#other notes include: his quirk is more 'toned down' i guess you could say

[nekropsii]

kinda surprised I haven't seen anyone else ask this yet, but does sov mituna still have brain damage? I wouldn't expect you to completely veto it obviously but seeing as he is a reincarnation I'm guessing it's a bit different?

Yes, our Mituna still has Brain Damage. It's still specifically a TBI to the Frontal Lobe, and it was still gained through a Great Act of Heroism. The main difference between Homestuck's Mituna and Sovereignstuck's Mituna in that respect is that we write him and his disability with significantly more care and sensitivity. This is because we actually like him, and we do not hate disabled people, lol.

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀DETECTIVE AND MURDERER IN HELL . —

#pairing : alastor x gn reader. #cw : may include adult content. enemies to lovers trope. #summary : you were a detective when you were a human! but uh oh, you died.. and you meet the target that you were on to before your death? #note : I feel bad for not posting for so long, here's a little sneak peek at what I'm working on! i received this prompt from an anon in my inbox and do i love it very much. i have so many ideas for this fic, it'll be my first ever long fic on this blog! i'll reply to the ask once I'm done with the fic :3

“my, isn’t it my favorite detective!” you hear a static, loud voice speak from behind you. you quirk a brow, slowly turning your head to see a demon that somehow resembles a deer. a red deer, that is. he wears this wide smile that stretches from ear to ear, his whole attire so formal it makes you question if you’re underdressed. he holds a cane in his hands; it looks like a speaker that he got custom-made. confusion bubbles inside of you, and multiple questions float across your mind. who is this man, that so happens to know what you work as when you were still alive?

and, out of all demons, why are you his favorite?

“I’m sorry, but have we met?” you turn your body to face him fully, your eyes scanning from head to toe wondering if it’s just a fuzzy memory of yours. the demon steps closer to you, a sense of uneasiness instantly rushes through your veins. you shudder suddenly..

“aha, of course we have! you were even so interested in me back when we were alive!” his words only made your confusion grow. you, being interested in someone? in what way? your work has never allowed you any extra space to catch feelings for anyone around you, so surely it’s not a crush unless you’ve misunderstood. It’s like he read your thoughts, he quickly adds in with a light chuckle.

“constantly trying to gather information about me, pinpointing my location, guessing my next move. fun times! I truly enjoyed watching you do so.” something clicked in your head. so this demon was presumably a target of yours before he died, but how could you know exactly which? you had so many targets, so many psychopaths you had to track down and lock them up for good. though, something about his deer features brings a blurry memory of a specific target that you currently can’t quite put a name to his face.

everyone in the hotel watches your interaction with the red demon quietly. the air is tense, nobody dared to breathe any harder than they are now. charlie is the most anxious one out of everyone in the room; angel is starting to doubt whether he should’ve brought you back to the hotel. but, surely, the manager is smarter than to kill off someone interested in staying, no?

“care to remind me which one are you?” your hands instinctively hide themselves in your pockets as a habit. your tone isn’t as friendly as it was when you spoke to the others, and the demon is loving the reaction he’s getting from you.

“gladly, my dear friend! i’d say my case was the one you spent the most time on,” you suddenly feel a strong tug on your hand before realizing that you’re shaking hands with the demon. his smile widens as you grow more uncomfortable. “the name’s alastor! pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure! I was there to witness your lovely slash boring death,”

you pull your hand back from his grasp, face scrunching at the mention of your death. he witnessed your death? what is he hinting? Is he trying to tell you that it was he who took the life of yours?

“I watched as you were murdered by one petty man i convinced, it was one of the most boring deaths i’ve ever seen! but dear, was i disappointed that you’ll never be able to put a close to my case when i thought you’d do better at fighting back.” you freeze suddenly, blood running cold from your face as he carries on.

