before it turns into a bitter frown at the thought of your vague first time with Jisung. You shake your head slowly, subtly. It wasn’t a mistake. Not at all. It wasn’t bad luck. But, right now, it kind of feels like it. You’ve gotten more attached to Jisung than you have the years before you both started fucking around. “Plus, my friend used to bring me here. Thought I’d see the place alone.”

“Well, I appreciate you stopping by,” the man smiles down at you, and you give him a brief one back, “What’s your name? What should I put as the name, sorry.”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” you grumble out your name.

“Are you a foreigner?”

“No. My parents just aren’t born here,” you respond, having gotten the question hundreds of times in the past.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/N) (L/N),” the man smiles, and you chuckle softly as he rings up the order, “My name is Jeongguk. I assume you go to the college down the road?” Jeongguk asks as you sit on one of the stools at the counter. You sigh, your shoulders dropping as you nod slowly. Watching as Jeongguk prepares the americano. “Ah, I used to go there. I already graduated.”

“What was your major?” You ask curiously.

“I was a fine arts major. I only have my undergrad, but I’m saving up to go back and get my masters,” Jeongguk says.

“Oh,” your eyes brighten, intrigued by the sudden conversation, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’ll you do with your masters once you get it?”

Jeongguk sighs, his head tilting slightly as he focuses his eyes on the drink in his hand, perfecting it, “I’m not sure, actually. There’s a lot of things I could do. I could just work under a company to make things for ‘em, like designs and shit like that. But, I’m more into painting. Heh, but there’s not much painting can get for you nowadays. I haven’t seen many jobs that take in painters, so I’m reconsidering whether or not painting should be my go - to.”

“Right,” you nod, completely understanding, “It’s an amazing skill to have, though. You could probably start up on social media and sell your works worldwide.”

“Social media’s never been my forte, but it’s a thought,” Jeongguk passes you the americano, and you don’t hesitate to take a sip of the hot drinking, cringing slightly at the bitter taste. But, you soon get used to it. “What’s your major?”

“Political science,” you chuckle.

“Oh - ho! We got a smarty - pants over here, now don’t we?” Jeongguk jokes as he grabs a white, bulky mug from a shelf. You chuckle, a bit flusters. Already feeling better from this conversation with him, “The only person I knew in political science was Chris! You know Chan? Bang Chan?”

“Yeah, he’s on my committee, we’re friends,” you shrug a shoulder.

“Nice. Let him know I said hi, won’t you?” You nod quickly, taking another sip of the coffee, “Is it as much work as they say?”

“Well, with this dumb team I was pressured into, yeah, it’s a lot more than most other people with different majors seem to have,” you answer, and Jeongguk nods slowly, listening intently as he puts a kettle filled with water on a small stovetop. He then turns to you and leans against the bar table separating you both, “It’s fine, though. I’m just doing it to get a job so I can provide myself with enough money to get what I need and a bit more to have what I want. People in that field get lots of money, you know?”

“Yeah, just depends on what you decide to be,” Jeongguk nods.

“I guess you’re right,” you nod slowly, “I’m most likely to graduate with my bachelors, but I’m gonna take law so I can be a lawyer. Either tort or criminal, I don’t mind.”

“Ah, those are tricky fields in law, aren’t they,” Jeongguk chuckles, and you nod slowly, “Well, I wish you the best of luck. By the way, when did you and Chris become friends? I’ve been friends with him for a few years, now, and I don’t recall him being with you.”

“Oh, I only befriended him at the beginning of the year,” you say, and Jeongguk nods, “I went to a party with my friend and met him there. We’re also on the same committee for planning for the school, so we got pretty close.”

“You mean the huge party right before school started up, don’t you?” You nod slowly, “Mm. I know just what party you’re talking about. I think I might’ve seen you. You looked familiar when you walked in, so it’d make sense. Let me guess, were you with one of Chris’s buds? I forget his name, but I think his family name is Han, right?”

Your eyes instantly roll, and you nod, “Yeah. Han Jisung. I went with him.”

“Ouch, what a reaction,” Jeongguk laughs, noting your eyes which rolled sassily, “Did he do something to you?”

“It’s a long story.” You admit. It’s not too long, actually. It could be simplified, but you didn’t want to talk about it to a stranger.

“I have time,” Jeongguk says, smiling brightly.

You raise a brow, “So do I, and I’m going to spend it drinking my coffee.” Jeongguk raises his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” And finally, Jeongguk finished your tea and gave it to you.

You both talked for the remainder of the night (well, morning) until the sun came up. You had about five coffees, trying different kinds that Jeongguk suggested, and another green tea with honey in it. You learned that Jeongguk graduated early, mostly since he didn’t have enough money, but he was also ahead of the rest of the year by a long run, so he privately graduated. He didn’t start working at the coffee shop until a few months ago, and works the night shift and was the only one there. Apparently, no one usually came in during his shift except for travellers passing by or the tired college students, which were more likely to come by and study.

You didn’t even notice it was morning until Jeongguk’s face illuminated with the sunlight over the city’s buildings. You both traded numbers, and you promised to come again during his shift on his days. He said he’d text you, but you weren’t too sure he would. You were at least thankful to not be totally alone that night, since part of you knew that Jisung was going to get to your head, and you’d be either upset or angry. Jeongguk was able to rid your mind of him, even if only for those five or so hours you sat there, talking to him.

But, once you walked into your dorm to change into a quick pair of different clothes, all you could think about is Jisung. Debating your feelings.

You, however, constantly repeated to yourself that you didn’t even like him like that. He’s only a friend. Only a friend. Have it be with or without benefits, he’s only a friend.

You decided to just wear a pair of baggy sweats and an old hoodie, not caring much for your appearance. Although there’s tons of caffeine running through your system, you were still exhausted from the lack of sleep, and your mood had been dropped. You knew there was probably going to be another meeting today with Chunae, but you couldn’t be too sure. You didn’t get any work done last night (obviously), and you don’t know whether or not you’ll hear it from her or not, whether or not she’ll pull you out of class again for a meeting you could care less about.

You didn’t see Jisung for the first few hours of school, per usual. He didn’t try texting you nor calling you, which you were a bit skeptical about, but you tried to ignore it. You’re supposed to be agitated with him. And, you are. You still cared for him, and you still miss him despite it being only one night. But, then again, he probably didn’t miss you the way you missed him.

He would miss you, sure. But he wouldn’t miss the way you kiss him, right? He wouldn’t miss the way you hold him. The way you love him.

But, you’re not in love with him.

You can’t be.

You did see Chris, though. He actually walked up to you during passing hall and pulled you aside, against a wall. He wore a concerned, tired look as he folded his arms. Staring down at you, and rose a brow. It was silent for a moment until you emit a low, “What?”

“What’s going on between you and Jisung?” Christopher says sternly, and your blood runs cold right then and there. Your eyes widen and your brows raise as you stare up at him. Did he know? You’re too scared to answer.

“What… do you mean?” You utter out.

“Jisung called me last night asking if you were at my dorm last night at, like, midnight. Woke me up when I should’ve gotten sleep…” Christopher grumbles, rubbing his temple, “He said he thought you would have run off to my place. Didn’t say shit as to why, though. Didn’t say a damn thing. The boy even asked me to go to your dorm to see if you were there, but no one answered. I figured you were asleep. I just need to know why Jisung had to call me at fucking midnight ‘cause of you.” Christopher’s Australian accent slips into his Korean, which means he’s probably both irritated and tired.

“Oh… I’m sorry. No, I was out at some coffee shop until, like, five in the morning last night,” You answer truthfully, and Christopher sighs, “Oh, and by the way. I talked to Jeongguk there. He said hello.”

“Really, now? Jeon Jeongguk?” Christopher asks, and you shrug a shoulder, “Well, I appreciate it. Tell the guy I miss him. But, that’s not the point. At this point, I’m kind of concerned. I went over my conversation with Jisung last night all morning and yet I can’t find a single reason why you would be running to my dorm like he thought or why he didn’t go see you himself. Did he do something wrong?”

“It’s not that it’s wrong. I’m just upset about it,” you answer, and Christopher nods slowly.

“Do you mind telling me what that is? If you do, it’s a possibility I can help,” Christopher suggests, but you smile and slowly shake your head.

“It’s not something you can help with this time, Chan,” You sigh, “It’s a bit too personal.”

“Okay, now I’m really concerned. I might have been Jisung’s friend longer, but I care about you, too, (Y/N). Please tell me what’s wrong. I know something’s happening between the two of you. And if it’s really that personal, I promise on my life not to tell anybody,” Christopher says.

You sigh and look around before grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him away to somewhere more private. He didn’t argue, but he seemed a bit surprised at how quickly you acted. You pulled him out to the courtyard, not caring much for being tardy, anymore. Your heart thumped in your chest. The rules vividly recite themselves in your mind; “No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.”

Well, here goes one rule flushed down the toilet.

Once you stopped, Christopher shoves his hands in his pocket, shrugging his shoulders at you, “Okay, now what is it?”

You shake your head slightly, debating whether or not to tell him. If Jisung found out, it’d be the death of you. But, you don’t know if you should be excited about that or scared. You’re not sure how he’d react to such news from Christopher.

You know what, fuck it, you thought to yourself.

“Well?”

“We’ve been fucking since the party,” you blurt out, and Christopher’s brows raise in shock. At both the news and how flat toned and blunt you were being. “I got a bit too tipsy and we ended up having sex. We made specific rules, which is so dumb of me to say since one of them is to literally tell nobody. Which means you can’t tell anyone and you can’t let Jisung know that you know this or he will kill me, Chan. Kill me, got it? Whatever, it… he and I had a bit of a fight after doing it last night.”

“But why?” Christopher carefully asks.

“Because he’s after a girl. A girl I’m not too fond of,” you admit.

“Chunae, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know?” You raise a brow, glad he isn’t overreacting to your confession to sleeping around with Jisung.

“Let’s just say that he’s been flirting with her every chance he gets,” Christopher admits, and you sigh softly, looking down in disappointment, but trying your hardest not to make it too obvious about how upset you were, “They share some classes, and he’s apparently been talking to her every chance he gets. Not to mention, Chunae seemed pretty into him, too.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you sigh, tiredness suddenly coming over you, as well as exhaustion, “We fought about it, but I’m the one in the wrong. He has every right to like someone and want to date someone. But… I dunno.”

“Do you love him?” Christopher asks slowly, and you take a seat at the nearest bench, Christopher following behind you and sitting next to you.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully in a small voice, “I really don’t know. One part of me misses him so much whenever I’m without him. One part of me loves him, but the other part just tells me that he’s only my friend and nothing more. But, yeah. He wanted me to stay the night at his dorm, but I didn’t since he only had me over and treated me well because he’s going to cut things off soon.”

“Do you want him to cut things off?”

“No!” You yell, a little too upset with the situation, and Christopher breaths in through his nose. You cover your face with his hands, slightly muffled by your hands, “I don’t! But he says that we will, and I-” you don’t bother to look up, cutting yourself off before you start crying out of nowhere. Your head hurt from the lack of sleep, but your eyes hurt from the need and resistance to cry.

Christopher placed a warm hand on your back, and you breath slowly.

“I don’t want him to leave me, Chris… I really don’t,” you shake your head slightly. Christopher’s hand massages your back and shoulders reassuringly. His warm hand giving you the reassurance you needed.

“I know, (Y/N), I know. It’s alright,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you into a hug. You don’t resist it. In fact, you lift yourself up to let your hands grip onto his shirt to hug him tightly, “If you’ll like, I can talk to Jisung. I won’t tell him that I know about the… benefits… but, I’ll let him know that you just don’t feel comfortable about his relationship with Chunae, alright? How does that sound?” Christopher’s voice is sweet and soft, calming you from your growing tears.

“That sounds perfect, Channie… thank you,” you whisper softly, your head burrowed in his chest.

It’s weird being held by another man. Another man that isn’t Han Jisung. It’s nice, especially since Christopher has such a loving and gentle personality. His hands hug you without any awkwardness, and it’s nice that someone other than Jisung can hug you without being uncomfortable.

But, your comfort was soon taken away when Christopher let’s go of you and shifts in his seat. You look up, and you see someone familiar walking towards you both. At first, your tears — blurred eyes make it impossible to see who it is, but once your eyes are cleared, Han Jisung’s perfect face comes into view. His face is stoic, his lips down turned in a subtle frown. His eyes are focused on you, and you stand up in your spot, clutching your backpack to get ready to leave.

“Don’t you dare move, (Y/N),” Jisung yells loudly, and you freeze at the spot. Christopher’s eyes widening from how aggressive Jisung sounded. Once he’s directly in front of you, he finally looks over to Christopher, and steps towards him, “I asked you to check up on her, Chan. Not do whatever the fuck you guys were doing just now.”

“What, comforting her?” Christopher stands his ground, standing up despite them both being the same height, “Something you should have been doing instead of me?”

Your hand clamps over your mouth. Jisung’s brows furrow, and his fists clench, but he doesn’t do anything, “I asked you a simple favor. To check up on her for me.”

“And that’s what I was doing,” Christopher defends himself, and you watch curiously. Neither of them spare you a glance, both staring at each other, “I’m not trying to pick a fight here, Jisung. But, it’s not my place to take care of her in… your situation.” Christopher looks Jisung up and down, and Jisung wears a disgusted look on his face. “I only asked what the fuck you did for you to think she was running off to me. ‘Cause, she was actually at the fucking coffee shop all damn morning talking to Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk?” Jisung’s brows furrow, and he looks over to you briefly. You slowly nod, “Did you sleep at all last night?” You slowly shook your head, and Jisung groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. He turns back to Christopher, “Can you leave, Chan? I need to talk to her.”

Christopher looks past Jisung to you, and you shake your head slowly. Somewhat afraid of being alone with Jisung just for what you will talk about. However, Christopher gives you an apologetic look before turning back to Jisung, “Fine. Call me later (Y/N). If you don’t, I’m stopping by your dorm to check up on you.”

“Alright… Bye, Chan…” You mumble loudly back, and Christopher gives Jisung a subtle glance before grabbing his things and walking away.

You sat back down, half expecting Jisung to do the same. But, no, he stood in front of you. Towering over you as you stared at your feet. His hands stuff themselves into his hoodie’s pockets, and there’s a tense silence.

“Jisung…”

“Why did you run off like that last night, (Y/N)?” Jisung immediately cuts you off, and you can’t find yourself having the courage to look him in the eyes. You felt embarrassed for yourself, but you had to stay and talk to him. You don’t know how to answer. You don’t have a straight answer in your tired mind. “Answer me, (Y/N). We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep quiet.”

“I don’t know, Jisung,” you breathe out, gripping the bench below you, “I… Was just irritated.”

“Why?” Jisung crouches down so you can’t avoid his eyes. Unlike how you thought, Jisung’s eyes were more concerned than angry, like you thought they’d be. His hand escapes his pocket to rest on your knee, “I knew you weren’t irritated. You were just fine before I started talking about Chunae.”

Caught red handed. You stared at him like a deer in headlights, and your lips purse, trying your hardest to find an answer.

“I don’t know, Jisung. I really don’t,” you whisper to him pitifully, and Jisung shakes his head.

“No… No, I know you know the answer, (Y/N). I can make everything better if you just talked to me,” Jisung says in a voice you rarely heard. He’s usually joking around or simply has such an upbeat attitude. It’s so rare to see Jisung this serious, it almost makes you want to cry by how it affects you so. The way his voice lowers, relaxing and calming, yet stern. The way his eyes weren’t bright or happy, but not cold or angry.

It was almost scary.

“You say that as if there’s something wrong with me,” you try to chuckle bitterly, dodging his stare. But, his head moves with yours, and his hand that rests on your knee rises to firmly cup your cheek, turning your head to look directly at him with no exceptions.

“Because there is. There’s something you’re not telling me,” Jisung answers.

“Jisung,” your voice hardens, your heartbeat rising as Jisung’s words tug and pull at your heart, “I need to get to class. I’m already very late.”

“No, you’re staying here until we figure this out,” Jisung’s other hand grips your wrist, tugging at it, even though you never moved to get up in the first place. He seemed on edge, and took a brief glance behind him before turning back to you, “You’re my best friend for life, (Y/N). You know that. I care so much for you, and if there’s something wrong with my decisions, then I need you to tell me.”

“I…” your eyes close for a minute, nibbling on your bottom lip before looking up at him, “I don’t want you to cut things off between us, Jisung. I want to keep doing this… whatever this is. It makes me happy, Jisung.”

“Oh, (Y/N)...” Jisung sighs softly, his head dipping for a moment before he looks up at you with a pitiful smile, “Is that why you were mad last night?”

“So what if it is? You won’t do anything about it,” you answer, and Jisung’s brows furrow, “Even if I begged on my knees for you to keep doing this with me, you’d still reject me, wouldn’t you?”

“I — (Y/N), you know that I—“

“Wouldn’t you?” You cut him off, your glossy eyes boring into his. His hand falls from your face, resting on your thigh, and he squeezes it slightly.

“It depends…” Jisung answers truthfully, “On what I’m rejecting you for.” Your frown deepens, upset with his answer. Even so, you would’ve been upset if he said no. “If it’s for something stupid, like someone told me to stop or I had moral changes, hell no. But if it were for something like… like Chunae and I… then yes.”

You don’t answer him. You just stare at him, blinking every so often to try and keep away the growing tears. He would choose Chunae over you. Of course. You should have known. Everyone loved Chunae. Chunae deserved everyone’s love for how pretty, smart and proper she is. Of course Han Jisung would reject the sassy, immature and lazy (Y/N) (L/N) for a perfect woman like Chunae. You’re not a perfect woman. Not at all.

Not for Han Jisung.

It was then, at that moment of thoughts of Chunae and Jisung running through your head that you came to a sudden realization as you stared into Jisung’s worried eyes.

You’re in love with him.

You’re in love with Han Jisung. Your best friend.

“Get away from me,” you mumble.

“What…?” Jisung’s brows furrow.

“I said get away from me,” your broken voice whimpers out, “You make everything so much harder for me. Everything…” You shove away his hands and stand up, but Jisung is quick to scramble up and wrap his arms around your waist, his chest pressed against your back as his face burrows into your neck.

Your heart burns badly. It’s painful, too painful. You feel as though you’re going to collapse from how painful it is.

“Don’t go, yet. Please. You’re confusing me, (Y/N),” Jisung whispers into your neck, his warm breath sending tingles down your spine.

“No. I said get away from me,” you try and push him away, scooping your arms under his to try and push him away. But, Jisung is oddly persistent.

But, you eventually get away, grabbing your things and dashing off.

“No, (Y/N), wait! Please!” Jisung yells after you, but you're already to the building doors, throwing yourself into the building and dashing to the girl’s bathroom to recollect yourself.

And, thankfully, it’s empty. You throw your backpack down and lean against the sink. Finally, you let the tears fall. They fell down your cheeks fast and hot, the aching feeling of relief in your mind allowing you to breath slowly as the tears dripped mercilessly down your face, showing no signs of stopping.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as you cried. You were quiet. Making no sound other than sniffling here and there. You don’t even try to wipe away the tears that stain your face, too bothered and eager to cry to do so. Your eyes grow red and big, your cheeks reddening from the tears and your heart aching badly in your chest.

Once the thought of being in love with Han Jisung enters your mind, you look away from yourself. Your head falling, and you grip your hair. Shaking your head in your arms, Letting out muffled, “No, no, no!”s as you started to weakly, softly sob. Your body trembles with your tears.

You can’t be in love with Han Jisung. It’ll only end in your heartbreak. Jisung will cut things off immediately, and probably push you away once he finds out. You can’t for the life of you let him find out. You’re too scared to tell him yourself, so you have to keep it a secret from anyone who might be able to tell him and have him believe it. It’s too risky, so you’d have to keep this painful secret to yourself, no matter how badly you wanted to babble on and on about how much you hate this feeling and about how good he makes you feel, emotionally and physically.

You didn’t say a word to anyone after your short breakdown in the bathroom. You soon grew too tired to cry, and too stressed to go back to class, so you waited out that period before your lunch hour would come by. You didn’t know where to go. There would be girls hogging the bathroom, and hundreds of other students roaming the campus. You really didn’t want to be around people at this point, but you didn’t have much of a choice in the first place.

So, you went to the courtyard. You called Christopher, telling him about what happened, and he said he was going to be there right away and to meet him by the outdoor canteen. So, you sat at an empty table, waiting.

You scrolled mindlessly through your phone, wearing a blank, stoic expression as nothing was present in your all — too tired mind. Your backpack resting against your leg as you waited.

When you hear loud footsteps coming near, you look up. Not expecting who it was at first. It’s Chunae, and she looks on edge and upset. Her perfectly tinted lips frown darkly at you, and she stops in front of you.

“And where were you last class period?” She asks, and you raise your brow, turning off your phone and resting it on the table.

“Not there? Why do you care?” You scowl back at her, staring up at her with a dark glare. However, she doesn’t seem to back down, only to get angrier.

“I was supposed to give you more papers for people to contact, as well as parents and volunteers,” she throws a stack of papers in front of you. And you gawk at it. She already gave you so much shit to do beforehand, why the hell is she giving you more? You already have enough work, she should know that. She knew as well as the rest how busy political students are. And she had the audacity to throw a stack of papers on your desk and demand you to analyze and contact each person? “I want them done by this weekend, no exceptions.”

“You don’t get to decide that, Chunae,” You scoff, smiling bitterly at her. Your own anger rising, “I already have enough shit from the other stack of documents you thrusted down my throat on top of my school work. I’m not doing all this shit in less than a week!” You nearly yell, but you don’t raise your voice too much. You thrust an angry finger at the stack.

“Listen, (Y/N),” Chunae sighs, “I’m not in the best of moods right now. I don’t want to deal with bullshit right now when we’re on a tight schedule. This event is in danger of being shut down completely if we don’t finish it soon.”

“And does it look like I give two shits?” You sarcastically smile.

“Don’t joke with me, (Y/N), and please control your language. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Oh, boo — hoo,” you roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair, “What do you want? A cookie?”

“Don’t, (Y/N). I swear.” Chunae vaguely threatens, and you smirk.

“You swear what?” You urge, standing up slowly. Taking a step towards her, and she takes a small one back. Her expression doesn’t change. Her dead, yet beautiful brown eyes glaring into yours, “What’ll you do? Give me more paperwork? Tell me off to Daddy? Punch my teeth in?” You glare down at her hand, cocking a snarky brow at it before glaring at her, “I’d like to see you try to lay a finger on me.”

“Like you could do any better,” Chunae snaps, and you’re surprised how she’s snapping back instead of de — escalating the situation. It makes you excited. The urge to punch her only grew, “Your words are louder than your actions, (Y/N). Don’t underestimate me.”

You laugh loudly, “Ha! That’s funny! You… scary? Hey, I give an A- for effort, how about it?” You elbow her arm jokingly before turning back to glare through the paperwork she so selfishly threw your way.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” Chunae snaps.

“You forget who’s older.”

“You forget who has Han Jisung.”

You freeze. The paper falling out of your hand as you turn slowly to see a smirking Chunae. Smiling as though she killed off her worst enemy. Your mouth falls open, and you scoff.

“What… the fuck did you just say?” You grumble darkly, her hands balling into fists at your sides.

“I said… You forget who has Han Jisung,” she repeats slowly.

You had heard her loud and clear. Just like you heard Jisung when he confessed his adoration for Chunae. You were just in shock. You did not expect this out of someone like her. And, just like that, all your respect was lost for the woman. She crossed a border she could never escape. She’s crossed a line she can never retract over. She’s pushed buttons inside you that can’t be fixed.

“I dare you to say that again.” You growl through gritted teeth, and in the corners of your eyes, you can see Christopher walking up. But, a small crowd had started to watch you and Chunae. He stops by them, deciding not to intervene physically.

“(Y/N)?” Christopher yells, and you turn your head to him. “Is…” He grows silent when he sees your angry glare.

You turn back to Chunae, Christopher watching silently, prepared if anything happens. He pulls out his phone, and presses a few buttons before pressing it to his ear. Speaking to the person on the other line under his breath. You could care less, though, and you mainly focused on Chunae.

“I said I dare you to say that again!” You finally yell, and the people in the canteen grow silent. All heads turning to the both of you, and Christopher continues talking on the phone to whoever it is. Your hand flies up, gripping the hem of Chunae’s blouse. Pulling her intimidatingly close. You’re slightly taller than her, so she looked up at you.

Chunae only chuckles softly, “I have Han Jisung… He’s mine, isn’t he?”

As if on cue, your fist, knuckling white from clenching it so hard, comes into contact with Chunae’s cheek right as an out of breath Han Jisung comes running to the scene. But, you’re too busy to pay him any mind.

Of course, like you expected, Chunae flies to the ground. Immediately cupping her face and letting out a brief cry. And, just like that, you’re the bad guy. You sigh and roll your eyes. Shaking off your hand, which aches slightly from the impact on her defined cheekbone. You turn to Christopher and Jisung. Jisung stands there, staring between you and Chunae, who lay on the ground, holding her black and blue face. Christopher just gawks at you.

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?!” Jisung yells.

“Hey, before you overreact, I can explain…”

But, you’re quickly cut off when you feel a yank at your ankle, and you let out a yelp as you get yanked down. Your body yanked down, and the top of your head slams against the table you were sitting out, letting out a loud thunk through the air. And, you can briefly see Jisung trying to run up, but Christopher holds him back briefly.

Your hand flies up to your head, dizziness overtaking you as your mind falls blank for a second. Your head begins to throb, and you hiss through your teeth. However, you’re not gifted with enough time to get over the pain like Chunae did before she towers over you. Her high heels are kicked off, and she presses the ball of her foot into your chest, forbidding airway.

You’re a little too dizzy to think, but you’re conscious enough to react. Your hand flies up on instinct, your hands gripping her ankle and twisting it with your hands, causing her to fall. Before she could have time to get back up, you climb back on top of her and straddle her stomach.

She kicked and struggled, but your hands gripped her wrists (all too familiar with this position with the help of Jisung), pinning them to the ground. Your head aches, throbbing painfully. You’re still dizzy, trying to stay conscious from both the lack of sleep and from your head hitting the table.

“Hey! Hey, calm down. Just, oh fuck, my head. Oh, my god, Chunae, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You grumble as you squeeze your eyes shut, as if that would ease the pain. But, it doesn’t.

Jisung and Christopher eventually come over. Jisung’s arms wrap around you, just below your breasts as he pulls you off. You don’t struggle, but Chunae does. Christopher struggles pulling Chunae away, who still tries to pummel you.

She got a good hit on you. But it wasn’t really her. She just yanked your ankle, which threw your head against the table. You melted into Jisung’s arms, and he helped you to your feet carefully. Every movement made your headache worse. It blistered your head, sending shots of pain through your body. You tried your best to stay conscious, but it was a bit more difficult than one might seem. So, you focused on the way Jisung’s hands held you to try and keep you awake.

You faintly heard a teacher running over, asking about what the hell was going on. Jisung excused him, saying that there was a fight but it’s been handled and he’s taking you to the nurse’s office. So, the professor let you and Chunae go without much argument (probably not wanting to deal with something like this in the middle of the day.

But, Jisung didn’t take you to the nurse’s office. Christopher did, though, dragging a struggling Chunae away to the nurse’s office with no help. Jisung whispered incoherent words to you as one of his hands gripped your waist, the other holding your hand as you stumbled on your own two feet. Your vision blurred and your stomach erupted in pain. You had a concussion, all because Chunae as able to swipe at your ankle.

You were in too much pain to think clearly, hanging onto Jisung, “Ji… my head hurts so fuckin’ bad.” Your words are muffled by the lump in your throat that grew from the pain.

“I know, baby. She got you pretty good, didn’t she,” Jisung’s soft words seem to calm your head a bit, but it goes away the moment your foot plants on the ground to take another step, “It’s alright… I’m sure she wasn’t in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Shut up,” you grumble out, and Jisung sighs softly, squeezing your waist briefly as he walks you through a pair of doors and down a hall.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Let’s not talk about Chunae right now. Let’s just get you to rest for a bit,” Jisung reassured, and you thanked whatever god is out there that he’ll shut up about Chunae.

“Where’re we goin’?” You look around, squinting through your blurred vision, as if that’d help (news flash; it didn’t).

“Back to my dorm,” Jisung answers, and you turn to him, “Jeongin isn’t back, yet, so don’t worry. Besides, we have better shit than the nurse will give you. She’ll just give you an ice pack and tell you to move on with your day, now won't she?” You think about it for a moment, although nothing goes through your mind. But, you agree with him and nod slowly.

The rest of the walk is silent. Sometimes, you’d nearly trip over your own feet, but with Jisung’s hand on your waist, he always caught you and whispered words of reassurance that never truly got all the way through your brain. Eventually though, you both made it to Jisung’s dorm. He unlocked it with one hand easily and threw the white door open. Not bothering to flick on the light before he walked in, kicking the door closed, and sat you on his bed.

Once you sat down, you felt like you’d been holding the world on your shoulders. You got a bit of relief since you weren’t moving around as much, but it still hurt like a bitch. Your head throbbed, everywhere. Your body twitched in pain. You couldn’t think straight nor could you see especially clearly, and you felt like you were about to throw up all of the coffee and tea you’d had this morning.

Jisung shuffled through one of his drawers before pulling out a first aid kit. He took his chair from his desk and rolled it in front of you, sitting on it and placing the first aid kit in his lap before opening it. “Dad always said to keep it handy. Turns out it’s finally coming to good use. I just need to see if there’s a wound on your head.”

And, so, without struggle, you lay forward, your head resting on Jisung’s knee as he gently moved your hair to the sides, looking for something. He did end up finding a bruise on the top of your head and said that it would be best to leave it alone for the time being before icing it. He gave you a few pills of over the counter medication to help ease the pain. But, he seemed a bit conflicted. It was mostly silent, you didn’t really talk since you didn’t have the strength to nor the will to. Chunae might be pretty weak, but with a blow to your head on the table like that… that’ll fuck you up real good.

Once you’re laying against his pillows, Jisung finally pipes up again.

“Come here.”

“Hmm?” You look up, and Jisung’s legs are spread slightly, one hand on his thigh as he looked over to you. His hair shadowing his eyes slightly.

“I said come here, now don’t be stubborn,” He motions you over with his hand, and you groan and squeeze your eye shut as you sit up and slide off of the bed and walk up to him. Jisung guides you around and slowly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

“Jisung?” You mumble softly.

“Shh… This is going to help you with the pain, baby,” Jisung whispers against your ear, and you feel his press a gentle kiss to the back of your ear. You breathe in sharply, somewhat knowing where this is going as Jisung’s hand grips at your shirt. “It’ll make your head feel so much better, baby. I’ll make you feel good, alright?”

“Mm… how would that help?” You sighed out, your head already leaning onto Jisung’s shoulder, your eyes closing in relaxation as Jisung’s hands caressed your stomach, nearing both your breasts and your womanhood, but not daring to go near just yet.

“It’ll make all your muscles relax. It’ll make you feel better,” Jisung whispers into your ear, making you shiver, “Don’t you want that? You want me to touch you, babygirl?”

You can’t think straight. All morality and logic is thrown out your mental window, so you nod quickly without thinking. One your hands swiping up to caress Jisung’s neck as he pressed a few light kisses to your ear. “Alright, (Y/N). My sweet baby. Just relax for me, alright?” The praise makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you nearly forget that he’s only your friend. Your legs spread slightly, your back pressing to his chest. Letting him hold your weight. “That’s my good girl. My perfect (Y/N).”

His. His perfect (Y/N). Those words made you happy, oh so happy. Even if a thought couldn’t bear to finish in your head, you still enjoyed such words. It’s a break from the name calling and the dirty talk. It made you feel like the only girl in the world. Like Chunae was never a part of the picture to begin with.

Jisung’s hands slowly unbutton your jeans, his lips still pressing kisses to the side of your neck and your ear. Occasionally whispering short sentences like, “Good girl… That’s right… Oh, baby…” It makes you squirm in his grasp as he undoes your jeans and pushes them off of you. You weakly lift up your hips to help him a little bit as Jisung lets your pants fall to the ground with a low thud. You press your ass against Jisung, your leg spreading a bit more at the feeling of the cold air of the dorm meeting your clothed womanhood, which got wetter by the second.

You let your head lift, resting your head against Jisung’s cheek to let it rest, but you wanted to watch his hands as they softly caressed your thighs. Sending calming chills through your legs and your gut as his warm hands touched your thighs and hips ever so intimately. You melted into his touch, your lips parting to allow your low breaths to become audible. You could feel Jisung’s breath against your ear and your neck, and your neck craned slightly to feel more of it.

“You’re so beautiful, (Y/N), you know that?” Jisung’s low, sudden voice sent butterflies exploding in your stomach. You whimpered softly in response, not knowing how to respond to such praise, since Jisung was quite the degrader. He’d usually call you all sorts of dirty things. He’s probably taking pity on you since you’re hurt, but it doesn’t matter. It still makes you feel so happy and so turned on. “My beautiful baby…” Jisung whispers, seemingly to himself as his fingers brush over your clothed cunt.

“Jisunggie… don’t talk nonsense,” you utter out, sharply gasping when you feel the base of his fingers press against your clothed labia.

“What nonsense?” Jisung chuckles deeply, his fingers rubbing slowly circles, making your eyes close in bliss and your head rest against Jisung’s shoulder, your hands gripping the arms of the desk chair as Jisung’s other hand squeezes your inner thigh. “Don’t say that it’s nonsense. You’re only lying to yourself.”

You didn’t respond, basking in the pleasure and praise as Jisung’s experienced fingers rubbed along your clothes labia. Soaking your panties through with your juices (yet another pair of perfectly good underwear ruined by Jisung), the outline of your pussy showing through and letting Jisung touch even more sensitive areas.

He goes for a while without actually touching your bare womanhood. Mainly his index and middle finger rubbing and massaging your labia and over your pussy. Jisung’s eyes focused on his hands as he worked them over you. You feel yourself relax, the pain easing from you. You forget about the headache, the dizziness. The nausea and the aching throughout your body; forgotten. All that’s on your mind is how intimately Jisung touches you. How his experienced hands move over your sensitive pussy in such a delicate, yet firm way. So gentle, yet so emphatic.

So loving, yet so bitterly resistant.

Your mind grows blank. Too caught up in the relaxing pleasure and from overcoming your concussion to think straightly. All that keeps your mind wandering is Jisung and Jisung alone. Not Christopher. Not the man, Jeongguk, that you met at the coffee shop. Not even Chunae. Only Han Jisung.

After long minutes of slowly teasing your cunt, soaking your panties with your wetness, Jisung finally bids you one good deed and taps your hip. Guiding you to raise it as he slips them off slowly. Letting them fall down your legs and onto the floor below. You step out of them. Your bottom half now completely exposed, yet you still wear all that’s on your torso. You didn’t care, though. It was better than being fully clothed, anyways.

“Oh, fuck…” Jisung breaths out in a rugged manner as his fingers slowly brush over the lips of your pussy, your sweet wetness seeping from you, already coating Jisung’s fingertips, “You’re so wet for me, baby. So wet for me. It makes me want to fuck you so hard. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You frantically nod against Jisung’s head, watching as his fingers push against your labia and against your core. Firmly pressing against your clit, and your back arches as you grind your hips on his fingers. “But, I won’t. Not yet, anyways. I’m going to make you feel better, not make you scream and give you a headache all over again.”

Jisung chuckles deeply, as if what he just said was nothing more than a joke, but you didn't laugh along. He doesn’t seem to care, though, since you’re obviously so immersed in the way Jisung’s fingers rub your pussy gently. His lips part slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as his middle finger teases your entrance.

“Jisung, ahh~... Yes, please, just like that…” you whisper out in sharp breaths as Jisung slowly inserts his middle finger into you. Pumping slowly until his knuckles are pressed against your heat. “Fuck, yes… Love your fingers so much, Jisung - ah.”

“I know, baby,” Jisung tenses below you at your words, and his finger slightly curves inside you, making your leg twitch. But, his hand that caressed your thigh gripped your leg, keeping you steady on his lap. “I don’t usually get to finger you like this, do I? Letting my hands do all the work, hmm?”

No, he didn’t. But damn, you wanted him to more often. You didn’t answer, only with a delicate moan as Jisung’s middle finger slowly pumps itself in and out of you. Curving slightly every time it thrusted into you to hit that special spot. Sending chills through your torso as his finger worked inside you so well. Your walls clench around him, despite how he was going slow. It wasn’t painfully slow, but not enough to make you cum quick enough. It’s a slow burn. Slowly building up your sensitivity as his palm pressed against your clit.

“You take my fingers so well, (Y/N) - ah… You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?” Jisung comments, his voice low, yet gentle. Soft to the ear, and not as aggressive and dark as it tended to be during sex. It sent you on an overdrive. It drove you crazy by just his tone of voice. It made your heart ache and your pussy wetter and wetter. “You don’t know how hard this is for me, baby…”

Oh, you knew. You can feel his hard dick pressing against your ass. The only thing keeping you two apart was his few articles of clothing. But, no matter what he was wearing, you could still feel how he ached underneath you. You mentally applauded him, but you were too lost in the lust to actually bid him something of a congratulations for being able to hold back this long (since he was usually pretty desperate to get his dick inside you).

It’s another minute or so until Jisung pushes in another finger. Slowly stretching you out and making you moan even louder. The way his fingers curled ever so slightly inside you, hitting that special spot over and over again drove you insane. His fingers pressing against it firmly with the tips of it. Your mind hazed with lust and desire, and your craving for him grew even bigger and even more intense.

“Shit, Jisung - ah… That feels so good ~,” you moan out as you meet with Jisung’s knuckles, grinding into his fingers.

“Hmm… does it, baby? You feel good?” You nod slowly to his words, and Jisung breathily chuckles, smiling, “See? I said it would help.”

“I don’t care about that…'' you sigh out softly, although it wasn’t entirely the truth and you were thankful that Jisung’s suggestion was able to subside your headache. “I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

Jisung’s fingers stay inside you, his hand pressed against your throbbing pussy as he looks at your face. You already looked so fucked out. So desperate, your eyes craving and needy. “Are you sure?”

You slowly nod, turning your head and pressing a kiss to his lips briefly. It wasn’t too sloppy, but your tongue brushed over his lips, “Yes, Jisung… I want you to make me your bitch…”

“Oh, sweet, sweet (Y/N)...” Jisung chuckles darkly, his hand pulling itself from your pussy, making you twitch and gasp loudly as his wet hand flies up to grip your cheeks. Pushing your head back slightly as his fingers press into your jaw, holding your head in place as you clenched around nothing. Your pussy craves both release and Jisung ever so badly.

“You were my bitch since the beginning,” Jisung’s voice grows familiarly dark, and you try to clamp your legs shut from the chills that run through your womanhood. But, Jisung’s hand yanks your legs apart. “Keep your legs spread for me. I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging for me to stop.”

You let out a breathy moan, and, at first, you thought Jisung was going to pull you into a kiss. But, he didn’t. He chose a rougher path. He quickly pushes you off of him. Standing up and pushing you face first onto the bed. The back of his hand pushing your face down into the sheets, the other guiding your hips up slowly. Spreading your legs for him. Such a dirty position, your dripping pussy on display for no one other than Han Jisung.

But, he doesn’t spend much time staring at your pussy. Instead, his hands grip your wrists, and he grinds his clothed, hard cock against your wet pussy. He let out a breathy moan, leaning over your so he was next to your ear as he whispered, “You see how hard you make me, (Y/N)? You see you fucking riled up you make me? Makes me want to fuck this pussy all damn day. Have you sit on my cock all fucking day, huh?”

You moan out in response, your hair spread as your hoodie fell down. Your bra is slightly exposed, and Jisung pulls himself up. Basically ripping off your bra and tossing it to the side. Not even bothering with the hoodie itself as he tore down his jeans.

You couldn’t watch him, so you knew he was fully exposed when you heard the snap and fall of his boxers. It’s almost an instant when his throbbing head comes out and presses against your pussy. Your lips fall wide open as Jisung rubs his cock over your soaking pussy.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Jisung moans out lowly, “So ready for my cock, like always. So desperate for me. So needy for me cock, aren’t you? Already so fucked out and I haven’t even put my dick inside you yet. Such a slutty girl…”

You moan out, your back arching, presenting yourself more to him, “Jisung! Jisung, please just fuck me…! I need it so bad, please…So bad…” You breath out rapidly, clutching the sheets.

Jisung lets out a shaky breath in response to your begging, “Since you asked so nicely…”

And, like an instant, Jisung was inside you. His hips pressed against your ass, his hands guiding your hips back to meet with his. You let out loud strings of moans and groans of Jisung’s name and incoherent words as Jisung fucks himself into you, raw. His dick throbs inside your wet walls. You clench around him desperately, your back falling limp as you succumb to the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, (Y/N), you do so well in this po-position, don’t you?” Jisung breathes out raggedly, and you moan loudly in response. Jisung’s hands harshly gripping your hips and waist to have you meet back with his harsh, aggressive thrusts. His cock burns your hot walls, burning in such a blissfully good way, it makes your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Ji-Jisunggie -ah… It’s so… so good - oh, fuck! Just like that, please, just like that!” You scream out as Jisung props up one of his legs, allowing him to have a better angle to thrust even faster and harder. Ramming his rock hard dick into you with passion. Jisung’s hands trail around your waist and ass once you’ve started to bounce back, meeting with his thrusts on your own.

His hands knead your ass. Spreading your cheeks before firmly pressing them. One of his hands, however, reaches up. Slowly crawling up your back, and his hips stagger a bit as his hands grip a handful of your hair. First, his hand merely presses against your head. But, at some point, he yanks you head back. Forcing you up from the bed, and you use your weak arms as support as Jisung’s hand yanks at your hair. You stare at the wall, but you don’t focus on it. You can’t. Your eyes keep rolling back or crossing, mixing beautifully with your loud moans.

Jisung uses the grip on your hair to give him a steadier rhythm as he thrusted into you. His hips slapping against your ass, making it bounce with every thrust. The sounds of skin slapping, your loud moaning and Jisung’s groans and occasional dirty talk filled the room as Jisung pressed wet kisses to your neck. Suckling on the back of your neck especially, and you moan from the feeling of his tongue being flushed against your sweating skin.

It was so much, his cock, the pulling of your hair and his tongue on your neck. Your mind falls blank, thinking of nothing other than Jisung’s cock. Some drool dribbles down the side of your chin as your eyes water from the pleasure. You can’t say anything more, not even being able to form Jisung’s name correctly. You’re so fucked out, so beautifully fucked out.

Jisung definitely noticed it, too, since it gave him the courage to start biting your sensitive skin. It was more sensitive in some places, and you immediately knew that he left hickeys. He bite them gently, yet firmly before running his tongue over the markings.

Your pussy clenched around him dangerously tight. So tightly, it makes Jisung let out a low, broken moan and makes his hips stagger and twitch as he presses himself deep into you. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, babygirl? You gonna cum for me like the good little slut you are? Cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum for me,” Jisung groans out loudly, pressing your head against the sheets again, muffling your loud moans as you feel your climax nearing.

Your knees buckle as your legs twitch and tense dangerously tightly as you feel yourself cum hard. Jisung slows down slightly, riding you out on your high. Your loud moans turn into high pitched ones as your back spasms from the intensity of it.

Right after you cum, Jisung quickly pulls out of you before shooting ropes of white cum onto your ass. You breathe heavily, trying your best to catch your breath as you listen to Jisung moan loudly once he cums, too. Your pussy clenches around nothing, and you feel your entire body relax. All your muscles calm. Exhaustion washes over you like a tidal wave.

And you’re out like a light.

Jisung was a bit concerned as to why you fell asleep so easily. But, he didn’t argue. He gently cleaned you both up while you slept and changed you into a pair of his clothes after he realized you wouldn’t wake up even if he blew an air horn in your ear. He laid you in his bed, as comfortably as he could make you. He wiped the sweat off of your face and watched your sleeping face for a few minutes before he moved back to his desk, grabbing his laptop from his backpack and opening it. Opening work for his classes, since he’ll be absent for the rest of the day.

You slept exceptionally soundly, and he was thankful for that.

Jeongin actually came back that night, too. At first, he didn’t see you sleeping in Jisung’s bed, but once Jisung motioned for him to be quiet, Jeongin looked over to his bed to see locks of (H/C) hair poking out of the blanket. He wondered why you were here, and Jisung naturally just said that you had gotten into a fight and injured yourself and he was taking you in to take care of you. Jeongin didn’t argue much and minded his own business for the rest of the day.

However, Jisung intended to sleep next to you. But, he couldn’t bring himself to. The guilt piling inside him prevented him from doing so.

[wishesunderthestars]

Eunoia // Ch. 11

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 9.9k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, mentions of past sexual abuse, injuries and blood

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

A/N: The taglist for Eunoia is now closed.

“Zayn, I promise I’m right around the corner,” you said into the phone. “I went home for lunch and it took a little more time than I had expected.”

You heard the singer laugh on the other end of the line. “It’s alright, you are always on time. I can excuse this one. You aren’t even that late.” You checked your phone to confirm what he was saying. Six minutes late. Not that bad.

“I could be a little earlier. I parked the car at the usual parking spot so I’m really just around the corner.” You looked back at Jimin. He had stopped walking and was looking behind him. Some shop window had probably caught his attention. There were many charming independent shops in the area. “By the way Jimin is with me, he wanted to get out of the house. I didn’t think you would mind.”

“I don’t,” Zayn said. “I would like to see the lad again. You talk so much about him, about all of them really, it would be nice to actually see him instead of hearing about him.”

“I mean…” You paused. “C’mon, I don’t talk about them that much.”  

Zayn huffed. “Keep telling yourself that. But I’ll let you have this one. Other than them and work, do you even have any other news?”

“I totally have other news.” Zayn waited. It was slightly worrying that you came up empty. “I’m drowning in work, okay? What other news would I have? Ehhh, have you met Astrid?”  

In the short silence that followed, you could hear Zayn rolling his eyes. “Taylor’s hybrid is hardly news, she adopted her a month ago. You were literally together in Nashville. And did you forget I told you that last time I met up with Taylor Astrid was with her? Do you listen that well to what I’m saying?”  

“Oh, right. I had wanted to come too, but you know work-” You were cut off by the sound of quick footsteps on the gravel behind you. Not many people wandered these streets. You turned back in time to see Jimin running in the opposite direction down the street. “Jimin!” You shouted. He didn’t stop. He should have heard you. With his hybrid hearing, he should have heard you. “I have to go. We’ll be more late.” You ended the call and took off.

You thanked whatever deities could hear you for deciding to wear sneakers instead of high heels to work. When you had important meetings with the higher ups of the film studios, you would dress nicer and high heels were etiquette at this point. Lucky for you, this day you didn’t have any meetings of that kind but rather a more active role as the director. High heels would only slow you down.

Chasing Jimin down the streets, you were glad nothing was slowing you down. You called his name again and again but he wouldn’t reply, just kept running. Your mind jumped to the worst things that could have happened. No one was chasing him, other than you. He wasn’t running away from someone, unless… Unless he was running away from you. But no. Jimin wouldn’t do that. He had no reason to run away from you. He had been a little strange before and something was certainly off but he wouldn’t run away.

You didn’t let yourself entertain the thought anymore, just put one foot in front of the other as fast as you could. Your heart was racing but it wasn’t solely because of running.

Around a corner, in a small alleyway nestled between a small art shop and a closed down building, Jimin had stopped. You stopped too. A large graffiti in blue spray paint read “The world isn’t fair, why should we be?”.

“Jimin?” you repeated quietly, it felt wrong shouting here.

Jimin was frozen in the middle of the alley, his eyes wide. His hands were fisted at his sides, they were shaking. Someone was standing against the wall.

Jimin went to take a step forward but a hiss stopped him. “Yoongi?”

“Step back,” the man said. Black cat-like ears were turned back, their fur blending into his pitch black hair. Narrowed dark eyes regarded Jimin. Jimin didn’t back down.

“Yoongi, it’s me,” Jimin said, albeit with a little less confidence. His eyes were open and vulnerable, staring at the other hybrid like he was a dream he was too afraid to wake up from, yet he wasn’t sure if he should call it a nightmare. “It’s Jimin, don’t you remember me?”

Yoongi didn’t reply. His shoulders were drawn high in tension, making more obvious the teared up fabric on his shoulder. It wasn’t the only tear on his clothes, his jeans were ripped in a way that didn’t look intentional and the hem of his shirt was torn and scuffed. One of his hands was tightly clutching a baseball cap. “Stay away from me.”

 There was so much pain in Jimin’s eyes. All you wanted to do was gather him in your arms and hold him until it was gone, but something was holding you back.

 “I looked for you. In the shelter and in the streets. I tried to find you for years.” Jimin’s lip trembled. “Where have you been?”

 Yoongi looked away. “You don’t want to know.”

 “Please,” Jimin whispered and you could hear the heartbreak in his voice. “I-I’m so sorry.”

 That made Yoongi’s head shoot up. “You’re sorry? What-”

 Just then, your phone started ringing. Both hybrids looked at you. Alarmed, Yoongi backed further into the alley. Perfect timing. You thought Zayn must be calling you, asking you what had happened and where you had gone, but it was Namjoon. Wary of the deadly glare Yoongi was sending your way, you declined the call.

“Who are you?” Yoongi hissed. The fur on his tail was standing on end and you could imagine him pouncing on you and tearing you apart with his teeth. You hadn’t been as nervous around a hybrid as you were at the moment. With Namjoon, it was more wariness than anything else. But this time a thread of fear was slithering up your arms. There was dried blood on Yoongi’s knuckles. There was no John this time and you didn’t have only yourself to worry about.

 "She's my owner," Jimin replied for you. It wasn't the way you would have phrased it and Yoongi's eyes narrowed further until they were nothing more than twin slits. "Yoongi, please," he said again. You didn't know what he was pleading for.

 "She's your owner?" Yoongi spat out the word like it was the worst of insults.

 You had a very bad feeling about this.

 Jimin clenched his jaw, standing up straighter. "She isn't like him, she's nothing like him. She saved me."

 Yoongi didn't say anything. His back was one with the wall by now.

 Jimin averted his gaze, shoulders slumping. "I-I missed you. I thought... I thought he had done something to you." He hugged his frame, making himself look smaller. "I thought he hurt you," the last words came out as a whimper.

 Yoongi was quick to shake his head. "He didn't, he didn't hurt me. You shouldn't have worried about me. You shouldn't be thinking about me."

 "But I was! I still am!"

 Yoongi looked away, he didn't move from the wall. It was clear the two hybrids knew each other but there were too many things you couldn't make sense of. Yoongi must have been someone important to Jimin if he had chased him all the way here and by what they were saying he had something to do with Jimin's past owner. You had assumed Jimin had been alone with that vile man, you hadn't considered having someone there with him. Someone he seemed to care for. Maybe he had met him at one of those parties Jimin had mentioned his owner liked to take him to, or he was one of his friends' hybrid.

 Your brain was in overdrive but your body was rooted on the spot. You didn't want to intrude but you were worried. Meanwhile, you only had limited time before you had to get back to work...

Stupid brain, you cursed. This was such an important moment for Jimin and here you were thinking about work.

 “I have to go," Yoongi said, pulling himself away from the wall.

 "No!" Jimin protested loudly, moving as if he was going to reach for the other hybrid. "I have been looking for you for years. Don't go. Please." He had been saying please a lot today.

 Although Jimin didn't touch him, the other hybrid stopped, as if he was unable to leave Jimin behind when he was calling for him. His fists were clenched at his sides and you could see the dried up blood on his knuckles better. It looked like he had left the blood clog up for a day or more instead of cleaning it. It would be easy to get an infection, especially with the dirt and grime all over his clothes and skin.  

"Is she treating you right?" Yoongi asked after a few moments of silence.

 Jimin's eyes widened at the question, brimming with tears. You held your breath. "She's my family." He glanced at you. "She taught me how to cook. She takes care of us and she lets us dress any way we like. She lets us go out alone, too, I haven't yet but I could... We went to the lake and we stayed there all day and had a picnic and... and... I'm- I'm happy. I'm happy, Yoongi."

 Yoongi lowered his head. "You deserve to be happy," he said quietly but even your human hearing picked it up. He took a step forward.

"Wait." You were surprised to hear your own voice. "You should disinfect your cuts, you could get sick if you leave them like this." Not your best, but enough to make his stop and look at you. Jimin gave you a hopeful look. "I have a medical kit in my car, I can clean them and if you want, then you can leave."

Yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly. His hands were shaking. "You know how to give first aid?"

 You nodded. "I have taken a few lessons, I know my way around it."

 "She's really good," Jimin confirmed. Neither of you could forget the night you had met. Purplish bruises, stark white gauze and fearful eyes.

 Yoongi's cat-like ears twitched. It didn't give you any specific answers as to the kind of hybrid he was. His tail was black as well, it stayed low as he contemplated your offer.