“I was the last target you had before dying, it was a joy toying with you like a little mouse.”

so that’s what all the familiarity you felt was. his demeanor and personality, all that was jotted down in the notebook you had for research. he matches everything you wrote; you remember word by word from the number of times you’ve reread it, the times at night when you’re desperate to finally put the case to a stop. you feel anger and disgust pound in your chest, feet stepping back a couple of times.

he’s the reason why you died. you stare at his mocking smile, his expression that clearly shows his enjoyment while watching your reaction. a growl bubbles from your chest, and you see the spider demon hesitantly approach you. he stays beside you, rubbing his arm nervously while trying to think of a reason to pull you away from this scene.

“I died because of you,” you breathe out, body shaking not from fear but anger and realization. you suddenly leap forward when angel is about to reach out for your arm, your fingers curl tightly around the collar of alastor’s shirt. his smile only widens at your actions, a light hum that slides out so smoothly and audibly. “and it was purely for fun?” it’s even possible to notice every small feature you have on your face from how close you’ve pulled his face to yours. you earn a mere shrug from the demon.

“woah! babes, hey, calm down would’ja? let’s head somewhere else.” you feel a tug at your arm, but you don’t budge. you want to hurt this demon, to beat him until he’s curled up into a ball on the ground, but you can’t. there’s something holding you back, something telling you to not go any further than what you’re currently doing. he reeks of danger and mystery, hell knows what would he do to you if you were to cross his line. with another growl, you harshly push him away and he stumbles back a few steps with a small ‘oh!’.

angel sees this and takes the chance to quickly drag you away from the scene, and you let him. Everyone in the hall watches angel drag you all the way to the kitchen until alastor is out of your sight. his clawed fingers release your arm, a concerned gaze fixated on your slumping figure as you let out a deep sigh while pressing your face onto the surface of your palms.

now, you’ll really have to think it through whether you want to stay in this hotel. having so many things to take in so suddenly messes up your thoughts, something you’re unfamiliar with considering how you’re always sharp and organized.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

I posted 808 times in 2022

That's 808 more posts than 2021!

504 posts created (62%)

304 posts reblogged (38%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@whatudowhennooneseesyou

@ateezreactionsandscenarios

@mischiefsmind

@chvnnie

@whatsk-poppinhomies

I tagged 632 of my posts in 2022

Only 22% of my posts had no tags

#ateez smut - 287 posts

#ateez hard hours - 203 posts

#kpop smut - 194 posts

#stray kids smut - 130 posts

#whatudowhennooneseesyou anon asks - 125 posts

#whatudowhennooneseesyou - 118 posts

#mommytober 2022 - 117 posts

#ateez - 109 posts

#skz smut - 102 posts

#seonghwa smut - 96 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#i have them both on the universe app and i squeal when i receive a notification from them and mum's like do you have a bf and i'm like no

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Mommy!December: Day 2

Request: 'HEYYY ITS ME. I need a Mommy!Seonghwa, marking and Hella possessiveness PLEASE. Oh how I want that man to make me turn into a puddle of mess'

Yeah, I know I'm starting a little early but I just got too excited because y'all know how much I love writing Mommy! Seonghwa.

Word Count: circa 600 words.

Content includes: Dom!Seonghwa x sub!fem reader, praise, possessiveness, marking, thigh-biting, humiliation, edging, nipple-biting, just a lot of biting in general (I mean, what do you expect?), kissing, cum play, fingering, rough sex, slight choking, hickeys, use of the word c*nt & c*m.

And everyone should know if you've read my fics:

How do you know it's Mommy!Seonghwa?

Because of the term 'precious, little star'.

'You thought you were being sneaky on Mommy weren't you?' Seonghwa cooed at you, his voice edged with a mocking tone.

You watched as Seonghwa propped your right ankle over his shoulder, anticipation pooling in your stomach.

'I guess Mommy needs to teach you a lesson' He smirked, leaning down and pressing a few kisses to the inside of your thigh, he watched you sigh in pleasure.

And then he suddenly bit down on the skin, causing you to jolt and whine under Seonghwa's touch.

'What was that for?' You huffed, trying to move your leg but Seonghwa only gripped your ankle tighter.

'What were you doing?' Seonghwa's eyebrow quirked, expecting an answer.

'I-I don't know' You responded, feeling confused.

You jolted again with a yelp as Seonghwa bit again, next to the other reddening hickey this time and lapped at the skin.

'Don't lie to me precious, you know Mommy watches everything' His voice raspy, his eyes accusing you for what you committed.

Your pride fell to the floor and you turned your head away from him,

'I don't want to say it-AHHH!' Seonghwa's teeth bit into the flesh of your other thigh, you could hear the suction of his teeth as he pulled away.

'Mommy will just keep biting you unless you say' He rested his head on your crotch, hands sliding up the outside of your thighs.

'And to think I was going to be nice and prep you, slip my fingers in, taste you' Seonghwa's ran his thumb up the seam as he mentioned this, you could feel his breath against your clit.

'I was quite looking forward to it too' He huffed dramatically, his expression almost comical 'But I guess..'

'No-wait! I' The teasing was too much, his breath against your cunt was already making you ache.

A murmur left your throat 'I was playing with myself' you sighed out.

Seonghwa pressed a soft kiss of reassurance over the hickey that had formed on your inner thigh.

'And?' Seonghwa dropped your ankle off his shoulder, using your hips as support as he crawled up your body.

'I'm not allowed to do that' You responded meekly, feeling Seonghwa's cold fingers pull your t-shirt up around your collarbones.

'And why is that?' Seonghwa's voice was curt and authoritative, his gaze focused on your exposed chest.

'Because-AHH!' You cried out in surprise as Seonghwa's teeth bit into the skin right next to your nipple 'B-because it's Mommy's'

See the full post

307 notes - Posted November 24, 2022

#4

Why Seonghwa is Secretly A Fuckboi- Pt.3

I jus-I can't.

That's muscle memory right there.

Look at the smirk in his eyes.

He totally know what he's doing 🔥🔥

308 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

#3

Can I get all the attention of the Stays please?

Lee Know sent a pic on Bubble.

Is this Lee Know or Bang Chan?

Because Lee Know wears that Apple Watch.

But the outfit is very Bang Chan-esque.

And they both have similar body types.

I'm sure there's someone on here who has a better eye than me & is able to figure it out.

316 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

#2

Man got me drooling and frothing on a fucking train right now

It's anything he wants

ITS ANYTHING HE WANTS

The fuck he knows how to play up the female gaze with the hand placement.

He knows what women find sexy.

My sunnies are getting steamy oml.

Bang chan, please.

I don't what you want but I'll give it to you.

325 notes - Posted October 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Mommytober Series 2022- Day 22

Sugar!Daddy w Kim Hongjoong (Ateez)

Dom!Hongjoong x Sub!Fem Reader

Content includes: aged up Hongjoong (he's 35), corruption kink (duh it's fucking Hongjoong), praise, virgin!reader, first time, body worship, clingy and needy sex, tattooed Hongjoong (it should be a warning in itself because I am expecting Hongjoong to be covered in tattoos when he's 35 and I will be thoroughly disappointed if he doesn't.)

This is probably the most vanilla fic thus far in the series and I won't even apologise for it because I cried while writing it.

Why you may ask? Because Hongjoong is the most clingy, needy, romantic and loving partner out of Ateez and he would actually be like this and I'm now in a glass case full of emotion.

Also, this fic includes possessiveness (DUH! It's fucking Hongjoong) and hand-holding.

This is pure filth and does not portray an accurate representation of the stated Kpop idol.

18+ Only.

Requested By: @hongthoven

You didn't expect to still be a virgin at 24.

It's not like you were waiting for marriage or wore your virginity with pride.

There just simply hadn't been anyone that had entered your life that you wanted to share the experience with.

You either had bad luck, bad timing, no game or all three.

'My baby, don't be shy. You have a beautiful body okay?' Hongjoong cooed at you, the slight crow's feet around his eyes adding warmth to his gaze, his hands slowly pulling the bra strap from your shoulders.

That was until Hongjoong unexpectedly entered your life.

'Mmm, you make the most beautiful sounds' he groaned out, voice muffled as his tongue flicked around the tip of your nipple and his fingers gently tweaking the other one.