"I don't need your help, I'm fine, " Yoongi said. His eyes flickered to the other end of the alleyway. You could sense the internal battle going on inside him, vices gripping his body as he vibrated with something you were hesitant to call nervousness. His eyes locked with Jimin for a moment and his shoulder slumped slightly. "I don't need your help… but there is someone who does. Can you help him?"

 You ignored the suspicious glare and gathered all your confidence. "I can do my best."

 A small nod. "Go get your supplies."

 He stayed glued to the spot so you turned to Jimin. You cupped his cheek gently and said, "I'm going to the car, I'll be back in a moment." The cat hybrid nodded and you speed-walked to the parking lot, thankfully it wasn't too far away. You would have run if you hadn't already been tired from chasing Jimin. You grabbed the first aid kit from the trunk before rushing back. It was a medium sized box, containing all the essentials, from gauze, band-aids and disinfectant to various pills, like Advil and Claritin. "I've got it," you said when you arrived back at the alleyway, finding the two of them in the same spots you had left them.

 Yoongi glanced at you and the white medical kit, and then he was walking away. You took that as a sign to follow him. You slipped your hand in Jimin's, who gave you a small smile, and intertwined your fingers. This neighborhood housed one of your favorite coffee shops, the one you had planned to meet Zayn at, but you hadn’t wandered far from the quiet aesthetic streets with the colorful buildings and the tiny squares.

 As you walked further away, the scenery changed. More graffiti appeared on the walls. Words dripping in red and black. Slurs and protests. You kept Jimin close to your side. After ten minutes of walking, Yoongi stopped in front of a two-story building. The door was hanging off from only one of its hinges, as if holding onto a thread. Shattered windows, peeling paint on the walls and pieces of white plastic sheets angling from seemingly random places didn’t leave any room for doubt whether the building was abandoned.

Yoongi slipped in through the half opened door and disappeared in the partial darkness inside. Two balconies were situated above the door on either side, parts of them chipped off. You were worried they would fall on your heads at any any moment. You tugged Jimin forward and twisted your body to get inside without touching the door or the wall. Jimin did the same and you were faced with an empty room. You couldn't see much, sunlight didn't get in the house properly and the plastic sheets prevented most of the rays from passing through.

 The smell of rot drifted in the air and you could almost feel the dust swirling around. You resisted an instinctual cough. It was mostly in your mind, the feeling that dust was suffocating you, but your mind tricked your body quickly. You ignored it and walked further into the house, leaving footprints behind on the granite floor. The light got dimmer the further you went and your eyes had trouble adjusting. Jimin's eyesight was much better than yours and like cats he could see well in darkness.

 One of the rooms, with the dirtied floral tapestry peeling off from the walls, opened up to a grand staircase. Once upon a time it must have been beautiful, polished wood shining under the light of the chandeliers. You could imagine balls taking place here, women wearing beautiful gowns and men in tuxes made by the biggest names in fashion, mingling and sharing drinks. Now, the room was a ghost of its former glory, a place that belonged in a horror film instead of a period drama.

 Jimin's hand slipped from yours and you reached blindly for him. The room wasn't in total darkness but it was dark enough to make you nervous.

 In all of your observation of the staircase you hadn't noticed that there was something in the space under the stairs. A boy was curled up on a ratty blanket so thin, it must have been doing nothing to shield him from the cold granite underneath. Yoongi was kneeling next to him but you couldn't make out his features or if he was talking or not. You were too far to hear anything and the building was by no means quiet (you had a suspicion that a family of mice or cockroaches had made its home somewhere inside and you prayed you were wrong). You approached cautiously.

 "-alone. Please, don't go again. I'm fine," you could hear the boy saying as you got closer. His voice was croaky, from disuse or pain you weren't sure. He must have been the one Yoongi wanted you to help. You couldn't see him clearly but you could make out the ears peeking out from his hair. Another hybrid.

Yoongi was holding his hand. "You aren't fine, I had to do something. I brought help."

 The boy hadn't noticed you so far, he must have been pretty bad if he didn't hear you coming in and didn’t notice your scent. When his eyes landed on you he only curled up tighter with a whimper.

 "We're here to help you, not hurt you," you said, coming a little closer when Yoongi didn't hiss at you. You showed him the medical kit you were holding. "I only want to help if you let me."

 He didn't uncurl from the ball he had created with his body but Yoongi looked at you expectantly. You knelt on the floor next to the blanket, ridiculously aware of the dust and grime your expensive pants must be gathering. Your mind was jumping from one place to the next so it wasn't surprising that for some reason it decided it was worth it to worry about dirtying your pants. With Yoongi's help, you coaxed him out of the ball so you could start treating him. After turning on the flashlight on your phone, you handed it to Jimin, instructing him to keep it steady while you worked.

The boy clenched his eyes shut at the light, you wondered how long he had stayed here in semi-darkness.

You opened the first aid kit and took stock of the supplies inside, everything was there. You didn't know the extent of his injuries but his labored breathing and sharp flinches whenever he moved told you enough. In the artificial light, you took a better look at the boy laying on the floor. His hair was a reddish shade of orange. A fluffy tail was half-hidden behind his body. A fox hybrid. You had never seen once before.

The awe and curiosity didn’t last long. Your eyes were drawn on his swollen eye, a shocking purple painting his skin. It wasn't the only place tainted with color. His cheek had a purplish bruise as well and his lips were cut in two places. A trail of blood had dried underneath his nose.

"I'll start with your face, okay?" you asked, but the hybrid didn't reply, he just tightened his hold on the blanket. Taking off his clothes, to tend to the rest of the injuries you were sure were hiding underneath, would only make him more uncomfortable. You pulled out a water bottle from your bag, you were always carrying one with you, and poured a small amount on a white cloth. Before the cloth could touch his face, you spoke up, "My name is Y/N. Do you want to tell me your name?"

Wide fearful eyes turned to Yoongi, who gestured vaguely with his hand. "H-Hoseok," the boy whispered.

 "Hoseok," you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. "That's a nice name. I like the way it sounds." Gently, you dabbed the cloth on his bottom lip, the boy flinched at the contact. He didn't pull away so you continued. "I'm not a professional, I'm not a doctor or a nurse or anything. My profession is actually very different from that, though I did have to play nurse a few times. I would like to think I'm quite good at this by now. I've taken a few lessons, I was fascinated with first aid when I was younger. I don't even know why."

 You continued speaking while tending to the wounds on his face. Earlier in your life you had discovered that talking, or at least listening to someone speak, would take the other's mind off the pain a little. By the time you were finished with his face, you had told him the whole story of how you had come to learn first aid and how you had panicked and forgotten everything you had learnt the first time someone had fainted in front of you, only remembering what to do when a friend of yours had pinched you. Hoseok listened to everything you said silently, his lips curling up a tiny bit at the last story. Maybe you exaggerated a bit and you made way too many hand gestures for someone supposed to be tending to his wounds but it seemed to be working.

Yoongi helped him pull off his shirt and you heard a gasp from behind you as his torso was revealed. His body was toned but a few of his ribs were pushing out in ways they probably shouldn't. It wasn't too bad but it was clear he hadn't been eating well for some time. But that wasn't the worst and it wasn't what you noticed first. Large bruises littered his body and what looked like the imprint of a hand was left on his bicep.

Switching topics, you told him about your first time coming to Los Angeles. Hoseok let out a breath as you started speaking again. As you checked his ribs, you recalled your very first days in the city, when you had been as excited as afraid to go to University in a brand new city where you had no friends. He hissed at the contact, but didn't object otherwise. You observed the way he breathed, taking note of the heavy bruising over his ribcage. You applied salve over the area and all the other bruises on his torso and the few on his back, the front had taken the blunt of whatever had happened. You had a suspicion but didn't speak of it yet.

His right arm was broken, he was holding it immobile close to his body. One touch and you were certain of it. Disinfecting a rather large cut on his arm, you wrapped it in gauze after coating the injury in a thin layer of cream. The cream smelled awful and was a sickly green color but you could testify to how effective it was. You did your best to make a cast for the arm, you hadn't done it before outside of a class and it was more of a struggle than you had expected. When his arm was secured in the cast, you trailed off your recounting of a stupid fight you had with one of your cousins that resulted in both of you getting lost. You were done. Hoseok looked at you with wide eyes, as if asking you why you stopped.

"This is it, we're all done," you said, rubbing your hands together with hand sanitizer like you had before treating him. "When did he... get injured?"

"Why do you need to know?" Yoongi asked, at the same time as Hoseok croaked out, "Yesterday."

 "What pill I give him to relieve the pain depends on when he got hurt. Some kinds could slow down the healing process if they are taken less than 48 hours after the injury." Digging into the small suitcase-like kit, you handed him two paracetamol tablets along with the water bottle. There was still had some water inside. "It will numb the pain, it takes about an hour to work," you explained.

 Hoseok tentatively took the pills and bottle from you. He drunk the water in one gulp and you were reminded again that he might have gone without water for some time. "Thank you," he said, his eyes on the blanket.

You sighed, getting up from the floor and dusting off your pants. Just like you had expected, two white patches were left on your knees. "I'm afraid, other than a broken arm, you might have fractured one of your ribs. I noticed the area hurts more than the rest and you have some trouble breathing." Jimin who hadn't moved much while you were working, latched himself on your back. The situation was too familiar for him. The injuries, the smell of the disinfectant and the fear in Hoseok's eyes. And just like that night your heart was clenching, begging you to do more. It worked once, why wouldn't it again? The traitorous organ whispered.

 Yoongi had sat on the blanket next to Hoseok, who had crawled closer to him, his side touching leg. The silence is broken as your phone starts ringing again. You had set it on silent so whoever is calling you must have made many attempts. You are expecting to see Namjoon's name flash on the screen with the wolf and moon emojis, but instead it is the name of one of the producers.

 While tending to Hoseok, you had almost forgotten you had to be at work after the supposedly short trip to the coffee shop. You had to take this. At the other side of the staircase, close to a door that led to what must have been a dining room once, you answered the call.

 Everyone had been looking for you, worried about your absence. You had never been late to work before, often you would show up before you were scheduled to, in order to get some additional work done. Three missed call, that's how many times just the producer had called you. His worry soon turned into irritation, asking you why you didn't inform them and why you weren't answering your phone. They had called everyone close to you to find out what had happened and no one had any answers.

 You were more than an hour late. An hour you were supposed to spend guiding the actors and getting the first feeling of a few scenes. Those plans went down the drain.

 You peeked over the railing of the staircase. Jimin was standing closer to the space Hoseok was laying under the stairs. They were talking but they were being quiet and you couldn't hear what they were saying over the loud voice of the producer coming from the phone and your own too loud thoughts. You tried to explain yourself, staying as close to the truth as possible, which was admittedly difficult. In the end, you used the personal emergency card. Although the producer didn't sound convinced, he let you off, scolding you half-heartedly about calling next time instead of leaving them in the dark looking for you and thinking about the worst.

 Ending the call, you looked through all the ones you missed and the texts they had sent you. You replied to a few of the texts, giving the same answer as you had to the producer. There were several from Zayn, asking where you were and if you were okay. In the final one he asked you to call him as soon as you could. Guilt gnawed at your insides. You had left him alone waiting for you for forty minutes, until he was sure there was no chance of you coming. You were an awful friend. Namjoon had also sent you a few messages. Someone had called the land-line at your house. No word from you. You and Jimin had both disappeared. Cradling your heavy heart, you sent a message to Namjoon assuring him that Jimin was with you and you were both alright. You hoped that would be enough for now.

 Pocketing your phone you walked around the stairs. Closer to them you could pick up parts of their conversation. Yoongi and Jimin were arguing, silent tears streaming down Jimin's face. You held yourself back from running to him and pulling him away from whatever was hurting him. This was Jimin's battle, you would let him fight it. He rarely spoke of the demons of his past but they were many and frightening with long claws and sharp teeth.

 Jimin suddenly reached for your hands. "Tell them, tell them to come home with us. Please, they can't stay here. We have a lot of space in the house, they can take one of the rooms until he heals."

 Your mouth was faster than your brain. That was a problem you didn't have to worry about before but something was changing. "They can come home with us if they want." Yoongi hissed, ready to protest. "A fractured rib isn't a trivial matter, he would need medical supervision but I can guess you don't want to go to a hospital. I can tend to it until he gets better, he will need medication to relieve the pain and plenty of bed rest. This place will only slow his healing."

 "Yoongi, please. Let me..." He stopped with a sniffle. "Just come with us. I need you to come with us." That seemed to break any of the resolve the older hybrid had. Hoseok didn't react at all, remaining curled in on himself.

 "Okay, we'll come," Yoongi said. "We'll come, but we'll leave as soon as he's better.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

It should be way more surprising when you show up at the Castle with Jimin and two unfamiliar hybrids in tow. The initial surprise lasted only a few minutes before everyone just sort of accepts this. Namjoon was the most wary but you couldn't blame him, his instincts were screaming to protect his pack and while Hoseok in his condition was by no means a threat, Yoongi didn't exactly look friendly. Jungkook had hopped away soon after with Jin. The bunny hybrid wasn’t good with strangers. You suspected that he had inherited some bunny instincts that made him jumpy and easily afraid around predators.

You led the two new hybrids to the guest room with the two queen beds on the second floor, and like you had with Jin, you gave them the key. Yoongi looked at you suspiciously but didn't say anything. Hoseok fell asleep as soon as his body hit the soft mattress. Their reaction to the house had been similar to most people’s. Wide eyes and disbelief. It didn’t serve to calm Yoongi down, instead he looked like you had been leading him straight into some sort of trap.

 Jimin stuck close to you as you called John from your office. He was one of the first people your team had called, it just happened that the day they needed him was the day he hadn't accompanied you. He was fuming when he answered, worried out of his mind and, unlike the producer, he didn't let you off easily. You had been rash, forgot about any rational thoughts, put yourself and Jimin in danger, didn't call anyone for backup in case something happened. Those hybrids could have been serial killers for all you knew. The list went on and on.

 "I'm coming over as soon as I can," he said. "I have to see those hybrids for myself. You can't just go around picking up hybrids like they are new projects. What mess have you gotten yourself in this time?"

 "Hopefully, not too big of one," you muttered. "You don't have to come, really. I've got everything under control and it's your week off. I took the rest of the day off so I'll be home. I swear I'll call you if anything happens."

 "There is no way I'm leaving you in the house with two hybrids you just picked up from the street and decided to nurse back to health-"

 "One of them is fine," you interrupted him.

 Yoongi didn't have any visible injuries other than his bloody knuckles and a slit lip he wouldn't let you touch. Even if he had more, there was no way he would let you tend to them.

 "And that makes it better how?" John asked. "I mean, good for him he isn't injured, but that doesn't guarantee your safety. If he is fine, he could try something. Don't forget that hybrid's have human DNA too, there are bad apples regardless of how much you want to keep looking at the good ones. Just because it worked once, doesn't mean it will work again. "

 Jimin was sitting on the edge of your desk, his head tilted to the side. He could hear everything with his hearing. You ruffled his blond hair and he leaned into your touch. "It isn't the same," you said.

"Isn't it? It sounds awfully a lot like something I've heard before." John sighed. "It isn't that I don't trust your judgment, but lately you act then ask questions lately. I trust you but I don't trust everyone you take into your house. They could take all of your jewelry before they disappear or it could be much much worse."

 "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely defenseless." The first years John was assigned to you, he had decided to teach you the basics of self-defense. He couldn't always be with you and you  hadn't been able to throw a punch to save your life. The lessons had paid off and, although you were no black belt student, you could defend yourself to an extent if you had to. "I'm serious, you don't have to come over. What about Alice? She wouldn't want her father running off when he promised her he would spend the week with her."

 John huffed. "You are evil, using my daughter against me."

 "I will add it to my resume," you said. "I'm alright and I'm going to be alright. You know I'm not alone, if anything happens we can count on each other, and you can come in a few days when your break is over and check in."

 "I'll accept this only because I have heard Namjoon growl when he thinks someone in his pack is threatened," you felt warmth seep in your cheeks when John mentioned so casually that you were part of their pack, "and Jungkook has gained enough muscle in the last few months to launch a nice punch if he needs to protect himself or someone." It was difficult to imagine your sweet bunny hybrid punching anyone, especially given the way you had found him, but it was true that the time he spent in the gym paid off.

 John didn't come over. He stayed with his daughter because he had promised they would go to the zoo together as soon as she woke up from her afternoon nap. You went through a few papers after the phone call, reassuring yourself multiple times that the whole TV show wouldn’t crumble because you had taken one day off work (you really needed to work on your sense of self-importance). Jimin had turned his body on the desk so he could see what you were doing without taking up too much space.

 They would be fine without you. The conclusion wasn't hard to reach but you had tortured yourself a lot over it. Missing days of work was almost unheard for you. You scheduled your life around your work schedule, the breaks were on specific dates and you didn't need to take extra ones. To miss work, you had to be so sick you couldn't get out of bed without fainting.

 You put the papers in their respective folders and placed them back on the bookshelves. "Now that we are alone, do you think you can tell me what happened?" you asked, feeling Jimin's eyes on your back.

 "I-" He averted his gaze, his fingers wrapping and unwrapping on the hem of his shirt, wrinkles forming  on the material and smoothing out again. "I'm sorry."

 You walked around the desk, coming closer to him. "That's not what I wanted to hear. A warning before taking off would have been nice, though. My mind went to the worst possibility and you wouldn't answer my calls or wait for me."

 Jimin was about to apologize but stopped himself. "I couldn't lose him. I couldn't stop running, I couldn't lose him again. I couldn't really hear you... It was like a fog was over everything other than the path I was following. I needed to make sure it was Yoongi, that he was alright."

 You touched Jimin's thighs, situating him better on the desk so you were standing between his legs. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

 He hesitated before reaching for your hand and holding it in his. He brought it close to his face and started nuzzling on your wrist. He had told you your scent calmed him and he liked it when your scents mingled. Placing a kiss on the center of your wrist, he pulled back a little, keeping your hand in his.

 "He was there, in my old house," he said. "I was around sixteen when he was brought in. My owner didn't say why he was there but Yoongi is a panther hybrid, he could brag about him to his friend and he was also a guard. He was supposed to be protecting the house, to be protecting me. I was all alone there and then I wasn't. He was suddenly there and I wanted a friend so bad. Yoongi was gentle and he was kind, he would stay with me when I was feeling lonely. He cooked for me when he could, the food was delicious. I remember loving it but I'm not sure it was because of the food itself or because he was the one who had cooked it. Maybe both." He lowered his head, his cat ears pinned to his head. "We did something. We did something very bad. He took Yoongi away and I was returned to the adoption center. I never learnt what he did to him. I thought..." His voice cracked.

 You shushed him, stepping even closer and taking his into your arms. He wrapped his arms around your neck pulling you against his chest. "He's alright. You're safe here. This is a safe place."

 "I know," he mumbled into your shoulder. "I know."

 You cupped his neck with one hand, rubbing small circles with your thumb on his neck. "Do you trust him? Do you trust him to stay here until Hoseok recovers?"

 He nodded. "I trust him, I would trust him with my life."

 You held him in silence for some time, just feeling him breath against your chest. "What did you do with Yoongi?" you asked, curious. Jimin stiffened, you felt like he was holding his breath. "You don't have to tell me."

 His body relaxed a little, leaning on you. "I can't, we shouldn't have done it. We betrayed him. I couldn't hold myself back, I was weak. I'm stronger now, I promise. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if your hated me."

 What he said made you jolt back. Jimin whined lowly but you were quick to cup his soft cheek. "I could never hate you. Nothing in this world could make me hate you," you said, gazing into his watery eyes. Even with tears threatening to fall, he looked beautiful. "My Jiminie. Nothing you say will ever change my feelings about you. Your past doesn't define you. Whatever you did to that man, he deserved it."

 "But you don't."

 You didn't understand what he meant. "What?" You looked into his eyes but you only found sadness there. The small smile on his lips hurt more than his tears would.

 He sniffled. "Don't leave me. Don't throw me away," he pleaded.

 You squeezed his thigh, leaning your forehead against his. "Never, I'll never leave you. I will always watch over you, I swear."

“I’m not worth it. I’m not worthy of the care you give me,” he whimpered.

“You are. You are worth everything and so much more.”

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬♬♩♪♩

 Namjoon was sitting on the largest couch in the living room, a documentary about ocean life playing on TV. His ears twitched a little when he heard you climbing up the stairs. You stayed standing for a moment, watching the screen as a blue whale emerged from the water shooting up a water water spray like a fountain. Their tails flapped against the water. Such magnificent creatures. They were endangered species, the man speaking explained, hunted and killed for their meat and blubber. On top of that, pollution, vessel strikes, entanglement in traps and nets and more.

If there was one thing humans knew how to do is destroy beautiful things.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked.

You shrugged. “Shouldn’t I be asking that? Or some variation of it?” You turned away from the screen and settled on the couch, leaving some distance between you. “I didn’t have the chance to ask you before springing this on you.”

“I can handle it, I think,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think Jimin left you much of a choice if he ran after him. If his mind is set on something, he won’t stop until he gets it.”

“Do you know anything about him? Yoongi? Jimin told me some things but he doesn’t want to say everything.”

Namjoon shook his head. “I didn’t even know he existed until now. Jimin never mentioned it. He doesn’t like talking about his past. I can understand, but then things like this happen. I just wish he shared more with us, so we could help him.”

“I know,” you agreed. “I feel the same. But it’s only temporary. In about a week Hoseok will be well enough to go. Not completely healed, that could take up to a month or more, but he will be better.”

He cracked a small smile. “You can’t really stand there doing nothing, can you?”

You couldn’t, could you? You had always been one to try to help in any way you could. It didn’t matter what the problem was, you wanted to help. An issue at work, a dilemma one of your friends was facing, human rights, poverty, hunger. Homeless injured hybrids. But you usually were careful, you would think the problem over, review all the points and then try to find a solution.

Since when did you throw caution to the wind?

You liked to pride yourself on your mind. You could see the things other people couldn’t and laid new paths when others hadn’t bothered to stray a foot from the blocked road. It felt like you were slipping.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you said, hiding your face in your hands. “Jimin was so sad and Hoseok’s ribs are fractured-”

Namjoon cut you off by tugging at your arm. He pulled you closer to him. “I trust you, you know I trust you.”

“That doesn’t always make things better,” you said, laying your head on his shoulder. “What if I’m wrong? What if you trusted me and I’m wrong? And, I don’t know, something really bad happens.”

“Then we’ll face the consequences together.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll tell you if I think you’re wrong and we will work it out. Now, I’m not sure. We don’t know what happened or why one of them has fractured ribs and a broken arm. I saw the blood on Yoongi’s hands. All we know is that he was part of Jimin’s past.”

The screen was darker as lion fish were swimming around the bottom of the sea, illuminated by blue light. They weren’t afraid of the diver, aware of the poison in their back spines, the narrator said.

You shuffled around a little, getting comfortable on Namjoon’s side. His arm snaked around your waist, settling on your hip. The words unsaid between the two of you were choking you.

“Jungkook came to me earlier,” he said. “He was crying. He told me he had done something horrible, something he couldn’t forgive himself for. It took me hours to calm him down. He said I needed to find Jimin and make sure he was okay. After what he had done, Jungkook said he wouldn’t want to see him again.”

You frowned. “Jungkook said that?” That sounded nothing like the sweet boy you knew. Sure, Jungkook liked joking around, teasing all of you and he could be very stubborn. But he looked at Jimin like he was his muse and whatever he created would be bland and pointless without him. “Jimin caught me last minute before I left the house. He didn’t look well, he was panicked. It was like he was trying to escape something. He didn’t tell me what happened and I didn’t want to push him and make things worse. Where is Jungkook?"

“At the atelier, Jin is there with him. I don't know what we'd do without him," Namjoon said. You agreed. Jin had slotted into your lives like he was always meant to be there. "What about Jimin? Wasn't he with you?"

"He came with me to my office, before I came upstairs he said he was tired and he left to go to your room."

 The sun was setting outside, the sky turning navy as the colors of the day receded. You felt like only a few minutes ago you had been about to walk out the door to meet up with Zayn.

 Namjoon's hand was rubbing your arm up and down, the touch calming something deep inside you. You had so many questions, so many doubts about what you were doing. There were so many ways this could go wrong. Jimin was in a fragile state. If what Jungkook had told Namjoon was true to some extent, Jimin would be in a really bad place. On top of that, a person from his past showing up could ruin all his progress. Most of all, you were afraid your Jimin would get hurt.

 "You're thinking too loud again."

 You groaned, burying your head in his shoulder. "I'm not." You turned to the TV trying to erase the look on your face. The deepest parts of the sea were home to so many creatures. Small and large, all of them had adapted to live in darkness. Adapting. Such an interesting skill.

 You squirmed in Namjoon's arms, he loosened his hold on you so you could sit up straighter. You hadn't talked about the night when you had been beating yourself up for saying the wrong thing, Jin's retreating form, head lowered, haunting you. Namjoon had a way to make your brain go quiet, something you hadn't learnt how to do regardless of how much you tried. You had been floating and for once you had fallen asleep without tossing and turning.

 But you hadn't talked and you couldn't decide if it was better that way or if it would only serve to torment you further. The doubts came, like they always did, and you weren't ready to deflect them.

 Namjoon's clever eyes were on you as you traced invisible swirls from his shoulder, his neck and up his face. Your knuckles ran over his cheek in a feather-light touch. His hand covered yours, bringing it to his mouth and placing a kiss in the center of your palm. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest.

 "Can I?" he asked, leaning closer. You could do nothing but nod. His lips touched yours gently at first, before both of you got lost in the feeling. This kind of kissing was reserved for books and movies, it wasn't something that was supposed to happen in real life and yet... How could you settle for anything less after this?

 This, this was something you could write about. Something to fill up all those blank pages taunting you. Paragraphs upon paragraphs attempting to describe that feeling spreading through your whole body. You could spend your whole life trying to put this moment into words and it would be worth it.

 You pulled back. A flush had crept up on Namjoon's cheeks and his hair was mussed. You probably didn't look any better. Hopefully, your makeup could cover any redness on your skin.

 Your hand was still in his, held against his cheek.

 "What are we doing?" you asked him, breathy from the kiss that had overtaken your whole being. "What does this mean?"

 "What do you want this to be?"

 Your lips twitched up. "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you."

 Namjoon combed a hand through your hair, twisting a strand loosely around his fingers before letting go. "It can mean whatever we want it to mean. Whatever we need it to be."

 On a moment, his back straightened and he looked at the stairs. You followed his gaze but saw nothing. A few seconds later, your human ears were able to pick up steps climbing up the staircase. You got up from the couch and straightened the wrinkles on your clothes. An itch to change into clean clothes nagged at you, preferably after taking a nice long shower, but there were still things needed to be done.