He was 35 and unbelievably gorgeous with crow's feet peeking around the edges of his eyes and a few random grey streaks shining through his black hair.

'I can't believe I'm the only one who's seen you like this' Hongjoong threw your panties on the floor, hands rubbing gently up the sides of your thighs, tracing kisses on your hips as he settled his face in between your thighs.

'And now. I'll be the only fucking one'.

Hongjoong wasn't married and he didn't have any children, instead opting to choose a career-based lifestyle.

You were both so different.

But yet it always felt so fucking right.

Hongjoong nuzzled his face into the side of your thigh, feeling your thighs shake from the multiple orgasms he had just given you with his tongue and fingers alone.

Your chest heaving up and down, nipples hard, bitten lips and cunt dripping wet.

Why would he chase the world for more gold when the best treasure in his life was you?

Hongjoong stood up from the edge of the bed, discarding the clothes off his body as he watched you gain composure.

He was just about to pull down his briefs when he saw you sit up, 'Wait' you told him as you swung your legs so you were sitting at the edge of the bed.

'I want to see you' you outstretched a hand for him to come closer and he walked forward and stood between your legs, breathing against his stomach.

See the full post

335 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[apocalypticgargoyle]

so, SO, Hear me out. This has been stuck in my head for DAYS. Can i request a Sapnap x reader smut, BUT Incubus!Sapnap. My brain is mush. Perhaps reader doesn't believe in demons etc, so they're trying to prove to themselves that these things indeed don't exist by trying to summon a demon, what type of demon? they don't know. Unfortunately(fortunately) for them, the ritual works and Sapnap is summoned. Afab reader with any pronouns, and Dom or switch Sapnap.

i literally love this idea sm. thank you for trusting me with it. [thank you to a friend of mine who helped me w some of the plot elements.] I hope you enjoy and happy reading! xx

𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (18+)

pairing: incubus!sapnap x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (minors dni), mentions of an Ouija board, blood, oral (fm. receiving), smut, domination, choking

Your fishnets clung to your legs, yet provided little protection against the nipping breeze dragging icy fingers across your skin. You rubbed the arms of your jacket, attempting to generate more warmth as your breath fogged around you. Your friends giggled and kicked at each other, hanging around their shoulders and acting drunker than they actually were. It felt like icicles picked your heart each time you faintly felt like you were enjoying yourself, all because of Him.

His words echoed in your head each time a man approached you, finding yourself nearly too suspicious to believe they wouldn’t end up like He did: cold, distant, and arrogant.

The club had been too loud, in your opinion, but you’d be damned to let one of your friends know. They were focused on finding you a squeeze to preoccupy you while you got over Him. You didn’t need a distraction, you just needed to get rid of the thought of him.

One of your friends grabbed your arm, dragging you down a portion of concrete steps and into a lower-level shop. You briefly caught sight of the neon sign above the door, LOCAL PSYCHIC blinking in bright pink piping to welcome in tourists. You scoffed to yourself as you shrugged through the beaded curtain over the door.

The shop smelled of incense and a potpourri of unfamiliar herbs. A slender woman with long black hair looked up from a magazine, gold eyeliner sparkling in the dim lighting of the store. She watched the group of you carefully as your friends went straight for the Ouija boards in the corner. As you looked over her various shelves of exotic species of crystals, you could feel her eyes burning into your shoulder.

You sighed quietly, grabbing a green hued crystal and approaching her in lieu of your group. “So, this will get rid of my bad juju if I stick it in my bra, right?” You quipped jokingly, making her smuggly grin.

She straightened up, revealing a metal band t-shirt that you couldn’t pronounce the name of, let alone knew. “Gorgeous, you’ll need a fist full of moldavite to cleanse what you’ve got going on,” she jested, voice raspy and surveying. “Give me your hand,” she stated, more than asked. You reluctantly reached for her, her boney ringers cupped your hand, rings catching the candle light beside the cash register.

“Does it say I’ll disappear mysteriously after a boating accident?” You leered, making her bite her lip.

You could practically feel her breath on your skin. She studied your palm closely, wetting her lips. “I think I have something better than moldavite, though,” she quirked before digging her nail into the center, making you hiss. She drew a bit of blood from the wound, placing a business card against the spot. The center of the card oozed the crimson color seeping from the cut. “Call this number when you get home and all your bad juju will clear, my love. Him included,” she whispered. “You don’t believe in demons do you?”

“Of course not,” you answered, your eyes locked on hers as she smiled darkly at you, almost forebodingly. You flipped the card in your hand, a number plastered on one side and “REVERSE YOUR REGRETS,” printed boldly on the other. Your eyebrow perked at her. “What, is this a demon calling card?” You quizzed almost sarcastically.

Her dark, full lips twisted up. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

Your mouth ran dry as she smirked, fingers brushing against your own as your hand slipped from hers. You found it hard to speak on the bus ride home, or even form sentences while you were crammed between two of your friends as they all sparked chatter about their upcoming finals. One of the main reasons they bought the Ouija board was to ask a ghost to write their history and philosophy theses.

Your apartment was dark and alluringly quiet compared to the night of bright lights and ridiculous EDM you had endured for most of the night. You let your jacket slip to the floor as you switched on a lamp, washing your hands as your mind relayed what the woman from the shop had said. As you dried your hands, your eyes traveled towards the living room, the dark fabric of one of His hoodies peeking out from between the couch and the wall. You bit your tongue, anger flashing into your veins. “Even Him…” you thought, remembering what she had told you.

You grabbed your phone, slinking over to where your jacket was and fishing the card from your pocket. The red smudge of blood almost perfectly split the phone number in half. “You don’t believe in demons do you?”

“No, what kind of respectable adult believes in demons,” you grumbled to yourself, dialing the number. You turned the card over again, eyeing the words as you waited for the call to connect. Instead of ringing normally, three long dial tones sounded over your receiver, sending a shiver down your spine. Dogs of your apartment complex began to bark, sending feral noises of discomfort into the air.

An automated voice began to speak, startling you slightly. “Thank you for your call. Your sacrifice is pure and has been accepted. Congratulations.”

Sacrifice? The line went dead, your power fizzling out as well. You froze, your feet feeling as if your shoes were filled with cement. In an instant, your array of candles sparked to life, brightening the room. Your heart thundered in your chest, unsure of what was happening. Sacrifice?

You held your breath, waiting for what was to come. It seemed as if your apartment had been removed from the city outside, instead an eerie silence settled in the room, making it almost suffocating to be alone.

“Hello, dove,” a dark voice called from behind you, making you jump a foot in the air, chest wheezing from the jump scare. A man smirked at you, resting his chin in his hand as he looked at you. He dominated one of your chairs, his other hand drumming his fingers against the leather. His suit was well tailored, but he wore it rather lazily with his crisp white shirt unbuttoned. He wore dark nail polish, making his fingers appear longer.

His eyes trailed your body, pressing his lips together as you realized how tightly you were clutching your phone and the card. “How did you get in here?” You asked, your voice barely audible.

He stood, straightening the sleeves of his suit jacket. He walked over to you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Your breath was measured, your body drawn to him as if you were an animal in heat. “You summoned me, puppy,” he answered, voice dipping an octave before dragging the card from your fingers. Your skin burned and sparked at his touch. His smell was intoxicatingly enticing, making your mouth water.

He held the card between two fingers, his eyes locking to yours indefinitely. “You even bound yourself to me,” he noted, letting his finger pad draw across the blood stain on the card. “Little minx,” he mumbled.

You swallowed. “What are you?” You managed, words uneven and almost jumbled.

He turned slightly on his heel, circling around you slowly, fingers dragging against the fabric of your shirt before snaking around the back of your throat. His thumb teased against your skin almost as if he was restraining himself from ripping you in half. “They call me Sapnap. Some might categorize me as a demon, but that seems rather exaggerated, don’t you think?” He responded. “I’m here to help you reverse your regrets.”

You inhaled sharply. “What does that mean?”

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Baby, I’m here to make you feel good again,” he divulged, the heat of his breath skimming against your neck, urging you to submit to him. "I'm here to make you forget all about Him."