 Black hair was the first thing you saw before the rest of Jin came into view, but you had already guessed who it was by the careful steps he was taking. Living with them, you could distinguish between the ways they climbed up the stairs. Jungkook ran up, eager to reach his destination. Jimin occasionally skipped some steps, light on his feet like he was floating his way up. Namjoon's step were light as well and he was the most likely to miss, stalking up the stairs silently as if on a hunt. Jin was careful and measured in everything he did and this was no different.

 The sugar glider hybrid glanced around, his eyes landing on the two of you in the living room. He shifted his weight on his feet.

 "Hey," you said softly, coming closer. "Is Jungkook still in the atelier ?"

 Jungkook was nowhere to be seen, even though he tended to stick to the other hybrids like glue. Whatever had happened earlier was enough to make him change his habits.

 "He's in the middle of a painting," Jin said, biting his bottom lip. It was obvious he was worried as well, but trying to make excuses for the youngest. "I'm going to cook dinner."

 The sun had set by now but you couldn't comprehend how late it had gotten. Time to make dinner. On an average work day you would be wrapping up now and checking off the tasks you had completed, making sure everything was going according to plan before leaving.

 "I'll help you then," you said, nudging his hands with yours. The two of you go to the kitchen and Jin starts pulling out bowls from the cupboards. "What are we making?"

 Jin paused. "Now that you're here, we can make whatever you want. But I can cook. You should rest, you must be tired."

 "No more tired than usual." It was true in a weird way. Your body was actually feeling less like it would need to sleep for a week to restore all its functions and more like something heavy you didn't recognize had wrapped itself around your shoulders. "You? How are you feeling?"

 Jin fiddled with one of the bowls. "I'm alright."

 On a couple shelves, away from where most of the action took place, your cookbooks were lined in neat rows. You picked up one of your favorites, the well-known chef smiling at you from the cover.

 "It's okay if you aren't," you said. "It was very unexpected. It'd be understandable if you felt uncomfortable or upset. I didn't get a chance to warn you before bringing practically two strangers into your home."

 The bowl was apparently very fascinating for Jin because he was looking nowhere else as he forced a smile. "I couldn't be upset. I was a stranger coming here, too."

 You left the cookbook on the counter. "The circumstances were different. I had called the others before adopting you and we had all agreed that I would bring you home with me. I adopted you, you came to stay. They will be leaving soon."

 "It's just... I'm not used to strangers," he admitted.

 You moved around the kitchen island, standing next to him. You gave him space in case he wanted to move away but he only leaned closer to you. "This is your home and all I want for you is to feel safe here. I'm sorry I didn't call you to ask before bringing them here. I don't want you to act like you don't mind if you actually do. You have a right to be upset."

 You brought your foreheads together, rubbing gently. A rare purr escaped Jin and although his cheeks reddened he didn't pull away at the sound like he used to do.

 The kitchen filled with noise as you started preparing the dishes. You had decided on chicken with honey and garlic as the main dish and you would make a few side-dishes because you didn't know what the new hybrids liked to eat. Halfway through, when you had added the honey, the diced garlic and the soy sauce in the pan, the itch under your skin got too long and you left to go shower.

 Washing away the day felt almost cathartic. The worst parts of it falling down the drain. It was your favorite part of coming home, second only to seeing your hybrids and spending time with them. Freshly washed and dressed into sweatpants and a comfortable top, you got out of your room. Dinner wasn't ready yet but Jin didn't need any more help. Any other day you would get your laptop and open one of the files in your to-do-list but this time you climbed down the stairs to the second level.

 Knocking on the door, you took a step back and waited.

 "Who is it?" a gruff voice you recognized as Yoongi's called from inside.

 "It's Y/N." You didn't elaborate further, curious to see what he would do. Contrary to what you had expected, you heard the key being turned. The door opened, Yoongi peeking at you through the crack.

 "What do you want?"

 "Dinner is almost ready," you said. "I came to check in on you. Has Hoseok woken up? I wanted to see how well the medication worked."

 You could sense Yoongi contemplating shutting the door in your face before  a small voice from inside said, "I'm awake."

 Yoongi muttered under his breath but opened the door further letting you in. The room was mostly untouched, only the bed Hoseok had been sleeping in gave an indication that someone had been inside. Yoongi had taken a shower but changed back into his own clothes, which he had pulled out from the small duffel bag. The green duffel bag, as worn as their clothes, was the only thing they had carried with them. It was small and certainly not enough for two people to live out of.

 Hoseok was laying on the bed, making himself as small as he could without aggravating his injuries. In the hand that wasn't in the cast, he was clinging to the blanket he had with him in the abandoned building. It desperately needed to be washed but you weren't sure it could be salvaged. The light in the room was in the lower setting not to aggravate his eyes. His fluffy tail was curled around his waist, dirt staining it and parts sticking together with grime.

 He stuttered answering your questions but overall he looked better. The granite floor with only a thin blanket to lay on wasn't a place someone could actually rest on. You offered to bring him some clothes to change into. Unlike Yoongi, he accepted.

 Jacob's clothes had really come in handy. You would have never guessed that you would find a use for them when he left them behind. You had even considered throwing them out at one of your lowest points. Jacob's promise to remain friends and the excuse he would be coming over had been proven a lie or just wistful thinking. They weren't taking too much space, considering how large your closet was, but you had no use for them but sentimental memories you no longer needed. Until February, that is.

 Some of Namjoon's clothes would fit Hoseok better, but you dismissed the idea without considering it. The hybrid's scent would be too prominent on the clothes. Jimin liked wearing the others' clothes because he claimed he loved being enveloped in their scents. It was also the reason he had stolen one of your hoodies that fit him and refused to give it back.

 Jacob's scent had faded from his clothes after so many months, Namjoon had confirmed it. He had left in early December, five months had come and passed since then. You could remember the months leading up to the break up. It wasn't the fights, there weren't many of them, but the silence and the distance that had broken you. You had been at work all day and he had been at the studio. When he went out you either couldn't go because you were busy or you were too tired to. He didn't get your hobbies. He wasn't a fan of reading and he didn't let you listen to his tracks before they were ready. You weren't good at giving feedback, he had told you laughing after you had said the track felt like something was missing in the chorus. You had been getting further and further apart for more than a year. The house was but a way to fool yourself that everything was alright.

 Yoongi had helped Hoseok shower, following your advice to not ruin the cast on his arm and wet the bandages you had wrapped around some of the deeper wounds.

 Dinner was different. You had carried two trays down with Jin's help for the two hybrids. It was better for Hoseok not to move and even if he could, Yoongi wouldn't be thrilled at the idea. Jungkook didn't come up for dinner. He wouldn't leave the atelier and Jin carried another tray to him, because there was no way he would let him go without eating. Jimin asked after him. He didn't speak for the rest of dinner picking up the food on his plate with a guilty expression on his face.

 John did come the next morning. He didn't press and didn't threaten anyone, not that you had expected him to but it was a relief nonetheless. John was an intimidating man with his height and bulkiness. Yoongi hissed, backing into a corner when he saw him. John looked him up and down, taking in his split lip, the bruises and his worn clothes, and then showed you a picture of his daughter on his phone. Yoongi regarded him for a little longer before disappearing again.

 Jungkook and Jimin were avoiding each other. Jungkook did everything in his power not to find himself in the same room as Jimin, getting up and leaving whenever Jimin entered. The hurt on Jimin's face was heartbreaking every time it happened. You tried to comfort him but you couldn't do much when you were gone most of the day and you had to check Hoseok's injuries every morning and night.

 You were in your office scanning a few documents when the email was delivered. Your hand froze, unable to comprehend the contents at first.

 There was a knock on the half-opened door. Namjoon walked inside. "Are you coming for dinner?"

 You looked up from your phone. "I have to go to Virginia the day after tomorrow."

[tokoyamisstuff]

This Is New For Me

Loki x Reader

Summary: Life on Asgard can be straining - especially if the God of Mischief has taken a liking to you.

Warnings: Loki being so terrible at flirting it physically hurts, bullying, this got way angstier than I initially intended

Words: ~2800

A/N: I’ve written this trying to distract myself from personal problems, but honestly I can’t think straight rn. Dunno I kinda hate how this turned out but here you go I guess...sorry.

Loki Odinson must really despise you.

No matter how often Thor would stand up for his brother and try to justify his behavior, there was no other explanation for you other than that he must truly hate you with every essence of his being.

In the beginning, having been invited in the palace to train magic under the Allmother sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime chance - yet all that’s left from your initial excitement had been replaced by pure annoyance.

Lately, whenever you knew that you had to attend class with that certain raven-haired prince, your insides would churn before you even arrived.

Weeks have turned into months, never once ceasing his condescending remarks or childish pranks. Of course, he wasn’t called the God of Mischief for nothing.

All nine realms had tales to tell about his sheganinans - yet with you, he seemed especially invested. There was not one encounter where he could leave you at peace, always ending with you being victim to his wicked humor. 

The man did not seem to respect you at all - and it made you furious.

Today, you’d show him just what you were capable of!

“Greetings, great Allmother.” Polite as always, you bowed deeply in front of your queen, her magnificent presence still making you jittery beyond belief.

“No need for formalities, my lovely student” she responded heartily, only making you admire her even more - until a loud, exaggerated sigh cut through the calm atmosphere.

“Her again?” There he stood, maintaining his defensive pose as he rolled his eyes at you. “Mother, why would you keep on bringing a lowlife like her to defile this holy place?”

This was probably the millionth time that Frigga apologized deeply for her son’s behavior, and you were always amazed by her patience with him. How could a person so formidable end up raising such a troublemaker?

But then again...if she believes that there is good in the God of Mischief, then so would you.

“For today, I have prepared a spell that can only be cast by two mages at once”, Frigga explained, while Loki would still not bid you a single look. “So throughout this lesson, you will need to work together to succeed.”

Irritation was clearly visible on his face - and if you were perfectly honest, you weren’t really fond of that idea either. Yet if it was your scolar’s wish, none of you would protest.

“Spontaneous creation of complex concepts puts a huge stroll on one’s mind and body, so do not be frustrated if it doesn’t work within the first try.”

The idea was simple: Create a blooming meadow in midst of the palace floor, since creating life would be way too complex - only masters of the sorcery arts could take this spell to completion.

You and Loki were now sitting on the bare floor in front of each other and only now you realized how tense he had become, sweat dripping from his forehead and biting his bottom lip.

Was your presence really so terrible that he couldn’t bear with it?!

“Hey” you whispered, taking his hands to form a ring just as instructed “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get this!”

“I don’t need your encouragement...” he spat between gritted teeth, now that you noticed his palms were just as sweaty as his face seemed to be.

One second. Two, tree...fourty....a hundret and two...

“Relax” Loki repeated to himself as if it was his mantra - but now, with your fingers entangled in his? Sheer impossible.

Distraught, he shot his mother a desperate look, just for her to point  towards you, sitting cross-legged and seemingly completely relaxed.

Since your eyes were closed, Loki took this chance to observe every detail of your face, without having to fear that you’d notice his little infatuation.

By the norns - you were as fair and bewitching as always. So way, way out of his league. An unreachable, vigorous being. No angel, valkyrie or similar could ever reach up to you - at least in his eyes.

Was this what they called love at first sight? Loki only knew those sentiments from novels he always ridiculed before he got to know you.

Slowly and steadily, Loki aligned his breathing pattern with yours, picturing the cycle of energy the two of you formed. Carefully, he began infusing you with his magic, trying his best to allow yourself do the same to him.

Another minute passed by and you were finally able to let your magic flow through each other’s bodies entirely, like a serene stream.

With things being like this, he felt so different from the Loki you knew.

His magic was strong, indeed - but so gentle, warm and somehow comfortable to be coated with. You wondered-

“HEY!”

As soon as Loki slapped your hand away, breaking the cycle, all of the flowers that had previously bloossomed through you would wither in an instant.

“What the hel do you think you’re doing, you mewling quim?!” Loki shoutet as loud as his lungs allowed him to, while his mother’s face distorted in second-hand-embarrasment at her son’s choice of words. “Who do you think you are?!”

“I-I’m sorry, I just-” You only wanted to scan his emotions through the magic bond you shared, just peek under the cover for a mere second - what was he so afraid of you to find?

“Know your place, woman!” The god pointed at you before he rushed up, ignoring the ache in his heart as he saw your face contort in sadness. “You are beneath me, never forget that!”

Why were you even surprised?

“You’re right” you sniveled quietly as you balled a fist in your dress, and Loki hated himself so much that he wished to just disappear. “My apologies. You don’t have to put up with me ever again.”

As always, instead of fighting, you made your leave without ever fighting back.

Frigga’s pleads for you to stay and talk this over were all for naught when you rushed away, muttering curses directed towards youself rather than anyone else.

Instead of scolding her son, she’d punish him through her silence, furiously shaking her head as she rushed away as well.

Why did he always have to ruin everything?!

The God of Mischief was very well aware that whenever you were close, his mind went completely blank - and that made him panic.

Never before he had felt so goddamn vulnerable in front of anything, terrifying him beyond belief.

And Loki loathed that feeling: Losing control over himself, being reminded once again how alone and  unloveable he is, facing a goddess as stunning as you are every single day.

So he concluded it to be best to cope like he did all those millenia: Cover up those insecurities, shove his anxieties in the back of his heart and protect his heart from anyone coming close.

Good thing you believed that presumptupus, disoblinging duplicity of his to be his true self.

That would make it easier for the both of you, having as much distance as humanly possible. Vicinity could become dangerous terrain.

Yes, he would only save you some time - it would be a waste if you would try to actually give him a chance, just to be let down by what kind of disappointment he truly was.

But it wouldn’t end here - since the only way Loki Odinson first and only communication was through causing mischief.

A scream of yours startled the servants early in the morning, with your personal maiden being the first to rush to your side.

“Milady, wha-” She stopped in her tracks as she saw you standing in front of the mirror, touching your scalp in disbelief, where everything had been cut short.

That was it. Enough of it!

Dismissing the servants, you took a scissor and tried to at least make an acceptable hairstyle out of the mess he had made, before you would leave to the royal garden.

“You!” Pointing towards Loki, innocently sitting on a bench to watch the sunrise, you screamed and let a strand of hair run from your fingers to the floor. “You did this!”

“Now relax, would you” he chuckled, wearing his smug grin like a trophy as he defendingly held his hands into the air. “You should be grateful, it looks much better like this.”

Next thing he knew was the feeling of your backhand, mercilessly crushing against his collarbone.

Usually, you’d be shocked at yourself, for you had never been a person to choose violence ever before - but right now, you were too full of anger and hurt to even realize.

“You conniving craven pathetic worm!” you exclaimed, breathing heavily as you swung yet another fist towards the prince - however, he grabbed your wrists, trapping you in his hold.

In his life full of wrongdoings, he had been called worse than that - yet still, hearing insults coming from you of all people shot arrows through his heart with every word escaping his lips. Not that he’d ever admit, though.

“It was just a little prank.” Loki would’ve never thought that his actions would affect you this much. “What are you so worked up about?”

“All this time I believed there could be a good person beneath all that...but now what?” The compassion you detected in his eyes were only upsetting you even more. “You are a selfish, cruel and terrible person, and I gave up on you.”

Loki let go off of you, staring at you in disbelief:

You actually believed in him, all this time?! That was impossible!

If anything, the Odinson had always believed you to ignore his existence completely, if he wouldn’t use such drastic measures to attract your attention.

“Wait a second, I-”

“I hope you know that you deserve to be alone...” you sniveled, turning around to face him one last time before you fled the scene. “And you always will be.”

Several minutes had passed until Loki had given up in silencing he voices inside his head that told him you were right: He was indeed a despicable being, tainting your pure goodwill - repelling anyone that would still be willing to give the God of Mischief a chance.

Out of a whim, he jumped up from his place, wanting to rush after you. He was very well aware that he was probably beyond forgiveness by now, yet he at least wanted to make things up to you - even though he had no clue where to start.

“Calm down, Lady Y/N.”

Thor’s voice drang to Loki’s ears just a mere second before he saw that particular heart-wrenching scene unfold in front of him:

You were lying in his brother’s arms, crying to your heart’s extend while soothed you, softly petting what remained from your hair.  Loki remained hidden in the shadows, even though his guts told him to stab his brother right here and now.

“My brother...you know-” The God of Thunder was trying to find the right words, even though poetic speeches were not really his forte. “It’s just his speecial, twisted way of interacting. Who knows where he got that from.”

“I rather wonder if he realized how his behavior truly makes me feel” you snapped back, unwilling to keep defending him. “Weak and worthless, that’s how I feell. And every time our ways cross, he’s making it worse!”

By the gods, Loki never wanted to make you feel that way, let alone think such ways about yourself! He of all people, who knew best what its like to feel unfit and nowhere near enough.

Loki grabbed the fabric of his shirt tight, feeling that his heart might burst if he didn’t. It took everything in him to not let out a loud sob and be caught - but then, his brother snapped him out of it with an impossible question:

“Do you still love him?”

“L-Love might not be the right word, I mean-” Lately, you had let Thor in on your secret admiration for his younger brother. “With the way he’s treating me, and all-”

You just couldn’t help being drawn to him against all reason. After everything you had endured, just to be close to him - and he never even acknowledged your feelings.

And still, here you were, crying over a man that didn’t want you.

“Lady Y/N?”

Loki’s voice made you panic, immediately wriggling out of Thor’s embrace. The Odinson understood immediately, nodding towards his brother before leaving the two of you alone.

“Since when have you been standing there?!” Panic dropped to your stomach, wondering just how much he had heared.

“From the very beginning.”

Before you could even think about what to do now, Loki summoned a dagger, cutting off his raven locks in one swift move. “Wha-”

“Please, accept this as means of apology.” The man now dropped to one knee, humbly facing the ground. “I have never intended to make you doubt your most perfect self.”

Frantic, you were scanning his voice, face, anything for the slightest hint of a lie - but nothing. Loki seemed determined and sincere when he looked up to you, hesistantly taking a hold of your hand.

“This is new for me...” he uttered under his breath as his lips graced your knuckles, and only now you realized that he was trembling ever so slightly. 

“I-Is that another trick?!”

“What kind of vicious being do you think I am?” Well, after everything he had commited it was only natural of you accusing him. “There are lines not even I do not cross.”

Only for a brief second your heart felt a little bit lighter, as his eyes were locked with yours, lost in this moment you have been waited for so long...

...a little too unexpected, right?

Suddenly, you tugged your hand away, and Loki could only sigh in frustration. Of course it won’t be that easy for him to gain your trust. “I don’t need your pity, Loki...”

No matter how he racked his brain around the matter, he had burdened your shared past probably beyond the point of repair.

That would be his last chance, maybe the last time he’d ever see you again. He was so desperate in his attempt, and yet - what else could he do?

So for the first time in millenias, the God of Mischief decided to speak from the heart for a change:

"Y/N, I-I...As I said, this is new for me, so...” he cleared his throat before continuing, stress literally dropping out of every pore. “From the first day we’ve met, you...I mean...you were the most magnificent being I ever laid eyes upon, and...when I think about it now, I-I may be enarmored with you.”

Your eyes widened at this wholeheartedly confession, a sincere smile playing on his lips in contrast of sole tears running down his face.

Never before you had seen him like that: Flustered, vulnerable, and honest...

“I thought to be unworthy of your affection, so I tried to belittle you, to...I don’t even know. I’ve been told many times I am quite assertive of anyone but myself. I-I mean, I am a mess...I don’t understand my own feelings and thus drive away any chance of happiness, and...how could you ever-?”

“Mhh...” you silenced the man as your lips crushed over his, falling straight into his arms. It took Loki quite a second to fully grasp the situation before deepening the kiss, his arms wrapping around you as if you’d disappear if he was to ever let go.

“Y/N...” the prince gasped when your lips parted from that breathtaking kiss - and this time it was you who wore that thug grin on your face.

"Apology accepted” you giggled, just to smother the face of this flabbergasted man in yet another thousand smaller kisses.

This had to be a dream, he thought...and immediately, a wave of guilt washed over him. He did not deserve this in the slightest.

“Now, don’t give me that look.” Cupping Loki’s face in your hands, you gifted him that heartwarming expression he had ignored for so many years, thinking it was not meant for him. “That kiss wiped my memory from everything you’ve done...by now.”

Out of sheer, genuine happiness, Loki leaped from the floor and excitedly swirled you around in his arms.

After another kiss that would kick the air right out of your lungs. the god would peck a more gentle one afterwards, as sweet and tender as no one ever thought he could be.

Even if it’s gonna be a long way, Loki would prove to be worthy of your love.

“Lady Y/N...if you are to believe in me, then I swear I will be on my best behavior from now on!”

"Let's see about that."

[cdroloisms]

more of the mutually assured destruction duo, post-prison this time! this one was really fun, thinking about what this dynamic might be like in the future gives me SO much brainrot, im so excited. this one’s also a little dark, so make sure to read the warnings + tags !! :D 

tw: implied prison abuse, starvation, toxic relationship, touch starvation, manipulation, panic attack, trauma, blood, injury

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison.

And it's ironic, because Wilbur hasn't even been around, has been in hell for fuck's sake playing Competitive Solitaire for nine-odd years, but even he could've seen the self-destruction hanging like a cloud around the other's head from a million miles (and several months? years?) away. Perhaps, he thinks wryly, you can only see the signs when you've lived them, or maybe red flags don't raise alarm when you’ve painted the entire figure in blood, but it doesn't really matter, in the end, because the final result is the same.

Still, it's just a little funny when he's stopped in the middle of his journey through the Nether, not a piece of armor on him per usual and an unused netherite sword slung over his hip.

"Hello, Sapnap." The kid is standing in front of him, eyes gleaming in badly-hidden anger and desperation, smoke rising from the mottled red-black skin on his hands. "Fancy seeing you around."

"You-" Sapnap sputters, unable to speak as his face flushes red in frustration, and Wilbur smiles at him condescendingly. The expression on the other's face is one he's seen before - one Tommy had been particularly inclined to give him in the past, when his emotions raged so heavily that there was nothing for the pressure to do but build, too thick and heavy to force themselves out of his throat. "You're monsters," Sapnap manages, finally, and Wilbur quirks an eyebrow.

At least we're self-aware, he thinks, the all-too-familiar twinge of irritation at Tommy's - and apparently, Sapnap's particular brand of reckless naivety pulsing at the base of his skull. He lets none of these thoughts show on his face as he cocks his head to the side, smiles wider - and Sapnap, just like Tommy, takes the bait.

'Why are you smiling?" He looks achingly young - they all do, really, their expressions and reactions dripping with a sort of innocence and sincerity that dissolved from Wilbur's own face somewhere around the fifteen-hundreth game of poker, and it really does feel ironic, how quickly the outside world can fall apart compared to the unending constancy of the void - but he digresses.

He didn't know Sapnap well before his whole death thing, and as much as he wants to use his partner to get information on the other members of the server, he doesn't really think Dream is really even lucid enough for that - the man clearly hasn't been thinking clearly, not for a long time. It doesn't matter, though, because you learn to read people when your life becomes nothing but running the same broken-edged memories over and over again in your mind and smiling jaggedly over the same few card games - Wilbur had always been a people watcher, and Sapnap's feelings are stamped on every corner of his face.

"Monster, huh," he says, saying the word slowly, rolling it over his tongue like he's tasting it for the first time, watching from the corner of his eye as Sapnap squirms, "Interesting word you've got here. You use it often?"

Sapnap bristles, smoke curling from his nostrils - "It's what you are, dickhead."

Rolling his eyes internally, Wilbur keeps up the act, humming as he fiddles idly with his cufflink. "I mean, if you really believe that," he rocks forward on his right foot, stifling a smile at the way the younger draws back, "But really, it's all a matter of perspective." He twists himself around, pivoting around his heel, beginning to walk in an arc around Sapnap's left side, watching as he spins around, shoulders drawn up to his ears. "What do you think?"

"I think that you're full of shit," he says, voice flat, and Wilbur laughs. It's genuine, really, because well - Sapnap's different. He's fun; the entire server is, after so long in the void. You can only spend so much time with the same two people before they drive you a little up the metaphorical wall, but Sapnap's reactions are fresh and new and different, still saturated with vitality that hasn’t been leached out by the same deck of cards in the same scarred hands shuffled and reshuffled for eternity. He's interesting, and new, and most of all, predictable.

"Say, Sapnap," he continues, blowing over the other's anger, knowing that it'll only make the frustration build more. He lets his hair flop lazily over one eye, lets his smile grow wider, lips pressed together in amusement, turns his face so that it's lit eerily by the lava lake beneath them. "If we're monsters for, I don't know, setting off a few stacks of TNT," he waves his hand flippantly, watching the muscle of the other's jaw jump in poorly-hidden rage, "What does that make you for what you did to Dream?"

Sapnap's eyes go wide, and Wilbur knows he's struck the jackpot. He lets his lips part to reveal bared teeth, jagged and glinting in the light. "I'm sorry, did that hit a nerve?"

The kid's mouth opens- closes- emotions warring on his face, fists curling and uncurling at his sides, lip trembling. "We- we had to-" his hands come to his face, palms digging into his eyes, and while he's not looking, Wilbur draws his expression back a bit, becoming softer, more welcoming. When Sapnap looks back up, his eyes are shining, hands shaking still; he steps forward, then rocks back on his back foot like he doesn't know where to go. "What do you mean?" he throws the words like they're meant to be a threat, but by the end his voice has devolved into something high-pitched and keening, overflowing with desperate grief that Wilbur latches onto like a starving man (ha) with his last meal.

"I'm sorry, it does seem rather insensitive for me to assume," he resumes pacing around the other, voice lilting, soft, "I just mean, it seemed pretty obvious, don't you think? I don't think I've ever seen someone so skinny, really, but I guess that is what happens when you get starved,"

"Shut up-"

"Not to mention the whole panicking thing, I mean, he's like Tommy sometimes with all of the fucking shaky breathing and mumbling around like creepers, not that I'd know what all of that's about," he watches Sapnap through half-hooded eyes, darkly amused, "and pickaxes, oddly enough, but oh well. Who am I to judge?"

"Shut up-"

"And all of the scars - I thought they were from you, honestly, he told me about the whole 'taking his last life' thing, but then he jumped into lava one day - I guess there wasn't much to do in that cell, huh? He didn't even scream, it's really pretty fucking incredible - I thought I'd actually have to break him down a bit, but really, you've made my life so much easier-"

"SHUT UP-"

Wilbur watches with a too-wide grin as Sapnap finally, finally charges, a netherite sword appearing in his hand as he races blindly ahead, tears shining on his cheeks, his words more pain than thought as he brings the blade down-

A blur of purple, the sound of crumbling netherrack and metal meeting metal, flesh hitting flesh - Wilbur moves smoothly out of the way as Sapnap crashes to the ground, an armored figure bearing down an axe against the shield he's raised between them.