In an instant you found yourself pinned beneath him, the sheets on your bed cast aside along with most of your clothes. He watched you sternly as he slipped his jacket off his shoulders, unbuttoning his collared shirt, pupils blown with lust at your hungry appearance.

Sapnap ground his hips against yours, tugging on your thighs to bring you closer to him. Your back arched slightly, fingers digging into the sheets as his lips traveled from your neck to your chest, one of his large hands palming your breast. You stifled a moan, hips bucking against him. He pressed his tongue against your navel, licking a strip against your skin before he was in your ear again. His fingers curled around your waistband. "Uh uh, dove. I wanna hear you."

He leaned back on his knees, teeth nipping at the inside of your thighs as he trailed towards your core. His eyes danced up to yours, briefly gauging your reaction before slipping his finger between the skin of your hips and your lacy undergarments, tugging them down your legs. He pressed open mouth kisses to your thighs once more, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh with a restraint you had half a mind to egg on.

He hooked his arms around your thighs, burying his face where you needed him the most. Your body reacted to the pleasure of his tongue almost instantly, fighting to clamp your legs around his head as your toes curled. Sapnap was taking his time with you, eating you out as if you were his last meal, humming slightly to send vibrations against your nerve endings.

You threaded your fingers through his dark hair, rolling your hips against his mouth and muttering his name. He moved, teeth sinking into your thigh as he pressed his finger into you, making you moan incoherently. You tugged at his hair, earning a groan in pleasure as you noticed him grinding against the mattress. His lips were back on your heat as his finger curled inside of you.

He added another finger, finding your sweet spot almost as if your body had been made for him specifically. With each swirl of his tongue and his moans at the sight of you enjoying the chase of your orgasm, the more the tension began to build within you. He quickened his pace as he watched you pant, coaxing you closer to the edge.

Sapnap moved his head from side to side, flattening his tongue for more friction, pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Cum for me, baby," he commanded, breath hot against your core. You relinquished control of your body, letting your climax rip through your body, leaving you breathless and stunned.

He wore the devil's smile as kissed the inside of your knee, praising you heavily for heeding to his demands. "Good girl," he cooed, voice dark and drawn with lust as he moved to press his lips against your shoulder. "Such a good girl."

His lips traveled beneath your ear, nipping at the skin before pressing his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands holding your chin.

He discarded his pants, spitting in his hand and stroking himself a few times as his eyes burned into yours. He dragged you towards him, gripping onto your hips before driving himself into you. You groaned at the pressure, grinding against his hips and earning a smirk from him. "So needy. Have I not been good to you thus far?" His words dripped with a god complex you had yet to taste.

You whimpered slightly before he rolled his hips against yours. He retracted himself before slowly thrusting into you, watching with pride as you writhed for more of him. "I could kill you, you know?" He stated, thrusting into you harshly, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of your head.

You chuckled breathlessly, your fingers wrapping around one of his wrists. "You won't," you moaned as he set a pace, digging his hips into yours.

Sapnap's other arm moved, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing slightly, as if showing you he could do worse. "Says who?" He provoked, pressing his lips against yours, teeth dragging against your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from deep in your throat.

His thrusts were becoming sloppier, deeper as he buried himself into you. "Me," you answered. He grinned deviously, pinning your knee to your chest and pounding into you, basking in your moans like they were personalized ego boasts. "I can take it," you groaned quietly, enticing him. He tightened his hold on your neck, causing your vision to blur in pleasure as heat rushed through your body, his roughness a perfect catalyst to your cardinal hunger.

"That's right, sweetheart," he grunted, eyes seeming to burn brighter with your submission. "Take it," he mirrored, his pace relentless against you as if testing your limits. He pressed his thumb in your mouth, moaning as your teeth rested against it, tongue darting out against it. You focused on his eyes, trying not to roll your own as your body ached to climax.

You could see the veins in his neck becoming more prominent and he removed his thumb only to grip your jaw in his hand, shoving his tongue into your mouth to lap at your whimpers. His hands moved to pin your forearms to the mattress beside you, his lips melding against yours as the two of you pushed each other to orgasms. You could feel his pleasure coming undone within you, finally acting as the jumping-off point for your second climax.