Dream, hair tangled and long, wearing armor that is far too heavy for his skinny frame, every inch of him shaking in panic, should hardly be a threat - but this is Sapnap, weakened by Wilbur's sharp words and crippled by the shock of seeing his former best friend's face again, eyes still unfocused from the rage and tears that had clouded over them moments before, so he can do little but raise his shield as the netherite slams into it, again and again. Not a word falls from Dream's lips, but he brings down the weapon at a ruthless pace - ever since he's been free, his attack style has changed greatly from the defensive style he used to favor, even to Wilbur's untrained eye - there's no skill, no art to the way he attacks anymore, just the fearful ferocity of a dog trapped in a cage for far, far too long.

He finally kicks Sapnap down the netherrack cliff that they're on, the other man left to nurse his wounds below them - Wilbur doesn't bother sparing him another thought; Dream's far too weak to cause any permanent damage. Instead, he approaches his partner, weapon, with a smile, watching, satisfied, when he whirls around with a manic expression.

"I'm alright, see?" he croons as Dream's shoulders move up and down with his heaving breaths, eyes fever-bright, teeth bared. He brings a hand down on the other's shoulder and watches as he flinches at the movement, breath hitching, every muscle freezing, knuckles pale on the handle of his axe, before moving again, stumbling forwards, hands reaching for Wilbur's head and stopping halfway. Wilbur tips his head forward, lets the shorter brush his face with trembling fingers, checking his unmarred skin for blood through the purpling bruises already forming on his cheek, and thinks how powerful he is to have a god at his beck and call, a perfect attack dog brought to heel, death itself obediently at his side.

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison, and as Wilbur runs his hand up and down his back, feeling the way his spine arches at the touch, at the fluttering pulse under the skin-and-bone wrist under his fingers, he thinks how fortunate he is to be the first to notice.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Let’s Talk: Jimin’s & Tae’s confessions (RUN Episode 141)

by Admin 1

Originally, I planned on writing a summary or vmin cut of the RUN episode but then I transcribed Jimin’s and Tae’s confessions and it got me thinking, and now here we are. Instead of a summary here are some of my musings and thoughts about their confessions and how they are right in line with things they’ve said in the past, and even quite recently, as well as how it fits with something Namjoon said in 2020 about them as well. I hope this will at least be somewhat interesting.

So, first, let’s look at Jimin’s confession, since this is longer and was first in the episode:

Jimin’s Confession

Jimin: Sometimes I am blunt. I’m like that at times. 

Na PD: Taehyung, has Jimin ever said anything bluntly to you?

Tae: Nowadays, he's really putting in effort to fix that to the point where it rarely happens anymore. Jimin tends to be very hard on himself, which also broke our hearts to see. 

Na PD: So, he gets stressed from himself, then gets mad at himself...

Tae: Then gets mad at himself.

Na PD: ...and then he blurts remarks.

(here it was a bit unclear (for me at least) which of the two said which line so I’m sorry if I mixed them up)

Jimin: It’s something I want to be forgiven for.

Tae: But Jiminie being blunt and me being blunt is completely different. Jimin has a kind hearted nature on the regular.

Na PD: Right.

Jimin: Are you usually not like that?

Tae: I’m, well...

The other members stop Tae, since it’s not time for his confession, and instead the question is posed by JK if they forgive Jimin to which everyone says yes.

Tae: You’re innately kind at heart. stretches out hand for handshake.

Jimin: Thank you. Jimin thinks (?) Tae might be going for a fist bump since he gives him his fist instead, which Tae still takes and shakes.

The first thing about this that caught my attention, as well as one of our anons, was the fact that instead of choosing literally any of the other members, Na PD turned to Tae and asked him to verify if something like that (as in Jimin being blunt) ever happened toward him. You could say we’re thinking too much here, interpreting too much into it, and yet it doesn’t change the fact that he chose to ask Tae. Of course it could be because he said at the start of the program that he feels closest to Tae since he heard about him from two of his Wooga squad friends, but it might’ve just as well been because he watched the members for a while already at that point (since they’d already been filming a few hours) and perhaps he did notice how Tae and Jimin naturally gravitate toward each other, have this special bond? Other people who worked with them in the past noticed it, so why wouldn’t he?

There’s actually moment where Jimin turns and says Taehyungie like he wants to ask him something or say something to him which isn’t in the subs and the members don’t notice it either so Jimin never got to actually say whatever he wanted to say. Also, we’ve all seen how Tae and Jimin behaved during the game in the previous episode, how happy, smiley and giggly they were while being silly together.

Then the actual confession itself, Jimin saying that he can be blunt at times, toward others but also especially toward himself. We’ve heard many times from Jimin about how much of a perfectionist he is, how he can get mad at himself for mistakes, how he sometimes speaks without thinking which can end up a bit mean/blunt, and now he’d like to be forgiven for it.

This actually reminded me of something he said to Tae before:

FESTA 2020 from 42:56 min onward (context - the question was: have you felt disappointed in or sorry to the member to your right?):

Jimin: For Taehyung I should say if I compare those two feelings to him I was more hurt than sorry. Over time, it was reversed. Now I don’t feel slighted. I’m more sorry about things. Back then we were buddies so we had a lot of disagreements or didn’t admit that we were wrong. So I felt disappointed about little things. Now he listens to me well so I feel sorry that I talked to him harshly and every little thing.

The last line especially sticks out to me. I know there’s some language nuance here that got lost in translation which wisha mentioned when the FESTA 2020 video was posted (but is now gone since her twt was suspended), and yet it doesn’t change that fact that it fits with Jimin’s confession, how he was harsh to Tae in the past but now feels sorry for it, and with what Tae said, that Jimin is now making an effort to fix that behavior, to not be so blunt/harsh anymore.

It’s so interesting to me to see these mentions of what could be seen as character flaws over the years, things that make them inherently human. Also it fits with what we know about the evolution of vmin, how they used to have disagreements, have issues with proper communication but over time worked on it, got better at it to the point where they can now understand each other by just looking into each other’s eyes, and Tae’s words about Jimin, how he’s an angel, the warmest person he ever met, and now how he has a kind hearted nature, therefore the bluntness is not taking away from it in any way.

There was also something about this in Jimin’s solo RollingStone interview which caught my attention:

(btw, if you haven’t yet, I highly recommend reading the main and solo RollingStone interviews because they are really, really good!)

Taehyung’s confession

Tae: Compared to the other members, I’m very lazy. Once I’ve set my mind on something, to get that into action, it takes me up to 2 months. I’m start working out, then quit. I’ve quit projects midway too. I’m the type where if I’m not feeling it, I don’t do it. There are times when I feel sorry to the members. 

Someone (I can’t pinpoint the voice): How would be summarize this?

Jimin: You’d usually call this as “irresponsible”. He lacks responsibility,

Tae: I’m still an amateur. 

Na PD: “I lack responsibility and am lazy”. Is that how we can understand it?

Tae: Yes.

Jimin: To be honest, we don’t think it’s to that extent, but if that’s what he feels... we forgive him.

Something I love about what Jimin said (in far fewer words than I will use because you know me, I can’t keep myself short) is that he essentially did two things at once, being: he assured Tae (and the viewers) that him and the members think differently, don’t see it as severely as Tae does himself, and then he also acknowledged the validity of Tae’s words, that even if Jimin doesn’t agree with him, Jimin knows that those feelings are still valid, that that’s what Tae feels and that, at the end of the day, even if the members don’t agree, they can’t change Tae’s mind, can’t force him into seeing things differently. The only person who can do that is Tae himself, and that’s okay. Jimin and the other members will still quietly support and reassure him when needed until he’ll “fix” this weakness, if that is something he wants to do.

This really shows how in tune with Tae Jimin is, but also how emotionally intelligent he is. Beautiful. Also, notice how Jimin said that without being asked to do so, which will come into play again a little later in this post and why I point it out specifically again.

Listening (or rather reading along) as Tae said that, it reminded me of something he said a few months ago:

Taehyung BE-hind Story Interview from 5:49 min onward:

Q: How do you cope when it’s hard to work/with these situations?

Tae: I’m very true to my emotions so uh...if I can’t write the songs or can’t come up with a title I just don’t. Like now! 

Yoongi: That’s actually the best way. 

Tae: I just don’t write it like how I’m doing it now, and I don’t want to be pressured to create something against my will. 

Yoongi: It’s not like you have to finish a song within a day or two? 

Tae: Right! So I’ve been taking some rest for about four months now. Now that I’m resting for four months... 

Yoongi: Wasn’t your mixtape supposed to be out last year? 

Tae: The mixtape that was supposed to happen last year was postponed. I should be in a state full of emotions right now, but I haven’t reached it yet. It’s like...my first mixtape so I want to feel that satisfaction when I release it whenever that time will be. 

Yoongi: That’s why you have to finish the whole thing while you’re at it... 

Tae: Yes. 

Yoongi: ...or else it takes too long to finish it. So, you have to finish it within that period. 

 Tae: Right. 

Yoongi: I’m guessing you might’ve missed the time.

The thing though is that what Tae said, that if he doesn’t feel it, he won’t do it/finish it, that just shows how much of an artist he is, how much his art truly matters to him, and how important it is to him that his art, in this case his music, turns out just the way he wants it to or else he won’t finish it or release it. And while Tae might call this “irresponsible”, I don’t think it’s that in this case, or that it’s a sign of laziness either, though just like Jimin, I don’t want to invalidate his feelings either. All I want to bring across is how in the context of his music, this isn’t a weakness or flaw, even if it might seem like it, especially in their line of work with deadlines, schedules and plans made weeks and months in advance where, usually, you can’t just take a four month break.

So, in that regard, I can understand how it can feel like a flaw to him, make him feel guilty about it and sorry to the members who in this case might rely on him to get something done on time and he might not do it, or not without forcing himself to do it or being dissatisfied, you know what I mean?

Earlier today Tae was on weverse and answered a few questions about his mixtape (though I have a feeling it really is time for ARMY to stop asking him about it and just let him breath) where he said that even though he got a song from someone and made ten himself, even with that break he took according to his BE interview, the songs just aren’t what he wanted them to be and thus he decided to start again.

Some could say it’s again a case of him being irresponsible the way he characterized it during the RUN episode, that even though he said last year he was almost done and would release it soon it ended up being postponed and now he started over again, but once again I think it just shows how very important his music is to him, and therefore I’d actually call it a strength. It shows how valuable his artistic expression is to him, to create music the way he wants to, at his own pace, and only release it once he feels it’s right.

One more thing, just like I said in the intro of this post, Jimin and Tae jumping in to assure the other, reminded me of something Namjoon said during his Map of the Soul : 7 vlive last year:

The context is a little different, but I think it’s still valid here as well, how Tae and Jimin made excuses for each other, how Tae immediately softened how harsh Jimin’s own words about himself might come across, assured both us and Jimin that really he has a kind heart despite this weakness, and then also Jimin by saying that things aren’t as bad as Tae makes them seem either. It’s interesting to really see something play out in a manner similar to what another member said about them based on having been with Jimin and Tae for the last nearly ten years.

Whoever claims that BTS just play out concepts or “plots” and characters given to them by the company really should just take a seat and stop. I mean, sure they all have a sort of persona they embody in front of the camera, at least to a certain degree, they’ve spoken about that numerous times, but they are still humans with flaws and their own dynamics between each other away from the cameras which, logically, also come across on camera as well, not always but enough for us to pick up on it. And in this case, with these confessions during RUN, we saw something that we previously only really heard about happen right in front of us proving (not that they have to prove anything to us, of course, we should simply trust them and what they tell us) that it really is that way.

Here’s the anon I mentioned earlier:

From anon: It might just be me lol but I think rather than Jimin forgetting he's being filmed for a show (with all those members of staff as onlookers as well) and blowing a kiss at Tae / blowing on Tae's chest, he probably just noticed a tiny bit of lint or fluff on Tae's cardigan or mic and decided to blow it off... Of course, if that was the case, that still reveals their high level of intimacy and the fact that even when interacting infront of strangers they seem to be unable to stop showing exactly how tuned into each other they are... I don't think it's a coincidence that Na PD chose to ask Tae, of all the members, to verify Jimin's statement about his flaw. He was probably observing them all day and noticed how particularly close they were, even amongst all the extremely close members.

[soulmate-game]

Prompt: “How did you- No, nevermind, I don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that" with... hmmmm.... Dick? Yeah, with Dick!

Real quick, I think a few of you misunderstood. When I say 3-from-1, I mean I am taking your single quote and pairing, and using it in all three prompts, not just one. Maybe this first one will help explain. Here are parts 1 and 2, since I think I’ve gone long enough without giving you guys content. I’m still working on the last part for this prompt, but it should be done soon!

— Part 1: The Romantic One (so Dickinette)

Tom and Sabine had decided that maybe a break from Paris was in order. Nobody could tell if it was the maniac turning random citizens into superpowered villains every other day, the fact that their daughter had come home with a few bruises that suggested extreme escalation on the side of her school bullies, or how they had caught said daughter asleep against her mannequin— standing up and drooling all over her expensive fabric.

Paris was clearly not a healthy place for Marinette at the moment, and a nice month-long vacation to Jump City was just what they needed. It was similar enough, with its villains and heroes, that they wouldn’t get too whiplashed by the long change in scenery. But it was also a lot safer than Paris was at the moment, and without nearly as many frequent large-scale villain attacks that ended with half the city in ruins as other places (looking at you, Gotham and Metropolis). The lack of villains that took advantage of civilian emotions was a plus.

Marinette, for one, was extremely grateful for the change. Sure, she still had to teleport back to Paris whenever an Akuma showed up, but Jump City was so much easier to relax in. And the ability to see the city’s heroes just walking around in full costume during the day, just relaxing, was an unexpectedly nice thing to experience. Marinette, as it turned out, happened to have a similar taste for places to hang out.

Now, she never spoke to them. She tended to just smile at the sight of them and go back to her own business— she knew how annoying it could be when people always invaded someone’s personal life just because they were well known. So when she saw them every now and then at the best arcade in town, or at one of the few vegan-friendly restaurants she liked? It brightened her day a bit, and she was pleasantly relaxed for quite a while afterwards. It was like, despite never actually approaching them, she was still among friends for once. People who understood everything she had gone through over the past several years since donning the Ladybug miraculous.

So yeah, she was enjoying her time in Jump City. So much so that her parents extended the trip indefinitely, and went through all the necessary paperwork to open a second location for their bakery in the city. They liked it there too.

That led to Marinette standing in line inside of the bank, right after getting all her own paperwork to attend school in Jump City in order. She was already exhausted from all the waiting and general boredom that followed doing anything official in America, and it was already past sunset to boot. The last thing she wanted was to be around when a villain attacked. The bank was already about to close and she didn’t know if they’d call her up in time for her to do what she needed to do.

And what happens? A blue-skinned magician with clear insanity and far too much of a resemblance to an Akuma to give her any sort of comfort comes bursting in and robbing the place. Marinette could only sigh, taking out her phone and informing her parents about the change in plans with all the ease of someone who was far too used to these kinds of things to be healthy. Luckily, the Teen Titans burst in only a few seconds later— must have been on a stake out, she thought.

Marinette put her phone away, deciding just to watch everyone in action. It was almost surreal, seeing such a large team fighting with such fluidity and lack of arguing. They seemed like such a perfect team, it made her envious. Only Chat was a good partner anymore, Marinette dreaded the days she had to find another temporary holder because nobody was a safe choice anymore. But the Teen Titans? They were a beautiful sight to behold.

That is, until Mumbo set his sights on her. The only civilian who wasn’t currently restrained, panicked, or hiding. Marinette blinked.

Oh, she thought. I must have been so tired I forgot to react to anything again.

But Marinette was also too tired to care much about first impressions, so the second Mumbo grabbed her arm and tried to use her as a hostage, she Reacted. The Teen Titans could only watch as Marinette jumped up and over Mumbo’s head, dragging his arm behind him in the process, before slamming her other fist into the small of his back and sending him onto his knees. As he tried to twist away, she kneed his wand out of his hand and twisted his other arm behind his back before he could cast another spell. Right before he could say some magic word and turn the tables on her, he was met with her head hitting the back of his and sending him unconscious immediately.

Problem handled, Marinette let go of him and backed off, dusting her hands off before letting loose a huge yawn.

She turned to leave when Cyborg’s hesitant voice Called out: “Uh, Ma’am? You should wait for the police. They’ll probably want your statement.”

Marinette blinked, and sighed as her shoulders dropped in dismay. “Oh yeah. I forgot I actually fought this time. Sorry,” she sighed again before adjusting her purse on her shoulder and obediently walking further inside the bank, leaning against the wall to wait. That was when Robin approached her, passing a few glances between her and the now-bound-up Mumbo.

"How did you- No, nevermind, I don't want to know, plausible deniability and all that,” he cut himself off mid-question, shaking his head. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s nothing all that special, Monsieur Robin,” Marinette assured, still amused. “And I’ve seen you do far more impressive things, I’m hardly that good of a fighter. My Maman has a background in martial arts, her whole side of the family has a minor obsession with teaching the girls how to fight,” she admitted with a small shrug. “It’s how we bonded, growing up. Every weekend she’d spar with me and we’d spend the whole day just training, and my Papan would bring food in every now and then when he wanted us to take a break. We don’t do it as often now, my Maman says she’s getting a little too old to spar all the time, but I still practice on my own.”

The vigilante blinked, not knowing how to respond for a moment. It was then that Marinette noticed the entire team had been listening, the police having already arrived and taking Mumbo away in cuffs. She blushed a bit, coughing into her hand in embarrassment.

“A-Ah, well. I wouldn’t have interfered at all if I wasn’t so tired, I’m sorry if I got in your way,” she began to babble, the usual nerves that came with having so many eyes on her kicking in. “I tend to space out when I’m exhausted, and so I kinda forgot to react when Mumbo came in? I just spaced out, and I got distracted watching you guys fight so well, and then he tried to grab me and I just… kinda… reacted?” Her voice got faster and higher as she spoke, until she ended her babbling by making it sound like a question. “I promise I won’t make this habit or anything, it’s just been a long day!”

“You…” It was Beast Boy who spoke up, eyes wide. “Did that while you were exhausted?! Woah! I’ve never seen anyone other than Robin fight like that when they were tired!”

Marinette knew her face must have been completely red by then, because it felt like her head was on fire. “I-it’s really not a big deal!” She started waving her hands in Marinette Denial, shaking her head like crazy. “P-probably just a fluke or something! I’ll just give my statement and get out of your hair!” She didn’t wait for a response before fleeing to the police out of sheer humiliation, and giving them the world’s fastest statement. The Titans tried to get her attention as she left, but her face was still one giant, ripe tomato and she just speed walked right past them without a word.

She didn’t even notice that she was followed home, or that she had a team of heroes watching her for a while before they completed their background search and left back for their own home. Or that Robin cast a glance back at her apartment several times as they left, questions crossing his mind too fast to recall all of them.

It wasn’t until a week later that Marinette saw them again, this time when she was at the grocery store. She let her shoulders drop when she saw them talking to each other in the middle of a random aisle, debating over which brand of a product to buy. Once again, a small smile crossed over her lips and she walked on by, fully intent on leaving them be and enjoying the aura of calm that their presence always seemed to give her. It was as she was calmly debating over which kind of fruit would make the best filling for the danishes she wanted to make, that a hand tapped her shoulder. She hummed, tearing her eyes away from the blueberries and raspberries to turn around.

“Yes? Do you need—“ she cut herself off when she saw that the person who had tapped her shoulder was none other than Robin himself, with the rest of his team giving her friendly smiles over his shoulder. She blue screened for a moment before shaking her head, sending him a small, confused smile. “Is there something you need, Monsieur Robin?”

“As a matter of fact,” he ran a hand through his unfairly fluffy hair as he gave her a far too charming, lopsided grin. “I hope you don’t mind that I did some research on you and your family after we met last week—“ Marinette almost laughed when she saw how his teammates face-palmed behind him and quietly groaned about how much tact he lacked. “—and I realized why your movements seemed so familiar. Your mother wouldn’t happen to be from the Cheng family in Hong Kong, would she?”

Marinette immediately lost most of her embarrassment, snorting. “You’re the one who did my background check, you tell me,” she teased. The rest of the Titans seemed floored by the fact that she wasn’t at all annoyed, insulted, or creeped out. “But since you’re asking anyway, yes. The group of primarily female martial artists in Hong Kong, the Chengs, is run by my Aunt. Why?”

Robin’s smile grew. “Well, it just so happens that they have one of the only unique combat styles that my mentor— Batman, of course— was never able to learn.”

Marinette actually did laugh now, connecting the dots as to what he wanted to actually ask. “Ah, because they only accept male pupils if they are blood-relations, non? Let me guess,” she crossed her arms and popped one hip, giving him a smug little grin. “You want me to teach you?”

“We have the best training facilities you have ever seen,” he bribed, eyes practically shining at the prospect of training in a new style of combat.

“I don’t doubt it,” Marinette got a little dreamy eyed herself at the thought. “And Maman can’t spar with me anytime soon… why not? I’m not bound by the Cheng rules after all, nobody can get mad if I teach you. And it requires a lot of gymnastic ability, which you clearly already have. Just one question,” she turned, gesturing to the fruit behind her. “Do you prefer blueberry or raspberry? I’m trying out a new danish recipe and don’t know which to choose.”

She did not miss how, as she was walking out with a few new acquaintances by her side and a few cases of blueberries, Cyborg whispered to Beast Boy:

“I can’t believe Robin actually picked up a girl when he led with the ‘we did an extensive check on your family history’ schtick!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slam! Marinette’s shin collided with Robin’s waist while they were both mid-air, sending the vigilante flying to the ground, tumbling until he could gain traction and stop himself. Marinette, on the other hand, landed on the padded floor of the training room nimbly.

“Not bad!” She praised. “You’re picking it all up really quickly!” Robin scoffed goodbye-naturedly, smirking as he stood up.

“If you didn’t restrict me to only using Cheng-style, I’d have won,” he boasted. Marinette’s eyes shone playfully at the challenge.

“Are you sure? I restricted myself to that style as well,” she teased. “It is the best way for you to learn, after all.”

As per usual, the rest of the Titans were nearby either doing their own training or snacking as they watched. Nobody left Marinette alone when she was at the Tower, which she understood. Apparently they had had someone betray them in the past, so she understood being cautious around her even if she had been teaching Robin twice a week for the past two months. Starfire floated up, flying over to tell them both about how much more exciting this spar had been than the last few, but the Tamaranean was interrupted when Marinette’s phone let out a loud alarm.

Being who they were, all the Titans stiffened and were immediately at alert. Marinette cursed softly, pulling out her phone to see—

“What’s an Akuma Alert?” Robin, ever the nosy idiot, asked. Marinette clenched her jaw. This was not good. It was only nine in the morning in Jump City, making it three in the morning back in Paris. Marinette had hoped he wouldn’t decide to have a late night attack when she was in Titan Tower and essentially trapped.

Marinette looked up from her phone, looking around as everyone’s gazes grew suspicious the longer she stayed silent. Until, finally, she sighed and silenced her phone. She began to speak even as she unzipped her purse to put it away.

“It’s an alert from Paris. I’m sorry, and I understand if you do not wish to see me after this, but I must go.”

“Go where? Paris?” Raven asked, sweeping up to stand next to Beat Boy. If this turned out to be another Terra situation, the boy would need support again. Terra had torn his heart out, and Beast Boy had finally allowed himself to like Marinette and get close to her as a friend. All of them had. “How?”

Marinette clenched her eyes shut, mourning the friendships she was sure she had just lost. Maybe she should stick to the opposite side of the city from then on, so they wouldn’t have to run into her again. With that plan in mind, she drew the magical pair of glasses out of her purse and put them on, making Kaalki materialize.

The Titans stiffened, and Marinette felt her heart shatter a little. But she still called on both of her transformations, and left to save Paris.

She did not go back to the Tower. When the battle was over, she just opened the returning portal straight to the alley outside her apartment and went back home to sob into her pillow. She couldn’t explain what was going on, wasn’t sure they would even want to listen. And she and Robin had been getting so close, too.

But Marinette would not stick around after keeping secrets. She was certain they hated her, anyway.

She went out of her way to avoid them, not even looking their way when they passed by her apartment— on purpose, she was sure. She did everything she could to avoid them. But one day, she couldn’t. She was in the middle of trying to lose them in the alleys on her way to go grocery shopping, when a wall of black cut her off, shadows moving to pile up dumpsters and block her escape. Marinette shrunk in on herself— so they were finally moving up to using their powers, huh?

She heard Starfire drop down to hover behind her next, then the sight of a green hawk landing on a balcony nearby gave away Beast Boy. Robin dropped down from a rooftop, and Cyborg pulled up in the T-Car to block the entrance of the alleyway.

“Marinette,” Robin started, but she shook her head and cut him off.

“Robin, I’m trying to stay out of you guys’s way. I get it, I kept secrets and that’s not cool, I’m not gonna interfere in your fights, you don’t have to worry about—“

“Friend Marinette, we are not angry,” Starfire spoke up, flying over to land next to her. She put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. Her eyes widened, and the smaller girl gulped.

“You… aren't?”

“We hacked into Paris news and street cams after you left,” Cyborg admitted, crossing his arms before giving her a wide smile. “Why didn’t you just tell us you were one of Paris’s heroes? Did ya think we wouldn’t understand or something?” Marinette froze, and then her face grew red when realization set in.

“... Oh Kwami. I’m freaking out about heroes finding out my identity… as a hero…” she groaned as soon as she said it, her head falling into her hands as her friends laughed around her.

“Guess I don’t need that plausible deniability for the reasons I thought,” Robin joked, making Marinette glare at him.

“Don’t tease me, I’m too busy being mortified.”

“Too busy for me to offer you a room at the tower?” He asked, and Marinette looked up to berate him for continuing to tease her, only to stop and realize that his expression said he was completely serious. Her eyes widened in shock once again, and she opened and closed her mouth only for her voice to not work. Robin smiled, holding out one of his hands to her.

“Just for whenever you need a break. Judging by your reaction, your parents don’t know about Ladybug, right?” Marinettte winced at his words. She gave them a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.

“No, back when we lived in Paris it was way too risky for anyone to know, even them. And now that we’re in Jump City, it’s been so long that…” she shook her head. “I don’t think they’d take it well.”

“Because they don’t understand,” Raven guessed, earning a nod and a small smile from the Parisian girl.

“And that’s why we’re offering you a room,” Robin continued, crossing his arms and giving her a confident, relaxed smile. “A temporary one, for whenever you need to drop by and be around people who understand you a bit better. Now, everything outside of the bedroom itself will still heavily monitor you for a while, but—“

“That’s fine!” Marinette agreed easily, beaming happily. “I get it, trust isn’t something that is easy to earn especially when it’s already been broken before. But the offer itself is already extremely generous, thank you!” Marinette lunged forward, tackling Robin in a tight hug. He laughed, returning the embrace.

“Dogpile!” Beast Boy yelled, of course transforming into a giant Saint Bernard as he leapt to start a group hug. His huge, furry body slammed Marinette and Robin to the ground, making them groan in pain and annoyance before Starfire picked all three of them up and started her own crushing hug. Followed by Cyborg wrapping his hands around the pile of superhero on the opposite side, and Raven… just kinda floating over to slump on top of the ball of teenaged heroes in the laziest hug ever.

Marinette didn’t stop laughing until her sides hurt.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette had become a constant presence at the Tower, and Ladybug had even become an occasional member of the Team. She was officially labeled as a reserve member of the Titans, since her duties in Paris came first. But she was fine with that. She didn’t want to draw Hawkmoth’s attention to Jump City after all, but the few and far-between appearances she made weren’t too odd. It had already been a year and a half of her new life in America, on one of the weekends where Marinette found herself sprawled against the couch scrolling through Instagram on her phone, that everything changed. She heard the elevator door open, and took only a second to narrow down who it could be.

First; Kori was visiting Tamaran and wouldn’t be back for at least another week. Victor was working on the T-car and probably wouldn’t come back up for a while. Rachel was meditating, as always, and Marinette could still feel the magic aura from the floor above that told her that she had not moved a muscle. Gar was taking a literal cat nap on the kitchen counter. Only Robin was unaccounted for, since he had gone to Gotham to visit Batman for some “top secret Bat business” and could come back at any moment.

Deduction done, Marinette felt herself smile unintentionally. Her and Robin had become immeasurably close, and she had been pining after him for almost— well, since she first started training him all that time ago. So she sat up, ready to go attack her best friend and major crush in a hug.

“Welcome ba— WHAT THE FUCK?!” Marinette tripped over thin air like she hardly did nowadays, floored by the sight in front of her. Robin was a stickler for his identity, though the rest of the Titans weren’t really. She had never seen him out of uniform, including mask, in the entire time she’d known him. Never heard his real name.

But here stood a boy her age, with extremely familiar fluffy hair and strong jaw. Who seemed extremely conflicted and distraught, in a black hoodie and sweatpants. It was the glimpse of red and yellow under the fully zipped-up hoodie and the slip of black fabric he held in one tightly curled fist that solidified exactly who this blue-eyed beauty was. Marinette swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

Her yell had startled Garfield awake, who burst into his normal form and was staring at the scene equally wide- eyed. He made a few rapid gestures with his hands before choking out;

“I— I’m gonna… go see if Cy needs help,” before he scrambled away and into the elevator, flabbergasted. Robin didn’t say a word the whole time, just silently moving out of the way for the other boy.

Once Beast Boy was gone, the silence returned with stifling intensity. Marinette finally managed to clear her throat and get her thoughts in order.

“Are you okay?” She asked, because his well-being was more important than the fact that she was seeing his whole face for the first time. Because the fact that this was happening at all meant that something was probably very wrong. Just to make sure, she reached out with her Guardian abilities to read his aura— and yes, it was Robin. It couldn’t be anyone else.

But he didn’t look at all like their normally composed, erratic, confident leader. He looked like a young adult who had just had his world upturned and didn’t know how to manage it. He finally raised his eyes from the ground to meet her’s.

“... Batman got a new Robin… a while ago, apparently.”

Marinette sucked air through her teeth, grimacing. Yeah, that… that was a lot. “Come here,” she sat down and patted the couch next to her. “You clearly need to talk. We can even spar later if you want.”

He walked over, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “For once, I don’t think sparring will help. I mean yeah, I left Batman a long time ago because he wouldn’t take me seriously, but…”

Marinette understood. That was different than Batman giving his title to someone entirely new without even telling him. So she sat, and she listened as Robin explained all about his new adoptive brother, about the fight he had had with Bruce. Because apparently Batman was Bruce Wayne, but Marinette would shelve that headache for another day. At the end of it all, she hummed.

“Sounds like you need a new name then.”

“Mari,” Robin glared at her half heartedly. “That’s all you have to say? Really?”

“No,” she shrugged. “But I can’t keep calling you Robin, can I? But okay, you want me to be serious? It sounds like he was trying to do a good thing, getting Jason off the streets. Was he right to just give your moniker away with no warning? Of course not. But I don’t think he did it maliciously. If anything, I think this proves that Robin is a title for Batman’s sidekick to hold. And you’ve gotten way past that point in your life.”

“Well, for starters,” he said after a while. “My real name’s Dick.”

Marinette deadpanned at him, raising an eyebrow. “... I’m sorry, what?”

That got a snort out of him, and he smiled for the first time since he got back, running a hand through his hair again as he grinned at her. “Well, technically it’s Richard. Richard Grayson. But I prefer going by Dick.”

“Oh for the love of— good luck surviving Victor and Gar after you tell them that,” she warned, rubbing her temples at the mere thought of the chaos that was going to ensue. Rob— Dick— just laughed. But this time when he fell silent, Marinette didn’t immediately notice through her preemptive headache. But when she did, she looked up at him only to see him staring at her silently, an odd spark in his eyes. “What?”

“Well, if we’re admitting things and getting rid of secrets…” he started, leaning back a bit as his cheeks suddenly took on a pink tint. He cleared his throat, but met her eyes bravely. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while, Marinette. If, uh, if you want. To go out with me, I mean.”

Marinette sat there, out of order, for a moment as her brain refused to work. Dick panicked.

“I mean, I get it if you don’t. Dating in the team and all, probably not the smartest move ever. So I get it—“

“Shut up,” Marinette interrupted, her face entirely pink. “I just couldn’t talk for a sec. yes, Dick. A million times, yes I’ll go out with you. Holy crap how dare you catch me off guard like that you jerk,” she glared at him before the two of them broke, bursting into laughter and leaning on one another.

They had gone through a lot. If the others found them slumped against one another on the couch, asleep and still holding hands, well they deserved the rest after the day they’d had. Now whether or not they deserved the many photos that had been taken to be held as blackmail against them? That was up for debate.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 2: The same prompt, but siblings this time

[messifangirl]

I... I kinda want to know more about the Cressi waiter and Royalty AUs? They sound like incredible stories. Is vampire/werewolf the one you have a chapter posted? Could you show something more, pretty please?

(Adding a cut!)

The Waiter AU I actually wrote way back in the day. It’s Like A Fairy Tale (5.5k) But I always wanted to write a follow up to it and I have a lot of notes and pieces the sequel. Here’s some:

Cristiano rolls his eyes. "Nothing's wrong," he says. "I just feel like..." He lowers his voice. "Like, I'm chasing him." It sounds silly to say it out loud, and Cristiano's fears are proved right by Marcelo's response.

Marcelo laughs. "Good! It's about time somebody made you work for it." He slaps Cristiano on the arm, laughing again and turning back to his bag. "I like him even more now. Make sure he stops by after the game so I can say hi." He fist bumps Sergio and heads towards the exit.

Sergio watches him leave before focusing on Cristiano. "So it's a little unusual for you. And you're chasing him. But... He's worth it, right Cris?" He widens his eyes imploringly and bites his lip. "I mean, you love him." He flicks his eyes around the room to see if anyone overheard him before turning his attention back to Cristiano. "Right? You've always loved him. He was your first kiss!"

Cristiano's smile dims a little. "Sergio," he says, exhaling and tilting his head back. "It's not that easy, okay?"

And this really isn't a conversation he wants to be having here.

Or at all.

A few seats down, Fabio catches his eye and looks at him questioningly--ready to save him from Sergio if necessary. Cristiano gives a quick shake, indicating everything is fine.

"What do you mean?" Sergio asks, crestfallen. He sits down on the bench in front of Cristiano as if his knees can't hold him up anymore. A hand darts to his waist to fidget with his towel. "You don't love him anymore?" His voice wobbles.

"Sergio," Cristiano starts, rubbing a hand across his face. He takes a deep breath. "I *did* love him. Once. As a child... But it's been fifteen years. And sure, I like him. But I like the idea of him—I liked who he was, and of course I like the look of him now. That's not the point, of course... But things have changed for the both of us... He doesn't know me, and I don't know him. Not really.”

Sergio's still looking up at him with sad eyes. "But..."

Cristiano huffs. "All I'm saying is, we're taking things slow, okay? And it's a little hard, what with our schedule, and the fact that he works two jobs." He shuts his eyes and pictures Leo's face, imagines stroking his cheek and seeing that gorgeous smile. "But yes," he says quietly, opening his eyes again. "I think he's worth it."

The Royalty AU is actually a fairly new idea. Royalty AU has always been one of my fav AUs to read in other fandoms but because I’ve reread kkslover9′s A Tale of Two Princes a thousand times and it is sooooo good, I never really thought to try my own. Until now. It’s still very much in the works and being outlined, and I just completely decided to rewrite the beginning so I don’t want to give you anything that won’t make it into the final, but here’s a little haha.

"It's your duty," Sergio says quietly. "We're all required to do our part. Mine, since I was a child, has been to follow your every step and keep you safe from all harm." He claps a hand on Cristiano's shoulder. "And yours is to lead your people when the time comes. You've already proved your worth in battle, and your men will follow you anywhere. But you've been raised since birth with the expectation to one day take the throne when His Majesty passes. And despite your feelings about what's happening today, I know that you're aware of your responsibilities."

Cristiano's jaw tightens but he forces himself to relax. "Of course you're right," he says, shifting to lean against the wall as well. "I'm just..." He trails off and swallows his frustration down until he can find the words. "I would have preferred Prince Koke over some savage from Barcelona," he adds with a huff. "At least I've met Koke and he's not terrible to look at."

"Koke?" Sergio scoffs. "We both know that you could never be interested in a man who never picked up the sword." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Now, on the other hand, they say Prince Lionel--like you--has commanded Barcelona's armies for years. He's the second son and barely ever attended court. And when he did return home, it was never without a trophy from battle. Apparently, his skill with the sword is unmatched. They call him La Pulga." He quirks his lips. "Think he'd be up for a bout? I'd love to see if what they say is true. And if so, test myself against the best."

Cristiano ignores him. "La Pulga? He's going to be hideous," he murmurs. "I just know it. Probably some uncivilized creature who's disgustingly bloodthirsty and unfit to be seen in our company." He stares down toward the courtyard again, and shudders. "I don't even want to think about it."

The Vampire/Werewolf one is the one I posted a chapter of, yes. It was inspired by some art @detodores did for Cressi week a while back. Here’s some not yet posted :)

The vampire--Leo--looks away, seeming embarrassed. "Yes, but... I'm sorry, it's just feeding is usually just such a private process." He opens his mouth and then closes it like he's rethinking his words. "I fed from two of the wolves from the other pack. They were the ones that volunteered, and I will not betray their names," he says warningly.

"So it did not have to be from all of them?" Cristiano asks, his worries about how much the vampire needed to drink coming to the surface. On the other hand, he's grateful that the rest of his pack can be kept safe and be spared the entire process.

"I realize you are just curious," Leo says with a blink, "however you should be aware that you have just implied I am very promiscuous." He doesn't quite look at Cristiano. "As I said, it is a private process. It can be very... sensual."

Cristiano's cheeks flush as he realizes his misstep. "You're saying it's like fucking," he says, envisioning throttling Sergio for sending him in to do this. Wolves are not shy of their bodies, with the constant shifting leading to the necessity of nudity, but anything leading to actual sexual acts is much rarer and much more sacred.

Leo has no reaction to the crude word. "It can be. Or, it can be simply... meaningful." He sighs. "Blood given is very different from blood taken, despite what you have read or what they show in movies and shows these days. It's about a connection with someone, as well as being about nourishment."

"So it doesn't hurt?" Cristiano asks then, not really wanting to explore this any more than he has to. He's grateful to turn away from the mention of sex and into something else. Of course, he's also somewhat incredulous that such a thing is painless.

"I can make it hurt," Leo says, eyes still not looking at Cristiano. "But I do not. There's no point." He tilts his head as if in thought. "I can not speak for others of my kind. If you are bitten by another vampire, it may not be as I have described."

"So you're not a monster," Cristiano says skeptically, thinking back to the tales of Dracula and trying to replace them with something like a sparkling Edward Cullen.

"Oh, no," Leo says, interrupting his thoughts. "Make no mistake. I am most definitely a monster." He smiles again, and this time, shows two large fangs jutting down from the top of his mouth. They're as white as the rest of him, looking sharp and pointy and dangerous. "Even in this," he pauses and sounds frustrated, "weakened state. I would not call myself anything other than a monster."

"You've killed people then," Cristiano ventures, easing the pressure on his heels even as the conversation does nothing to ease his anxiety.

"Haven't you?" Leo asks, sounding tired again. "The world is not always kind to monsters, is it? And I've lived a very long time. I've had to eat. Had to survive." He closes his eyes again, black lashes stark against his pale skin. "Humans have always been so fragile... It's why I thought working with the wolves would be so beneficial. A way to take humans out of the equation entirely."

"And now your wolves have abandoned you," Cristiano says flatly. "Left you here, in our territory, to die. Because they certainly know we have you. They've had a month to figure that out. And still, they did nothing." He doesn't know why he's trying to drive this point home. Maybe because he hates those wolves and wants Leo to hate them too.

Leo does not reply. 

[harrysweasleys]

a place for us // d.m

Summary: I’d like to request a Draco x reader please, she’s the plus one to the golden trio & Malfoy actually has a crush on her since 1st year but never tells her even though she comes from a pureblood family too. In the 6th year she’s the first one who noticed how drastically Malfoy has changed and decided to investigate & that’s how she founds him in the room of requirements and they just bonded, Draco really opens up to her and they meet in secret every night plus a kiss in the end maybe? Thank you

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: dudes i’m so close to 600 followers i love you all. thank you so much for sticking by my work. also so very sorry it’s taking me ages to get around to these requests. writer’s block, ya know? but, enjoy!!!! xoxo 

— —

As you watched Draco pick absentmindedly at his quill during Potions, you knew something was wrong. He had been acting off all year. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of Potions now that Slughorn was the Professor, but this didn’t excuse why he had been sulking the entire first month that school had returned. 

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice caught you out of your trance, causing you to snap your head in his direction with a startled expression. You suddenly became dizzy, needing to blink rapidly to regain control of your head.

“Yeah?” you asked, pretending like you hadn’t just dozed off while staring at Draco for nearly five whole minutes.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “We’re partners for — you weren’t paying attention, were you?” The clear disappointment on his face made you feel awful, but you couldn’t help it. You were intrigued by Draco’s lack of boasting. For five years now, you had spent classes with him where he had spent the entire time bragging about his status and wealth, and now he was just silently sitting at the back of the class, head in his hands and his mind clearly distracted

“I was too,” you snapped back, furrowing your eyebrows and turning to face Ron and Hermione, who were also paired together and beginning to jot down instructions.

“Then,” Harry leaned his elbows on the table and stared you down, “what potion are we making?”

You squinted, trying to think of what you had picked up from the short time you payed attention to Slughorn, “Draught of Living Death?”

Harry groaned, “Lucky guess.”

You grinned, proud of your shot in the dark, and stood up to collect the ingredients, bringing your copy of Advanced Potion Making with you to search the stocked shelves.

As you turned around to go back to your desk, arms filled with ingredients, you nearly crashed into a body.

“Oh, I am so sorry—” you grimaced, wanting to smack yourself over the forehead for being so clumsy. Luckily, you hadn’t dropped any ingredients, but you felt like a fool nonetheless.

Draco smiled softly down at you, “My fault. Didn’t notice your arms were full.” He proceeded to maneuver around you and collect his own ingredients, gently pressing up against your arm as he did so.

You shuddered, choosing not to look back and glance at him before speed walking back to your station, where Harry was preparing the cauldron.

“You alright?” he asked, peering up at you quickly before picking at the ingredients.

You nodded, forcing yourself to continue staring down at the table to avoid looking at the Slytherin boy. Something about him was just incredibly off and despite not really being friends with him, you wanted nothing more than to figure out what was going on in that pale head of his.

When class came to an end, Slughorn deeming yours and Harry’s potion the best one in the class (Hermione scowled at Ron), you waited behind to walk with your friends, who were approaching you slowly after cleaning up their desk.

“Naturally, Ronald,” Hermione scoffed, discreetly rolling her eyes, causing you to chuckle.

“What? I’m just saying!” he argued back, holding his hands up in fake surrender, “If you drank Draught of Living Death as a dead person, you’d return to life! It’s called Living Death. So, of course, Zombie.”

“That’s what was going on in your mind during class?” you couldn’t help the bubbling laughter as the four of you exited the class, turning down the hallway with the crowd, “Charming, really. No wonder Harry and I beat you guys.”

However, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a specific blond head rushing in the opposite direction. It was rather odd, considering your next class — Defence Against the Dark Arts — was also with the Slytherins.

“It’s what’s always going on in my mind, Y/N,” Ron deadpanned, looking over to where you were now staring, “What’re you looking at?

Hermione and Harry had now stopped walking, moving out of the way of the onslaught of students, being careful not to get trampled.

You turned back to face your friends, “I — need to pee, yeah, I need to pee.”

Despite your super unconvincing voice, they nodded at you and Hermione spoke up, “We’ll meet you in Defence class, then.”

“Right, yeah,” you mumbled, waving a quick bye and taking off in the current of students, unfortunately going against the tide as most of them were heading the opposite way.

You cursed yourself for being curious. Dodging students left and right, gripping onto your backpack to avoid having it get knocked off your shoulders, you eventually made your way into the clearing, adjusting your disheveled robes before continuing on.

Looking left and right, you couldn’t find Malfoy anywhere, but you were almost certain he had taken the left corridor. So you did the same. Luckily, you avoided coming in contact with anyone, rushing down and turning the corner.

As you turned, you saw Malfoy’s figure at the end, rounding another corner up ahead. You followed him, keeping your eyes peeled for anything that could give away what he was off to do.

He was by no means a star student, but skipping class wasn’t exactly ‘normal’ for him. In the five years you had known him, you had only noticed him skip class twice and both times were due to Quidditch injuries.

Yes, you had noticed both times he wasn’t there. Not because you wanted him around, but because he usually made his presence very well know, especially around your friends — who he seemed to strongly despise, despite the fact he had never been rude to you.

You continue following him up the stairs and down more empty hallways. You had never seen the school this empty, but that was because you had never decided to take a stroll while you were supposed to be in class.

Finally, after walking for what felt like ten minutes, Draco stopped abruptly and stared at a wall. You ducked, hiding behind a statue, and peered out through the tiny window you had.

He was staring at this blank stone wall, but you knew exactly what it was. You had been there countless times the year before where Harry had held practices for Dumbledore’s Army.

Why Malfoy needed the Room of Requirements was beyond you. He had always managed to get his way with Professor Snape, surely he couldn’t be doing anything proper or good behind those doors.

You watched as he stalked in, careful to double check if anyone was near him before the doors slowly started to vanish.

It was now or never, you thought.

So you bolted.

The doors were barely able to fit you as you squeezed through, the door turning into a wall behind you and disappearing completely. You stayed quiet as you turned around, ready to face a pissed off Malfoy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Room of Requirements was completely different from how you had seen it last year. Instead of a wide open space with mirrors and books on Defensive spells, it looked like a storage room.

Chairs, books, desks, anything and everything you could think of, were piled up to the ceiling in rows. The dust was unbelievable — your throat was already beginning to tickle after your first breath.

Not only could you not see Draco, but you could barely see anything with the amount of junk that was in this room. He had probably taken off down one of the rows, but which one, you had no clue.

You decided to head down the furthest right, passing old desks and books along the way. The smell of dust and decay got stronger along the way. You had to keep your eyes on your feet to avoid tripping on scattered objects.

Once you passed an old bookcase, you heard quiet muttering. Draco’s head came into view, along with what appeared to be a triangular cabinet. His head was leaned up against it, muttering silently, his shoulders shaking and his arms lying limp at his side.

“Malfoy?” you whispered, suddenly becoming very much aware that he probably didn’t want you following him.

He spun around, eyes wide. It was hard to tell since he was naturally so pale, but his complexion seemed even more ghostly than usual.

“What are you doing here?” his expression changed from shocked to anger, his hands clenching into fists by his sides.

You stammered, trying to find a reasoning that wouldn’t make you come off as a stalker, “Are you okay?”

That wasn’t exactly smooth, but his face seemed to soften. He looked you up and down, visually calming when he noticed your wand wasn’t in your hand, nor did you show any signs of accusing him of anything.

“Is Potter hiding around the corner?” he hardened again, standing stiff and placing his right hand inside his coat as if ready to grab his wand and defend himself any second.

“No, no, he’s not,” you raised your hands, “I’m alone. I just... sorry I followed you in here.”

He slowly removed his hand from his jacket, letting it fall limp at his side once again. Despite Draco being one of the most intimidating and feared students in the school, not once had he ever made you feel out of place. You figured it was probably because you were a pureblood, and your family did have a decent status in the magical world. He would torment your friends, calling Harry awful names — even going as far as calling Hermione a mudblood.

You should hate him. Everything about what he had done screamed awful, rude, bully, dangerous, but he had always been kinder to you, softer even. And somehow, deep within your heart, you knew you couldn’t hate him.

It was annoying, really. Every time he and Harry were in the same room, tensions would go through the roof. Draco would spit insults at your friend, but turn to you and greet you or bid you a good day like a normal person.

Ron would often rant about their disastrous encounters with him in the common room after everyone was asleep, and you’d sit quietly and offer no input.

One of the moments you realized Draco was nowhere near as bad as he seemed was during the Triwizard Tournament. When Harry was under water — Hermione and Ron having gone missing as well — the notorious Draco Malfoy had comforted you. Had told you everything would be alright. That your friends would be safe.

Really, there was no way you could hate him after that.

“Why did you follow me?” he asked, eyes darting to the ground to avoid eye contact. You were honestly surprised he wasn’t angrier. He had always had a short fuse around most people.

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to word it, “I was, uh, worried.”

His eyes snapped up to you and he scoffed, “You? Worried about me? Right.”

“I am,” you pressed on, “You’re not okay. I can tell. I just thought I’d try and find out what was wrong so I could... help, I guess.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se. You did want to figure out what was wrong, but you weren’t sure how you could be of any help to him.

“Well, thanks, but I don’t need your help,” his voice had more of an edge now, clearly a sign he was becoming fed up with your presence. Maybe it was a mistake following him.

“How do you know? Maybe it’s something I can relate to. We both have a lot of pressure, being purebloods, you know,” you crossed your arms as you spoke, slightly offended by his tone of voice.

He rolled his eyes, “This has nothing to do with you. You wouldn’t understand. I can handle myself.” Although his face was hard, steady, cold, you could tell that his eyes were pleading. Pleading for someone to care, to set him free.

“I can tell you’re lying,” you approached him slightly, trying your best not to seem as if you were cornering him, “Try me. Maybe I’ll understand.”

If you weren’t close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his eyes were watery, becoming red as he clearly fought back his emotions.

“You think you would understand? You think anyone can possibly understand this?” he raised the sleeve of his left arm, revealing a dark tattoo on his forearm, the symbol immediately recognizable.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you took a step away from him, mind becoming hazy as your eyes were glued to the Dark Mark etched into his pale skin.

“You — you have the mark,” you breathed out slowly. You couldn’t fathom why he’d have it. You knew his parents were Death Eaters — hell, everyone knew that — but why Draco? What could he do while he was still at Hogwarts?

“Yeah, thanks, almost didn’t realize,” he spoke through gritted teeth, rolling his sleeve back down and finally letting his emotions free. A tear slid down his cheek as he faced away from you, frustrated at himself for being so vulnerable around another person.

You were still frozen in your spot. You thought he had maybe been dealing with depression, anxiety, pressure, fear — but never this. You never in a million years thought that he was dealing with the Dark Mark. 

“I’m so sorry,” you found yourself saying the only thing you could think of. It was true, you were sorry for him, but there was nothing that could be done. Once the Mark was on, was there even a way of removing it? It was unheard of, really. Once you pledged your undying fidelity to You Know Who, it was that or death from then on. Thinking of that, you couldn’t blame him for being quiet and distant all term.

You found yourself approaching him even more, feeling thankful he didn’t pull away, and did the only thing you could think of in the moment.

You hugged him.

Your arms wrapped around his waist slowly, noticing immediately how he tensed under your touch. When your arms were fully wrapped around him, you rested your head against his chest, hearing the violent thud of his heartbeat.

“What are you doing?” he asked tensely, his body completely rigid at the strange showing of affection.

“Hugging you,” you replied, voice slightly muffled by his clothing, “You can hug back, y’know.”

He hesitantly raised his arms and draped them around you, not fully hugging you just yet. But as his mind caught up with him, he pulled you even closer to his body, as if all of a sudden, you were the one thing grounding him to reality.

“Do you not like it? I can stop,” you chuckled humourlessly, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your rash movement. If anyone saw you hugging Draco Malfoy, your friends would shun you for life.

He shook his head, “No, no, it’s not that. I’ve just — I don’t get these often.”

Your heart broke for him, “Well, I can give them to you.”

You replaced your arms around him even tighter and he relaxed at your touch, letting his head rest atop of yours. For such a strange encounter moments before, this seemed an oddly intimate way to end up.

“Thank you,” he whispered, arms still wrapped tightly around you. You had to do a double take. You were nearly certain you had never heard him apologize before. Was this what it felt like to be accomplished?

“Don’t thank me,” you muttered, slowly pulling away from him and tugging at the hair that got caught in his buttons, “I just always find hugs make me feel better. Thought I’d give it a shot. And I know I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through, but I am here. If ever you need anyone. Talking, listening, I’m good at it all.”

He forced a smile, cheeks more flushed with colour, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Even though you had just found out he was now a Death Eater, you didn’t fear him. You didn’t feel like you should be running in the opposite direction and warning Harry and Dumbledore. You didn’t feel like he should be kicked out, expelled or killed. In that moment, he was vulnerable, scared, human. You just wanted to help.

“I should probably head to class before Harry thinks I’ve been attacked,” you tried adding humour, but it didn’t seem to work.

Draco’s frown deepened, “I’m not going to attack you.”

“I know,” you reassured him calmly, regretting your joke, “I just don’t want Harry and Ron and Hermione to come searching. We’ll keep this a secret, yeah?”