You panted, hurriedly attempting to catch your breath as he pulled out of you, sighing in pleasure.

He moved to begin dressing, holding your card between his teeth as he buckled his belt around his waist. Your mind blurred in bliss, still riding your high. It didn't really bother you if he left or stayed.

He finished buttoning his shirt as you sat up on your elbows, watching him straighten his appearance. "I'll call on you soon," he stated, tucking the card with your blood on it into his breast pocket.

You quipped an eyebrow at him. "This is a normal thing now?" You questioned, the situation seeming different.

He patted his pocket to gesture to the card. "You're mine, dove. I get you whenever I want," he smirked. He rested his knee on the edge of your bed, leaning down to press his lips against yours possessively.

[dilucids]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLove Letters, Genshin Impact

their reactions to you receiving love letters.

includes: diluc, venti, ningguang and beidou

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 DILUC RAGNVINDR ━━ DARKNIGHT HERO 〕

━━ the first one wouldn't bother him at all, he'll simply look over your shoulder, ask you what it was and shrug it off, having trust in your relationship.

━━ if the writer persists, he'll get a little iffy with it and will read it over your shoulder as you do as well.

━━ he'll let the words of this secret admirer sink into his brain, disgusting words that were sickeningly sweet and he swears that it doesn't bother him.

━━ but it does, the way that someone else is also admiring all your traits, or has a note on all your little habits that may not be cute in the eyes of others but is absolutely endearing to him ( and this new person apparently ).

━━ and then he wonders if you're into this type of romantic thing, things that he can't indulge in for you, like sweet letters for you to wake up to every morning that write about you like a passage from 'romeo and juilet', talking about how your beauty makes him undone.

━━ he swears it still doesn't bother him at all when more and more letters come in and kaeya delivers them from the headquarters with that knowing look on his face.

━━ but he gets a little more attentive; he'll watch you do the most boringest of things, he'll use a softer tone when reading to you before bed, he'll give into your scoldings sooner than the usual, he'll make his kisses sweeter and last a little longer, he'll even let you play with his hair and tangle flowers in it; anything to make sure you know that he loves you and all your little quirks just as much as that secret admirer.

"You okay?" You crane your neck back to ask Diluc, who currently had a hold of your waist, pushing his face into the crook of neck. He hums, his paperwork left all over his desk with fresh ink washed over the page, in little underlines, arrows and smaller notes by the side. He had just finished another stack of the seemingly never-ending paperwork, finding little rest with you in his arms.

A knock destroys your delicate mood and you can tell Diluc isn't in the mood to answer to anyone's knock, Kaeya's in particular, judging by the knocking pattern. "You can come in, Kaeya," you call out.

He comes in with the regular pink envelope, "your secret admirer is so dedicated to you," he teases and his eye picks up on the way that Diluc slightly tightens his arms around your waist so he grins. "Don't tease, Kaeya," you warn albeit rather insincerely, as you pick up the envelope placed upon the desk.

"Are you leaving?" You raise an eyebrow, pausing the action of opening the envelope when Kaeya makes no move to leave. He shrugs, finding that the very small rise that he got out of Diluc should be enough until he sees him again and leaves the two of you in silence, closing the door behind him.

Opening the letter, you feel Diluc remove his face from your neck, placing his chin on your shoulder as you open another letter. "What day is it now?" He asks with distaste, seeing the same slanted, upright handwriting on the piece of paper.

"Now, now. It's rather amusing."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 VENTI ━━ WINDBORNE BARD 〕

━━ wouldn't bother him, at all.

━━ the first letter would come and he'll find the contents kinda amusing since this person is kinda trash at poems ( i guess when you're venti, any poem compared to yours would be ).

━━ would find it very funny ( would pocket the letter so he could show and do a dramatic reading of it to dvalin later ).

━━ unlike diluc however, he'd jokingly use it to get more affection from you.