He gazed up at you, a light smile on his lips, “Don’t exactly want the world knowing, so yeah. Thank you.”

You nodded curtly, unsure as to how to continue the conversation, “Well, I’ll see you around. Take care of yourself. Please.” You shot him a genuine smile and he returned the gesture, eyes locked on you as you disappeared from sight and out the door.

As you left the room, you let out a deep breath, leaning against the wall and processing what had just happened. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. A Death Eater. He wasn’t even old enough to do magic outside of school. Did that mean he had to do his Dark Arts in the school?

You shook your head, not wanting to dwell too much. The more you overthrought the situation, the more you’d be tempted to warn Harry. But you highly doubted Draco’s purpose was to harm Harry when You Know Who wanted to do that himself.

Beginning your speed-walk to class, you really did try to clear your mind. You thought about Quidditch, about your upcoming Transfigurations essay, and even about what topic you guys could be discussing in class, but it seemed nearly impossible considering what had just happened.

You had been so distracted by your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed you were right in front of the class. You opened the door with a grimace, knowing Snape was bound to be aggravated as hell that you were late.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he scowled, turning all of the attention of the class on you, “Mind explaining why you’re nearly half an hour late to my class?”

Half an hour? Had you really been gone that long.

“Sorry, Professor, wasn’t feeling well,” you lied, raising your hand and placing it on your stomach, “Was thinking of going to the hospital wing but didn’t want to miss the class.”

Snape scoffed, hardly believing your lie, “Thirty points from Gryffindor. Now sit down.”

You nodded, sliding into your usual seat next to Ron, who glanced over at you with a quizzing expression, “Where’d you really run off to?”

Luckily Snape was too busy scolding Neville Longbottom because Ron was not exactly a pro whisperer.

“Just... I wasn’t doing anything. Thought I was onto something but I wasn’t. Just forget about it,” you brushed him off, turning to face the black board and taking down notes, ignoring the confused stare Ron kept sending your way.

You had promised Draco you wouldn’t tell anyone. And besides, he showed no signs of doing anything dangerous just yet. Maybe this made you an accomplice, but you wanted to gauge the severity of the situation before you ran off tattletaling to Dumbledore.

Draco may have new found power, but was he actually going to put it to the test?

You wanted to find out why Draco.

——

For days now, you had actually been meeting up with the Slytherin in secret. Whether it be the Room or Requirements or even the Astronomy Tower during warm evenings, you became someone he felt comfortable around.

And surprisingly, you had become comfortable around him too. If your friends found out, they’d kill you dead, but you were becoming better and better at coming up with lies and excuses as to why you always got back late and where you kept going off too.

You’re pretty sure Harry is suspicious of you, but he’s never shown signs of not trusting you, so that was a good thing. Hermione and Ron were too focused on ignoring each other to pay attention to what you were up to — honestly, a part of you was thankful for it.

The Astronomy Tower was dark as nightfall fell upon it once again, the twinkling stars and bright moon being the only source of light. It was peaceful, really. The only place you could really go to get away from the chaotic environment of the school during the day.

And, yes, it did make it slightly more enjoyable that Draco would accompany you here.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked, the usual question you’d greet him with.

He shrugged, “Same as usual.”

You nodded, looking out over the dark lake, “Remember, I’m always here if you wanna vent.”

He smiled slightly, stepping closer to you and leaning against the railing, “I haven’t forgotten.”

The air surrounding you was tense, yet strangely peaceful. As if you and Draco had slipped into a common ground. Unsure how to address the issues at hand, but very much aware that you were going to be there for him.

“What did you tell your friends you were doing today?” he smirked, knowing how you had started to lie for him.

Rolling your eyes, you turned away from him, “Told them I was going to the Owlery to write to my mum. Don’t know how they believed it.”

“Because they’re idiots,” he scoffed, causing you to turn around and face him with a stern glare.

“Hey, you can’t keep talking about them like that. They’re my best friends,” you defended, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. You cocked an eyebrow as he opened his mouth again, warning him not to call them any other names.

He raised his hands, “Fine. Apologies.”

You uncrossed your arms and rested them on the railing, looking back out over the starlit sky and shadows of mountains. The view from up here was gorgeous. You had the view of the entire castle, as well as the view of the scenery surrounding it.

No matter how many times you looked over Hogwarts, the view never got old.

“It’s stunning, isn’t it?” you asked, looking down to the courtyard, illuminated dimly under the moon.

“Yeah, it is,” Draco said softly. You looked over and noticed his eyes were still on you. Both of your cheeks went pink, turning away immediately and choosing to look at other things.

“I’m scared,” he said softly, pulling you attention back to him, “I think — I know — that the Dark Lord wants me to do something. Something bad; something dangerous. And I — I don’t want to do it.”

You felt your heart sink at the broken expression on his face. You knew that he hated himself for what he had become, he had told you numerous times. But it didn’t change the fact that you really did feel bad for him.

“What is it he wants you to do?” you asked, moving closer to him without even realizing it.

He shook his head, eyes wide, “I — I can’t tell you. It’ll put you in danger.”

Based on the paleness of his face, you knew you shouldn’t push it. After all, being the only one at school who knew he was a Death Eater was already putting you at enough risk. It didn’t help, either, that you were slowly, but surely, falling for the boy in front of you.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you smiled, placing your hand softly over his. You hadn’t realized he was shaking so much, but he relaxed under your touch and let out a deep breath.

“I just—” he sighed, closing his eyes, “—I just don’t want to do it.”

“I don’t blame you,” you moved even closer, placing your other hand on his cold cheek, “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. I wish there was a way I could help.”

He opened his eyes, smiling softly down at you and placing his hand over yours, which was rubbing his cheek lightly, “I wish you could help too. But the last thing I want to do it place you in harm’s way.”

You felt heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks due to the way he was gazing down at you. He seemed to be staring into your soul and it was the most intimate moment you had ever felt.

“I appreciate that,” you whispered, realizing in that moment how close you were, “But I don’t want you in harm’s way either.”

He chuckled dryly, “Kind of late for that. I was practically born in harm’s way.”

Quite suddenly, he pulled away from you, and you only then noticed how warm he was when his distance caused cold air to surround your body. You found yourself missing the closeness, but figured his distance was probably for the best. You could barely fathom telling your friends you were talking to Malfoy — you couldn’t imagine what they’d say if anything were to actually happen.

“I know, I wish you had a choice,” you spoke up, louder this time as he kept his back turned to you, “It’s not fair.”

He shook his head, letting it drop, “It’s not. But —,” his voice trailed off before he turned and faced you, his face set and all softness gone, “I should probably go to bed.”

Your eyes involuntarily widened and you couldn’t help the clear shock on your face, “Wait, did I say something?”

“No,” he replied rather quickly, “I just need to go.” And without saying another word, abruptly rushed down the stairs, his blond head disappearing from view before you could even say another word.

You stayed there, silently in the dark, for another long while. You couldn’t understand why he had taken off so hastily. Was he scared of you? For you? For himself? Did he have a realization? What was it that had rushed him away?

You walked back to the Gryffindor common room with a sulky mood, mind whirling as to what it was that could have caused a drastic, sudden change in his mood. Draco had always been a tough book to read, often leading to him being irrational, but something told you this was more than just his normal actions. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being paranoid — he was dealing with You Know Who — but you couldn’t help wanting to know more.

The common room was quiet as you re entered. Thankfully, you wouldn’t have to deal with your friends’ questions tonight. They could wait for the morning when your head was a little clearer and you could think of better answers.

You stalked up the stairs and into the room, glad that Hermione was snoring away so it was loud enough to cover the sounds of you sliding under your sheets and putting out the lantern next to your bed.

Safe to say, it was hard to sleep that night, your head far away and your body tossing and turning non stop.

You had never been more physically and mentally exhausted as you were the next morning.

——

Somehow, you had managed to go four days without seeing Malfoy. He hadn’t shown up to class, nor to any of the meals in the Great Hall. You were worried, there was no beating around the bush about that. But you still couldn’t express your worries to your friends or they’d think you were insane.

On the fifth day, the dark heavy rain poured down and the dark clouds in the ceiling of the Great Hall during breakfast did nothing to lighten your mood.

You had barely slept these last few night, Draco being the only thing you could think of. Both worried for his safety, and worried for the safety of others, you kept an eye out everywhere you walked to see if you could spot his familiar face.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

To your great distaste, seeing Harry and Ginny finally realize their feelings for each other in the span of these last five days had made your longing for Draco even worse. Yes, your stupid heart had decided to grow feelings for him. And yes, it ticked you off knowing you’d never be able to act on said feelings.

So, seeing Ginny linking her hand with Harry’s as she joined your table for breakfast made your blood boil.

“Morning,” she grinned, pressing a light kiss to Harry’s cheek, Ron grimacing at the affection.

“Bloody hell, can you not do that around me?” he groaned, looking down at his plate with disgust as if seeing the gesture caused him to loose his appetite.

“It’s sweet,” Hermione beamed, closing her book and placing it between you two on the bench, “I think it’s nice.”

Harry and Ginny grinned at her compliment, but it went unnoticed by you as your eyes scanned the Slytherin table once more. Draco’s head usually stuck out like a sore thumb, so you’d see him if he was there.

“Ron, you’re ready for Quidditch practice, yeah?” Harry nodded towards Ron, finishing off his pumpkin juice and standing up, “Let’s get going.”

“It’s raining, mate,” Ron groaned, about to stuff the last bit of toast in his mouth.

Harry shrugged, “Thanks for pointing out the weather, let’s go.”

Hermione giggled as Ron begrudgingly stood up and followed Harry out of the Great Hall. As you watched them leave, your eyes following them to the door, your heart leapt out of your chest.

Draco was standing in the doorway, looking like right hell. His face was ghostly, his eyes sunken in and dark and his hair matted to his head.

You stood up, nearly knocking Hermione over with the force of your movement. But as you looked over at him, Hermione seemed to vanish from your view.

“Gotta go,” you said to the two girls, striding towards the entrance. Draco must have seen you, because he took off in the opposite direction, his pace picking up once he noticed you following him.

“Oi, Draco, slow your roll,” you shouted, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. You hadn’t expected him to actually stop, causing you to crash into his back and nearly stumble over.

“Sorry about that,” you mumbled, regaining your balance and hiding the flush on your cheeks. He didn’t move, so you turned around to face him, holding back a gasp when you noticed the state he was in.

“Draco, what happened?” your voice was soft, reassuring. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel like you were judging him.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, looking down to his feet, “I’m fine.”

Scoffing, you raised a hand to his cheek and placed it against his skin lightly, “You can open up to me, remember?”

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing, “I’m sorry. I just — I needed to stay away.” He shuddered as he spoke. You could tell he was trying to be as open and honest as he could without giving too much away.

“From me?” you asked, stepping closer to him and pulling him behind a pillar so you couldn’t be seen by passing students.

He nodded, “I don’t want to put you in danger if I can help it. I’m — I like your company.”

“I like your company too,” you smiled softly, “Which is why it sucked when I couldn’t find you.”

“No, like — never mind,” he waved his hands, brushing you off, “It’s pathetic.”

“Wait, no, you need to be open with me,” you pointed a finger at him, a grin forming on your lips at the redness growing on his cheeks, “What is it?”

He fidgeted in his spot, avoiding your gaze before speaking so softly you almost missed it, “I actually like you. Like, like you. Since first year, actually. And I opened up to you. And then I realized I was putting you, the one person I care about, in danger.”

You stared at him, mouth agape and face drained of colour. Had he just said he likes you? Draco Malfoy likes you? You had always had a soft spot for him — even though you shouldn’t have had one — but you never imagined he felt the same to this extent. It slowly started to make sense; why he was always kinder to you, why he felt the need to open up to you, why he wanted to distance himself after doing so.

The redness on his cheeks grew, and you could feel the heat flooding into your own. For some reason, just the knowledge of his crush had your heart fluttering away because you couldn’t deny — you had one too.

“Well, that’s good to know,” you stepped closer, “I like you too.”

His head shot up, eyes nearly bulging out of his head, “You — you do?”

“Yes,” you said, more seriously this time, “And now that my little secret is out there, you need to start taking care of yourself. I know this is scary and you don’t know what’s going on, but take care of yourself. Please. For me.”

He seemed to ponder on your words, moving closer to you, “Promise. I will.”

Almost as if your presence had done something to him, the colour seemed to have flooded back into his face and his eyes seemed to spark life once more. You grinned, pleased at your affect on him, and wrapped your arms around him.

He leaned into the hug this time, less awkward and unsure. His head nestled into your neck and his hands gripped your waist firmly, the affectionate gesture being a source of comfort to both of you.

You pulled away after a long moment, grinning like an idiot and trying your best to hide it, “I’m really proud of you for opening up, y’know? It can’t be easy and I—,”

Your rambling was cut off by his lips forcefully pressing up against yours. You were too caught off guard to kiss back, standing there stiff as a board with your mind racing to catch up to his actions. He noticed your stiffness, causing him to immediately pull away and stare at you with panic in his eyes.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” he ran his hand down his face, pale as ever and the panic in his eyes growing more by the second, “Forgive me, it was heat of the moment.”

“Stop rambling,” your mind finally caught up with you to the point where you could process what just happened, “Kiss me again.”

He placed his hands softly on either sides of your head and pressed his lips softly against yours. Tingles shot through your entire body at his touch, your heart being sent into overdrive as fireworks erupted in your belly.

His kiss was soft but passionate and needy. You could tell he was desperate to cling to you as much as he could, his body pressed up against yours and holding you flush to him. His body was relaxed — this was probably the least stressed he had ever been around you.

Your hands went into his hair, his delicate kiss still sending your mind into a frenzy, even after he had pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.

“That was — that was —” Draco’s breathing was a little off as he chuckled, eyes staring into yours with a whole new level of adoration.

“Yeah,” you grinned, pulling your forehead away from his to look at him properly. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t fight his smile.

From that moment on, you didn’t leave his side. You met in the Astronomy Tower nearly every single night — it was a place just for the two of you. He confided in you about his feelings, his fears, worries, dreams. Anything that was going on in his mind, he told you about it.

And he loved you.

He felt like the didn’t deserve your kindness, your open heart, but he welcomed it and accepted every moment, feeling the least alone he had ever felt before.

You, on the other hand, managed to keep your time with Draco a secret from your friends for a long time. They had become suspicious, yes, but you managed to throw them off your scent and make up a storyline of what exactly was going on.

And you knew bigger things were to come. Wars, fights, probably even death. But you were going to keep your promise and stick by his side until the very end.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary: Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of the birdsong in her laugher, the songs of the gods in the wind. 

(Loosely inspired by ‘Your Name’, aka Kimi No Nawa, featuring Haikyuu’s own pretty Tokyo boy)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

‘It’s rare to see young men like you buying flowers for their mother’, the florist comments offhand as she wraps his order of yellow chrysanthemums in paper. 

Akaashi smiles, accustomed to the friendly florist by now. ‘I guess I’ve always had a partiality for flowers’, waving to the florist as he leaves to head to Shibuya to meet Bokuto for Izakaya. He’s running late, but Bokuto doesn't mind, hooting good naturedly at the comedy show playing on the television in the rundown bar. 

‘Agaaaashi, you made it!’ Bokuto rises from his seat to give him a jovial fist bump. 

‘Of course I did’, he responds dryly. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me from my appointment with you’. He spends most of dinner listening to Bokuto’s recent exploits both with the national team and MSBY. Excitement still sparkles in the older man’s eyes as he recounts each and every match he’s played in, and Akaashi idly wonders how it is that Bokuto seems to have managed to pack on even more muscle in the short span of a month, the last time they met up was to see Bokuto off at the airport for the World Cup. 

‘You should have continued playing volleyball in university’, Bokuto crows in between mouthfuls of yakiniku and beer and Akaashi shakes his head at the refrain he’s so used to hearing from his senpai.

‘I wouldn’t be able to maintain my grades if I wanted to take volleyball seriously in university, plus there’s no guarantee I’d even get off the bench’, he answers self-effacingly. 

‘But you have the best tosses, Akaaaaaashi!!’ Bokuto declares, his words slightly slurred, and Akaashi wonders if he should start to inch Bokuto’s beer away from him. After consuming far too much barbecued meat (Bokuto took the liberty of ordering twice of what Akaashi would normally order, waving his protests off by stating grandly that he’ll take care of the bill, he’s the one working after all!), Bokuto slips into a food-drunk stupor, happy to listen to his anecdotes of university life, and he takes the chance to ramble on about his advanced Japanese classical literature course that he finds far more fascinating than his class on modern literature to his best friend. 

They stumble out of the izakaya when the line outside grows far too long to be ignored, Bokuto draping a heavy arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, the red tint on the tips of his ears betraying his slightly tipsy state. As they stand at the traffic light patiently waiting for the light to change from red to green, Bokuto turns to him and grasps his shoulders in his large, warm hands. 

‘I’m really proud to have you as a friend, Akaashi’, Bokuto tells him seriously. ‘And I’m going to prove to you that I can be the best ace so you can be proud of me too’. The molten gold glimmering in Bokuto’s gaze fills him with far more warmth than any alcohol could possibly achieve. 

‘I’m already proud of you, Bokuto-san’, he answers, his earnestness resounding in every word of his short declaration. Bokuto beams at him in response and bounds across the pedestrian walkway in approximately three strides, ignoring Akaashi’s chiding to ‘look before you cross the road, even if you have the right of way!’

Many things may have changed since high school, but some things still stay the same.  

His dreams take a strange turn that night.

He’s back in the Fukurodani gym with his teammates, but it’s not accurate to say he’s with them - rather, he’s watching his past self from afar, seated on the bench, a wrist guard on his right arm. He doesn’t remember ever injuring himself enough to warrant a wrist guard at any point during his high school volleyball career, but it’s probably just another oddity of being in a dream.  

‘I wish your wrist was feeling better, Akaashi. I miss your tosses already’, the pout in Bokuto’s voice pronounced.

‘It’s just for a while - I’ll be right as rain tomorrow!’ he hears himself say cheerfully - but that doesn’t make sense either. No one in their right mind has ever described the way he speaks as cheerful, and the rest of his teammates glance over at him curiously. Then his past self awkwardly tucks his legs under the bench, ankles crossed almost as if he’d like nothing better than to fold himself away with all the cloth vests they use for practice – but that doesn’t make sense either, he doesn’t even know why he’s behaving like some fish out of water. While volleyball doesn’t come naturally to him as it does to someone like Bokuto-san, and there are times he feels like he’s struggling to swim upstream, his fingers still itch to toss a ball up into the sky in a perfect arc even now. 

‘I told you, I don’t get what you insist on waxing lyrical on him being a star you can’t help but follow,’ he hears her voice chime in his consciousness, inexplicable though her presence in this scene may be, he hears himself answer - ‘just be patient and watch’. 

Anahori, their substitute setter tosses the ball up in the air and it’s a good toss, he will give him that, but it’s still not quite as high a toss that Bokuto likes. Bokuto runs right up to the net to leap into the air, back arching to slam the ball to the ground with such force that it’s a commanding full stop punctuating any doubts about his place on the team as its captain and ace. 

‘You see! When he plays well, he's like a supernova, shining with a light so bright it almost blinds my eyes.’

‘Waxing lyrical again, Keiji-kun?’ He can hear her tease him gently. ‘Go on, carry on with your celestial metaphors’.

‘How about a shooting star then’, he replies, amused. ‘If a shooting star shot up from the earth instead of falling from the sky.’ 

‘You sound like you like the guy. Are you sure you don’t?’ She asks. ‘You sure sound like you do.’

What?!

His legs are tangled in his sheets when he thrashes awake, mouth open in a gasp for air. That was a new twist in his collection of dreams, the first time he’s dreamt of something other than that phantom girl’s life in months, but even when the dreamscape doesn’t even feature her, she still manages to invade his dream. 

Worse - his dreams are now edging into territory he hasn’t mapped out in years. His teenage infatuation with Bokuto-san died a natural death after he realised that he’d mistaken his admiration for the ace for romantic feelings. Besides, there was no way Bokuto-san would ever be in love with him, not when he’d chosen to devote the next decade of his life to his sport. So why are his dreams dragging him deeper into a labyrinth of memories that aren’t even his own?

‘Why are you squandering my pocket money in a maid café of all things’ he says, sounding uncharacteristically put out. But then again he would be annoyed if anyone managed to drag him into the pink and white monstrosity his dream has deposited him into.

Bokuto’s happily seated across from him (or rather, his past self), exclaiming ‘ooh - isn’t the ketchup art on this omurice amazing, Akaashi? They managed to capture my hair so well!’, and to his horror his past self nods encouragingly and only laughs when Bokuto whines about not wanting to destroy this ‘piece of art the maids took so much time to create’ by eating the damn omurice. 

‘Don’t be such a killjoy, Keiji-kun’, she giggles. ‘Look at him, he’s having such fun, and besides, your day will reset so your money won’t be wasted anyway!’. 

Bokuto, distracted by the catchy beat of the J-pop song blasting over the speakers, is cajoled by a trio of pretty maids to join them on stage to dance along with them. He pops his hips to the beat of the music, throwing up cheesy hand signals with such gusto that it makes him (yes, present day Keiji) want to smile. 

But his past self evidently hasn’t lightened up yet, because he hears himself say crossly – ‘You do realise this is a waste of time when we could be doing something more useful like homework, especially since  Bokuto-san and I already spend most of our time training?’

‘Oh Keiji-kun, life is too short to be spent worrying like that. Because before you know it, you’ll grow into an old man who doesn’t know how to have any fun’.

‘I have fun’, he says petulantly, a faint sulk in his voice. 

‘Oh really? Then stop worrying and live a little. Maybe you should take a leaf out of your beloved Bokuto-san’s book – look how much fun he’s having!’

Bokuto clearly seems to be having the time of his life because now he’s prancing around the stage playing some silly game with the maids. 

‘I told you, I don’t think of him that way.’

‘And I’ve told you I’ve borrowed your skin for far too long to know when you’re not telling me the whole truth, Keiji-kun’, she sing-songs. ‘You wished for more time with him, didn’t you, so aren’t I doing a good deed by helping you figure out what Bokuto might like to do with you?’

‘Bokuto-san doesn’t have spare time on these things – and you’re just making an excuse to explore cafes in Tokyo at my expense!’ 

‘Two birds, one stone. Don’t be pedantic, Keiji-kun!’ 

The next time he’s back in one of those dreams, he finds his past self dressed in a blue yukata along the Sumida river, tugging Bokuto away from the takoyaki store. He remembers Bokuto dragging him away from the rest of the team on a quest to buy some snacks at the food stalls set up around the park, insisting that his stomach’s growling too loudly to wait until the fireworks display is over ‘come on, even you can hear my stomach at this rate, Akaaashi!!!’ – but that’s where the dream starts to diverge. 

‘If you queue for takoyaki, we’re going to miss the fireworks, and you don’t want to miss that, do you Bokuto-san?’ he says, hand firmly on Bokuto’s yukata sleeve. 

‘That’s right! But shouldn’t we join the rest of the team? They’ve got a spot by the river just over there!’ 

‘We won’t get there in time with this crowd – come on! If we hurry, I know the perfect spot to watch the display’, weaving his way through the crowd to shimmy up the trunk of a tree and settle himself comfortably against a large branch. 

‘Woah – Akaashi! I never knew you could climb trees!’ Bokuto calls, sounding impressed.

‘Well, don’t stand there, come join me!’ 

The tree creaks ominously as the larger boy scales its trunk, branches already heavy with red lanterns groaning in protest as he settles himself in the branch opposite Akaashi. And not a moment too soon, because a collective gasp ripples through the crowd along the river as the night sky explodes into rainbow hued fiery streaks.

‘It’s amazing, Akaashi!’ Bokuto hollers with his face tilted up to the sky. 

‘You’re amazing, Bokuto-san’, he says fondly, reaching over to bump Bokuto’s shoulder with his fist and the older boy beams at him, the sheer delight in his smile brighter than the fireworks in the sky. There is a sea of stars in his eyes, and Akaashi wants to shrivel in shame at the way his younger self looks like he’s mentally planning to pirate a boat to cross the straits to Bokuto’s heart. 

‘There is no way I’m going to do that’ he hears himself say, sounding mildly cross. 

‘Eh – it’s cute. ‘sides, doesn’t he look so happy’ he hears her say, sounding overly chipper. 

‘You could spend your time instead learning how to play so Bokuto-san won’t pout when you sit out of practice and you wouldn’t have to pretend you sprain your wrist every time we swap.’

‘Are you mad? Do you really think they won’t think something’s up when I can’t even do a simple serve?’ 

‘Fine. You have a point’, he answers begrudgingly. 

‘Of course I do. Come on Keiji, live a little. Enjoy your time with the lodestar of your life’.

‘Can you not say things like that?’ he says dryly. 

‘It’s your fault for reading so much Shakespeare to me!’ she replies with a grin in her voice.

He texts Bokuto the minute he wakes up. ‘Bokuto-san, apologies if this seems weird, but do you remember if we ever climbed a tree when we watched fireworks with our team?’ 

Bokuto takes a while to respond, but that’s to be expected, it’s his mornings are usually filled with practice and conditioning. But when he does respond, his text makes Akaashi’s brow curl. ‘Nope, but sounds fun! What’s up Akaashi!!’ 

Akaashi drops his head in his palms. Good to know he’s not losing his grip on reality at least. 

But his sleep for the following weeks continues to be filled with dreams in the same vein. 

He dreams of scenes that have never taken place in real life - him challenging Bokuto-san to ramen eating competition, the older boy winning handily of course, crowing like a child when he slurps the last mouthful of tonkatsu broth - ‘eh Akaashi, eat faster!’, him dragging Bokuto-san to the arcade near school, demolishing middle schoolers in endless games of dance dance revolution (there is no way he is actually able to move like that in real life) and losing far too much money in claw games - ‘Akaashi I really want that toy pleaseeee’ - and even he would admit it’s absolutely adorable if not for the fact that he can’t explain why these dreams keep invading his head like a wildfire that refuses to die. 

‘I honestly don’t understand you’, she says and again, why on earth is she in this set of dreams - she doesn’t belong in them -

‘What exactly do you not understand?’

‘If you like him that much, why aren’t you jumping at the chance to hang out with him? All you do is nag me about how I’m wasting his time, I’m wasting your time, but I don’t understand -  isn’t time meant to be spent on the people you love? Unless you’re confusing love with admiration, because yes, I get that you admire his talent, but you don’t seem to have all that much patience for spending time with him outside of school.’ 

‘I suppose I do like him, but…’

‘Finally you admit it, but I don’t like the sound of that word.’ 

‘It’s nothing’, he finally says, and she huffs in annoyance, clearly wanting him to explain but he stubbornly refuses to say another word. 

His past self is skidding down the hallway with Bokuto hot on his heels yelling ‘Akaaashiii you owe me a Yakisoba bunnnnn’ when he hears an almighty crash behind him. As he spins around, Bokuto’s sprawled on the floor, papers and books scattered around him. The older boy grimaces as he sits up, grabbing at his ankle in pain. 

‘Bokuto-san, are you ok?’ he cries, running back towards the older boy. 

‘I might have twisted my ankle. Argh this is bad - prelims are just next week!’ Bokuto groans, clutching at his ankle desperately. 

‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine tomorrow, trust me’, his past self says with complete certainty, and flags down a passing student to call for a teacher. 

‘Look what you’ve done now. Are you happy with yourself?’ he hears himself say accusingly. ‘Everything might reset tomorrow, but look - he’s hurt himself today. Is this what you’ve been trying to prove to me?’ 

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’ he hears her say, her voice watery. ‘I didn’t think -’ 

‘Of course you didn’t, you never think about the consequences of your actions, do you?’ he says, glass shards in his words. 

His dream fades to black. He never hears her answer. 

His sleep remains relatively undisturbed for the next fortnight, just in time for his mid-term exams which he aces, even his course on classical Japanese literature. He’s relieved of course, because his final year grades matter most when it comes to recruitment, yet there’s a part of him that’s buried deep between ventricles and pumping flesh that childishly wonders what his dreams are going to show him next.

His wish is answered when he opens his eyes to an ocean of stars, white pinpricks of light against the vast tapestry of the purple night sky. His head is pillowed on tufts of grass and the wind whispers against his feet.

The sight takes his breath away. 

He’s a born and bred city boy, and he knows from experience it’s near impossible to see stars in the city sky amidst light pollution and masquerading satellites.  

‘Is this your way of apologising?’ he asks, his voice wry. 

‘Is it working yet?’ he hears her ask, an uncharacteristically timid note in her voice. He laughs, a fond sound, and he can hear her huff a breath through her mouth. ‘I am sorry though, Keiji. I never meant to hurt him’. 

‘It’s fine, no damage done. Besides, I was thinking about what you said.’

‘Me? About what? I know I’ve said plenty to you so far’, she says curiously. 

‘About Bokuto-san’, he supplies, and she stays silent, waiting for him to go on. The stars twinkle down at him, and if he closes his eyes, he can imagine the galaxy reaching down to lend him its infinite strength. ‘You were right about how…I felt about Bokuto-san. I thought what I felt for him was something more than it really was - now I’m starting to realise I just admire his strength, and I don’t see our paths ever converging, especially if he’s going to chase his dreams of going pro all the way’. 

‘You don’t have to chase someone else’s light when you’re brilliant in your own right’, she says gently. 

‘Thanks’, he answers thickly, as if the word feels a little awkward in his mouth. 

‘So -’ she pipes up, and he can tell she’s trying her best to paper over the sudden lapse of silence. ‘Will you tell me stories about the stars, Keiji?’

He laughs fondly, raising a hand to catch the stardust from the sparkling constellations overhead. ‘I could tell you the story of Andromeda, chained to rocks as a sacrifice to satisfy the cruel demands of the sea monster?’ 

‘Ugh no gory stories, I want a happy ending!’ 

‘It has a happy ending, I promise. Just be patient and listen, okay?’ 

Akaashi wakes up before his past self can finish telling the tale of Persues’ rescue of Andromeda from the jaws of defeat. It’s barely three in the morning, but he knows it’s futile to try to go back to sleep. He wanders to the window, and wonders whether the lone star hanging in the cloudy sky is merely a satellite in disguise. 

Against his better judgment, he dials Bokuto’s number. 

‘What’s up, Akaashi!’ he hears the older man mumble sleepily, sheets rustling. 

‘Was it obvious I had a crush on you in high school?’ he asks plainly. If seeking closure is what he needs to end this slew of dreams, then he’s going to do it, never mind the embarrassment thick in the blood in his veins.

‘Huh?’ 

Akaashi’s pretty sure he can hear Bokuto blink rapidly. ‘A crush on you’, he repeats, and for good measure he adds - ‘sometime in your third year of high school’. 

‘Ehhhh…’ Bokuto’s voice trails off over the phone. ‘You did?’ 

The sigh that trips out of Akaashi’s mouth is worn, weary. ‘I did’, he confirms, embarrassment writhing in his belly. 

‘But you stopped right? Just before I graduated? You started becoming distracted after Spring High and I thought you were just worrying about university entrance exams.’

‘I suppose.’ And Akaashi should really get a grip on himself but his dreams have been doing a number on him so to his horror, he starts to ramble. ’ It’s probably the lack of sleep, but look - this sounds really stupid but I was having a lot of really weird dreams and I don’t understand what’s happening but I’m hoping getting this off my chest helps me get some more sleep and I hope you don’t think I’m completely weird and don’t mind still being my friend -’

‘Woah, ‘kaashi, slow down! You’re overthinking again - what, you think I’m not going to be your friend anymore?’ Bokuto booms, laughing widely. 

‘Uh. I don’t know?’ 

‘Relax! I’m flattered, but I think it’s a good thing we never went out! You were already so stressed dealing with me in high school Washio used to joke about your hair falling out, but I’ve changed! Now I’m just an ordinary ace!’ 

‘Bokuto-san, I don’t think anyone would call you ordinary’, Akaashi interjects, rubbing circles against his temple. 

‘You know what I mean!’ Bokuto laughs, the sound so round and boisterous that it makes Akaashi quirk his lips up in affection. 

‘Yes, Bokuto-san. Anyway, sorry for disturbing your sleep.’ 

‘Anytime, Akaashi!’ They bid each other goodnight, and the relief he feels after the call settles on his chest like a blanket, and he falls back to sleep. 

Taglist: 

@1tooru @kageyamakock @animeflower26 @underrated-fruit-tarts-official

[corinnesamuels]

Guarding the Gates, Chapter 10: A Question of Legacy

Cover art by the amazing @the-dream-team!

“I’m surprised you came.” Regulus says as he turns back to observe the ducks. 

“I am too.” Sirius replies. “Though, if you could get on with it, I do have things to do today.” Sirius hates how easily his voice slips back into the cadence his family had beaten into him growing up but sounding like a detached aristocrat was usually the best course of action for conversations like these. 

Regulus hums lightly. “Carrying out Dumbledore’s bidding, I presume?”

Sirius rolls his eyes in exasperation. “What is it you called me here for? It isn’t to kill me because we both know you don’t have the stomach for that. Did your master want to send a message, then?”

Regulus gives an incredulous laugh as he turns to face his brother fully. “You think you’re important enough to receive a message from the Dark Lord?”

“Surely, I’ve taken down enough of his followers to have caught his attention by now.” Sirius makes a show of idly scanning the crossword.

“Enough for him to wonder why you’re turning your back on the people of our birth and the legacy of our house, perhaps.” Regulus brushes an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve. “But no, I’m here on my own accord.”

“And the purpose is?”

“My purpose is to discover why you always insist on playing for the losing side.” Regulus says. It surprises Sirius to realize how well he still knows his brother. He recognized the slight hitch in his voice. Others may have thought Regulus was taunting him, but it isn’t a taunt in his voice. It’s concern.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about me? Mother and father will be apoplectic when they find out.” 

“Yes, because you have shunned everything they wanted for you!” Regulus grips the back of the bench tightly before dropping his head in frustration.

“What they wanted for me? Pureblood fanaticism, inbreeding, and a penchant for dark magic? I’ll pass on that if you don’t mind.” Sirius tucks his newspaper into his jacket pocket and begins to stand. “Well, if that’s all—”

“Legacy, Sirius.” Regulus cuts in through bared teeth. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

“What in our legacy do we have to be proud of, Regulus?” Sirius barks out. “The only things worth mentioning are things our parents despise. I only learned those things  because  they despised them.”

“Our parents wanted so much for you.” Regulus shakes his head in exasperation. “The named you after the brightest star in the night sky—”

“Here we go again with this bollocks—”

“They placed their hopes for our family’s legacy on you. And you have treated it with scorn since the very beginning.” Regulus says. “And spending all of your time with Potter has only made it worse.”

“I treated it with scorn because that’s what any decent person would have done, Regulus. I’d tell you to try it sometime, but you love taking up the mantle I left behind, don’t you?” Sirius says it sarcastically, but something clicks in his mind as soon as the words leave his mouth. He whips his head back to Regulus. “You don’t.” 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Regulus says dismissively, but Sirius knows better.

“Mummy and Daddy’s expectations are weighing on you more than you’d care to admit.” Sirius says as he walks closer to his brother. “Their hopes and dreams suddenly feel like burdens to you, too, don’t they?”

Regulus doesn’t answer. He just stares across the park as a means of avoiding eye contact with Sirius. Sirius takes a deep breath and takes another step closer.

“You don’t have to fight for him just because they tell you to.” he says. 

“What, you want me to come to the losing side? You want me to believe that your friends will welcome a Death Eater into the ranks?” Regulus shakes his head and laughs in disbelief.

“Who said we’re losing?”

“The people that keep deciding the terms of the fighting.”

The two brothers stared at each other defiantly, though neither of them knew quite why. It was a posture they had adopted once Sirius had moved out at 16, one that made little sense then and made even less now.

“It seems as if we disagree on who is losing.” Sirius says before giving Regulus a questioning glance. “Is that the only reason you joined them, then? Self-preservation and our parents’ expectations?”

“I couldn’t care less about power, Sirius.” Regulus waves a hand dismissively at the thought. “What else is there besides self-preservation and our family’s legacy?”

“Deciding to do the right thing.”

“The concepts of right and wrong always were so black and white with you. Until the day you found yourself in the grey area.”

Sirius clenches his fist and just barely refrains from punching Regulus, though he desperately wants to. “We have a chance to make sure our family’s legacy includes being on the right side of this.” He says through gritted teeth before sighing and running a hand roughly over his mouth. “Look, Reg, come with me to Dumbledore. He can keep you protected, and you can see what life is like when you aren’t being forced into things you know are bollocks. You don’t have to keep doing our parents’ bidding.”

“You’re willing to die behind this…this folly?” Regulus asks quietly. 

“Yes.” Sirius says simply. For a moment, he thinks he may have won Regulus over. But then he sees his brother’s eyes glaze over into the aloof unbotheredness that was the Black family’s emotional default—when they weren’t deranged and sadistic like Bellatrix or Walburga. 

They stand there for a while in silence before Regulus takes a step backward.

“Be careful, Brother.” Regulus says. Sirius shakes his head and begins to stalk away when Regulus calls out to him. “I’m surprised you haven’t changed your last name to ‘Potter’ considering how much you’ve taken to acting like them.”

Sirius stops to turn to Regulus once more and laughs in spite of himself. “And miss out on the opportunity to piss off Mother and Father by dragging the family name through the mud? Never.”

   The War was becoming more tense by the day. There were more Death Eater attacks of muggle villages, more disappearances, more suspicions of Ministry officials being under the Imperius Curse. The Order of the Phoenix was often tired, and there had been several close calls, but their resolve remained. 

Despite the dark cloud hovering over the wizarding world, or maybe because of it, many young couples were cutting their engagements short, choosing to get married quickly because they saw every day just how short life could be. People the Marauders, Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary knew from school joined in the fray. Henry MacMillan and Aurora Gade married just two months after getting engaged. Penelope Parkin and Ian Abbot married after just two months of dating. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Alice and Frank announced after an Order meeting that they would be doing the same. They’d held hands while making the announcement, exchanging looks that were equal parts adoring, frightened, and resolved. It was new for many of the Order to see them like that. It was no secret that the two had been dating, and in the rare instances when they all gathered to let down their collective hair, the couple looked as smitten and loving any other young couple looked. But in Order meetings, they were fighters, Aurors on a secret mission flying below the Ministry’s radar. To see them this way was a rare glimpse of their private selves, the ones they reserved only for each other.

When Dorcas made a statement about it being swoon-worthy a little too casually, Lily knew her friend was refraining from letting her eyes drift over to Remus Lupin. Lily couldn’t really say for sure, though, because she had been too busy trying not to let hers drift over to the man standing next to him. Lily was happy for Frank and Alice, and she loved that they had found love in each other in ways that worked for them. A part of her wishes she felt that it was something she could have for herself, but how could she risk that now? As a muggle-born? As a member of a resistance group operating outside the confines of the law? As someone who had seen how love can be used to break people in ways that still haunt her nightmares?

Read the rest at ao3!

Start from the beginning

[bellakitse]

Love In This Club

TK and Carlos meet in a nightclub for the first time, sparks fly.

Rated: M

Flash fiction friday!

TK walks off the dance floor, covered in a sheen of sweat, but with a grin on his face as the base of the music around him makes his blood pump a little harder than usual. There is something about getting lost in the beat of a good song as a crowd of strangers dance around you that TK loves.

Finding this nightclub in his first month in Austin has been a godsend.

He makes his way to the bar, signaling the bartender for a bottle of water to help with his parched throat, bobbing his head to the newest song as he waits before turning around to watch the crowd.

“You move your hips really well.”

TK turns to his left, the rejection he has at the ready dying at the tip of his tongue as he takes in the man that has come to stand next to him. The comment he just said might be ridiculous, but it’s not nearly as ridiculous as how good-looking he is. Tall, and built like a brick house, his biceps bulge pleasantly in his sinfully tight shirt. TK runs his eyes down the stranger’s body, swallowing back an appreciative sigh. It’s not just his shirt that is tight but his jeans too. TK has to curb the urge to ask him to turn around just to see how well they cup what TK is sure is a spectacular ass.

He looks up again, and if the guy’s body is a work of art, then his face is a masterpiece. Dark curls that look glossy under the blinking lights, proud brows, and pretty eyes, the color of melted chocolate that shine even in the dim, smoky club. A straight nose, and full lips, the softest shade of pink. Finally, a jawline and cheekbones that look like they could cut glass. TK licks his lips; he’d really like to lean in and bite right under that jawline.

He swallows hard at the impulse; it’s been a long time since he’s instantly reacted to someone like this. Still, that cheesy pick-up line can not stand, not with him.

“Does that usually work for you?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. “Kind of weak for a come-on.”

“Stating a fact isn’t a come-on,” the stranger answers with an easy smile that somehow makes him even more handsome. TK would think it impossible when the guy is already a 10, but now is at least a 12. He feels his mouth curve upward into a reluctant smile despite himself. There is an easy confidence in the guy as he leans on the bar; his body turned towards TK as he gives him the full power of his charm.

“Okay, that was a little smoother,” he says reluctantly, grinning when the stranger laughs.

“I’m Carlos,” he tells him, extending a firm hand.

“TK,” he replies, shaking it. He tries not to think about that grip on other parts of his body and how good it would feel to be held down by that strength.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” Carlos comments as he turns his body a little further to give TK his complete attention. TK does the same, focusing on Carlos instead of the dance floor.

“Maybe you haven’t noticed me before,” TK counters as he takes a sip of his water.

“Trust me, you’d be hard to miss,” Carlos shoots back casually, and TK can’t help but shake his head with another smile playing on his lips. His stomach flips with the anticipation that comes with interacting with someone you’re attracted to, and you know they return the attention.

“Getting even smoother, I see,” he teases, charmed by Carlos’ somewhat awkward shrug and boyish smile in response. “But you’re right, I’m new in town. New Job.”

“Oh, what do you do?” Carlos asks him over the start of a new sultry song; the vibrations make TK’s body buzz.

TK looks at him, takes in once again just how beautiful the man before him is, how interested he seems in him, and TK knows he doesn’t want to waste time on small talk.

He lets Carlos know.

“Listen, we could waste the next fifteen or twenty minutes telling each other mindless tidbits about each other – “ he trails off. He sucks in his bottom lip as Carlos’ expression heats up before he takes yet another step closer to him, his front brushing TK’s.

“Or?” Carlos questions even as he already knows the alternative; he places a hand at TK’s elbow, his fingers trailing lightly over his skin, raising the fine hairs in their wake as the simple touch lights TK up inside.

“Or – ” TK lets the word hang, desire licking at his belly as Carlos’ eyes darken. He doesn’t let TK finish – not that he needs to at this point – as he closes the small distance between their mouths, his lips slated over TK’s in a hot kiss that has zero hesitation to it.

TK moans into it, letting his body sway into Carlos’ space, groaning when he wraps his strong arms around his waist, holding TK up as he all but melts under the intensity of their kiss. He parts his lips at the touch of Carlos’ tongue against them – like a silent request TK enthusiastically gives. Bringing his hands up to Carlos’ head, TK grips at those beautiful curls and deepens the kiss further – tongues dancing over each other as they learn the taste of the other.

“Fuck,” Carlos groans out, breaking the kiss to let TK gasp for breath, only to steal it again as he ducks his head into the crook of his neck, kissing and biting at TK’s skin. “You’re so damn gorgeous,” he whispers hotly into his flesh.

“If you don’t take me upstairs right now, I’m going to explode,” TK tells him seriously, giving Carlos a pointed look when he pulls back to look at him, his eyes silently asking TK if he’s sure. He nods once, exhaling when Carlos returns the gesture and takes his hand, leading him up the stairs of the club to the private booths the place is famous for when couples need a moment of privacy.

They barely have the door to the tiny room closed before they’re all over each other once more, hands pulling at each other’s clothes like a pair of teenagers getting some action for the first time. The thought makes TK giggle, breaking the kiss. Carlos pulls back, raising an eyebrow in question, so TK shrugs as he tells him.

“It’s like we’re horny 16-year-olds,” he says, grinning as it makes Carlos chuckle. “Just so excited we are getting lucky.”

Carlos’ expression softens, he leans in, brushing his lips across TK’s. With hands at TK’s waist, he walks him backwards until the back of his knees hit a love seat. TK sits down, swallowing hard when Carlos goes to his knees in front of him, his hands undoing TK’s belt, pants button, and zipper. TK is panting by the time Carlos has him in his hand and out of his pants.

“I never got this lucky when I was sixteen, darling,” Carlos tells him, a bit of a drawl to the endearment.

TK wants to answer, there is a smartass retort at the tip of his tongue, but it dies along with any intelligent thought as Carlos leans forward and takes him in his mouth. All TK can do is melt into the seat, all but drooling as Carlos takes him to the root, his tongue swirling over the head of his cock, before pressing at the underside in a way that makes TK see stars.

TK grips the armrests of the love seat to try and stay anchored to this plane of existence while Carlos bobs up and down, making the most delicious noises as he gives TK the best blowjob of his life. Holding on only last for a second, it seems like Carlos is going for the hottest being on the planet award; he reaches for TK’s hands, never once stopping his perfect rhythm as he places TK’s now free hands on top of his head, letting go of them.

Looking up, he locks eyes with TK, daring him as he opens his mouth some more.

With a groan that comes from deep in his chest, TK wraps his fingers around those beautiful curls and gives Carlos what he wants. With a firm grip, he starts to fuck Carlos’ mouth steadily. Possibly falling in love with the man before him, as his eyes flutter shut, a blissful expression on his face the further TK fucks down his throat.

TK wishes he could last longer, but with the picture Carlos makes before him and the perfect heat of his even more perfect mouth, TK’s orgasm comes with the roaring speed of a locomotive. He signals Carlos that he’s at the edge, ready to finish out of his mouth, but proving that perfect is not a good enough word to describe him, Carlos pulls him in even further, swallowing around him as TK starts to come. He works him through his orgasm, only popping off when he’s taken every last bit TK has to offer.

There is a smug grin on Carlos’ face as TK gives him a dazed look, it makes TK want to roll his eyes, but all he can manage is a fond smile of his own as he motions for him to get up, patting at his thigh. Carlos follows his request, climbing onto his lap, still smiling as TK grips his hair once more, kissing the taste of himself on Carlos’ lips as he frees him from his own jeans.

He gives Carlos a smirk of his own when he pulls back to lick at his hand, getting it nice and wet under Carlos’ hot gaze before he wraps it around his cock.

“First, I get you off,” TK tells him, heat sparking once again in his stomach as Carlos moves, fucking himself into TK’s fist. He rests his forehead against TK’s as they both look down to watch. “Then we should go get some food,” he continues.

“And after?” Carlos pants, rolling his hips in sync with the twist of TK’s wrist.

“And after we should go back to your place or mine,” TK really doesn’t care where they end up as long as there’s a hard surface. “Where you promise to fuck me into the mattress.”

Carlos looks up at him; his pupils are blown-wide with desire. He pulses in TK’s hand, and he knows Carlos is close. He gives it a squeeze that pulls a low broken moan out of the beautiful man on his lap. “Deal?”

Carlos’ grin is wide, if a little shaky, as he gets closer, his eyes sparkling with the promise of the night to come. “Oh, it’s a deal.”

[benscursedkid]

ignore the fact that this is two? three months late?? virtual school kicked my ass but what else is new. luckily, I’m on summer break now so I should be more active soon. I’m sorry again for the outrageous delay and I hope you enjoy. thank you for requesting!! 💙

Jae taps his foot on the cold stone floor, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Even though he’d put the effort into doing his hair, his anxiety left both his hands running through it and now it looks just as messy and disheveled as always. His nose scrunches irritably at the realization, but he shakes his head and tries to rid himself of the thought. His arms cross and he goes to check a watch that is not there. He frowns at his mistake.

The sun has already set dutifully over the horizon, disappearing behind the mountains of the highlands, out of sight. A midnight blue paints the sky now, stars winking and shining. But instead of the grim darkness that usually accompanies the nights at Hogwarts, the prefects took it upon themselves to line the hallways with red and pink lanterns in the spirit of the lovers’ holiday.

The warm, gentle pink light conflicts slightly with the barest hint of green lamplight coming from the dungeons where Jae is currently posted outside of.

He goes to check the watch again. Cringes at his repeated idiocy. He clutches Rayann’s gift tighter.

Ever since his little mistletoe stunt during Christmas, Rayann has been unexpectedly (though not unfortunately) more...attentive. They no longer share detention everyday, but somehow she always seems to make the time for him—meeting him in all sorts of places, even places he shouldn’t be. Madam Pince, particularly, is not very impressed by his sudden frequency in the library.

“Jae?”

The voice is even and measured, yet surprisingly...delicate. The sound brings both a smile to his face and a new flare of nerves up his spine.

“Rayann,” Jae grins impishly as he always does, but his smile is slightly more lop-sided and his shoulders far more tense. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Rayann offers him an unimpressed look, though it’s not as dry as he’s seen it many times before. “Well, I...did say I had something for you. I merely regret we couldn’t have met up sooner.”

Suddenly bashful, Jae scratches the back of his neck with a youthful blush. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Business was booming today, I barely had time to breathe to be honest with you.”

The Slytherin frowns at this but says nothing else.

Jae eyes her hands clasped behind her back and he grins once again. “Ladies first or is that too traditional?”

Rayann snorts. “It’s fine.”

She hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath once before her hands are held out in front of her. From her fist hangs a small, simple red gift bag, though it appears she did add a golden ribbon for good measure.

Jae leans back to set his own gift bag behind him, making sure it is still obscured from her sight. Gently, he takes the bag from her hands, the straps dangling precariously off his fingertips. Doing his best to fight off the instinct to peek, Jae’s hand meets a smooth surface and his fingers wrap around it and pull it out of the bag.

It’s...a book?

“I—” Rayann clears her throat, a blush of her own settling on her cheeks. For a moment, Jae is struck with just how fitting the sight looks underneath the hazy pink glow of the lanterns.

“You always get detention for speaking out of term,” she clarifies as though Jae did not already know this. Half the time he does it on purpose just to get reactions out of his more peevish professors. “You...seem to have a lot to say and I...don’t mind listening.”

His head tilts in slight bemusement still. “And this book is for...?”

“It’s a two way book. It’s connected to another one that I carry around myself,” She explains, a hand reaching up to tuck some stray strands of hair behind her ear. Jae finds the action ridiculously endearing. “Anything you write in there will appear in my book and vise versa. We can talk to each other in class. It’s practical.”

In spite of the implication her words might have to anyone else, Jae nearly sags in relief at her choice of word and he suddenly remembers the gift he got for her.

He smiles and it’s shockingly sincere, so much so that it looks almost out of place on his face. “Thank you, Ray. I think I’ll be putting it to good use.”

“Not likely.” She says, but her lips tug up into a knowing smile and Jae himself grins at the dry joke.

Without missing a beat, Jae tucks the notebook carefully back into the bag and grabs his own behind him. In a not-exactly-shocking display, this one is green. And slightly bigger.

“Here.” Is all he says and Rayann eyes it for a moment before reaching out to take it.

She opens it mechanically. Meticulously. Avoiding bending the cheap plastic or ripping the even cheaper tissue paper on top as she casts it aside.

She goes quiet when she looks inside.

Jae’s heart beats painfully in his chest.

Slowly, Rayann pulls out what appears to been a thin green jacket, the fabric hanging from her pointer finger. She studies it for a moment before looking back at him.

“What is it?”

Jae chuckles at the remark and at the fact that she truly knows him so well. “What do you mean, Ray? It’s a jacket, clearly—”

“What else is it?” She arches a questing eyebrow at him, her brown eyes intrigued and imploring. “What does it do?”

His shoulders straighten and he puts on his selling smile—the one he uses to convince his buyers of their purchase. Though the quirk of his lips this time is a bit more fond, just a little more reverent. “This is a one of a kind charmed jacket—enchanted to not only match any outfit you put it over, but also to shift and change to accommodate the weather it is worn in,” Jae’s cheeks grow hot when he catches her eyes from across the top of the jacket, still held up between them. “Y’know...it’s practical. I thought you’d like that.”

Jae’s breath is caught embarrassingly in his throat in the short second it takes for Rayann to react to his gift. When she does, a pure, genuine smile breaks out across her face. The gesture cracks her neutral, intimidating expression and turns it into one no form of picture or prose or art could ever hope to imitate. Not if it has any desire of capturing it fully, in all its ethereal essence.

“I love it,” She says eventually and Jae is left with no room for doubt. She smiles shyly up at him but gratitude and understanding shine brilliantly in her soft eyes. “Thank you, Jae.”

“Thank you, Ray,” Jae shoots back, taking a step forward closer to her. On an instinct he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been high off the sight of her smile, soft and rare and glorious, he leans down just slightly to press his lips cautiously to her cheek. He can feel the skin heat beneath his lips and it leaves them tingling even after he steps away. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

It takes her a moment to respond and when she does her voice is slightly strained but her eyes are still bright and it makes Jae smile for the umpteenth time that night since she showed up.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jae.”