━━ so everytime he saw you skimming through the letter uninterested, he'd pout a little, impatiently tap his foot and let out a quiet huff ( maybe even make the wind pick up a little ); anything to make you think that he was jealous so that you'd redirect his attention onto him.

━━ does things like point out grammatical mistakes or rephrases their sentences into a better flowing sentence whilst reading over your shoulder with a jealoused look on his face.

━━ it works, obviously. you end up ditching the letter, always leaving them half read to tend to venti. he denies when you make the claim but has it written all over his face as you remind him that you're all his.

━━ basically, venti malewife, mansplain, manipulate.

Venti peers over your shoulder, leaning on your arm with a small yet obvious pout on his face. You try to ignore his expression as you read the letter, though it becomes harder when he begins to read out passages of the letter, cheesy passages when you were compared to an angel from heaven that was sent down to enlighten the earth, in a high-pitched, mocking voice.

You'd laugh it off, finally peering at Venti's jealous ruse and ditch the letter. "Is my little Archon jealous?" You'd tease him, taking ahold of his cheek to redirect his gaze onto you, you think you're the one in control right now but oh, he's literally had this planned since you've seen your name on the envelope in swirly handwriting and a heart right next to it. Surprisingly, music isn't the only performing arts Venti is good at as he huffs, pushing out his lower lip and never looking you in the eyes.

"I'd never leave you for someone who doesn't know how to spell 'gorgeous', my dear," you wrap your arm around his waist as he was sat on the armrest of your chair and he does nothing but sink into your arms, sliding into your lap so you were carrying him like a baby, his legs thrown over the other armrest and head pressed against you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 NINGGUANG ━━ ECLIPSING STAR 〕

━━ would see it as a challenge. like venti, would be slightly amused when she sees it.

━━ like, someone really thinks they can challenge her for you? L, that person's gonna have a lot on their plate by the end of it.

━━ would take immediate action after the first letter, even if you asked her not to, she'd do it behind your back.

━━ she literally has a floating mansion, i don't think anyone is in the position to challenge or stop her.

━━ would organise a "meeting" with said admirer to establish a few rules and consequences that would be enforced if any of those rules were to be broken.

━━ letters stopped right after the first one.

"This letter is for you," she trails off, handing you a letter that was pink and decorated in little hearts in all different colours. You quirk an eyebrow, planting yourself on her desk as Ningguang watches curiously as you tear open the envelope and unfold the contents. Your eyes scan the letter, injesting the words with a straight face, eyebrows furrowing.

"Is there something wrong?" You hum, turning the letter around to be met with a blank side and check the envelope for the sender again. "Just," you pause, unsure how to start, "do you know who sent this?"

She stares at you with a raised eyebrow, "no, it was placed on my desk when I arrived," taking the letter out of your hand, she scanned the contents. Her lips quirk and eyebrows move in amusement as she brings up her hand to cover her laugh.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 BEIDOU ━━ UNCROWNED QUEEN OF THE OCEAN 〕

━━ would be happy for you.

━━ don't know how but she would somehow be happy for you.

━━ since beidou is used to getting praise from younger members of youth, when she finds you reading a letter of praise, she'll also feel happy for you since you're always reading over her shoulder when she gets one with a pout. ( she thinks you're jealous of her???? )

━━ would literally pat you on the back and say well done with a hearty laugh.

━━ she'd ask to read it and everything, and would find pride in herself that other people could see all the things that she saw in you, like how your imperfections meant nothing, how your habits were the cutest thing ever.

━━ not a single jealous bone in her body when she sees it which is kinda endearing in her own way??

"What 'ave you got there?" Beidou's natural booming voice causes you to jump slightly, making you turn around and hide the letter behind your back as you scratch your cheek, you probably shouldn't show her a love letter from someone else.

"Just a letter," you wave off with a laugh but she's already behind you, with the letter in her hand and eyeing it's contents. You watch nervously as she reads your letter, scared of her reaction but she smiles━━ a full toothy grin where her amazingly white teeth are all on display.

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Hiddleston - Stripped Sunday

A/N & WC - I came up with this concept ages ago and only just got around to writing it, though it’s slightly short. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to. 2k.

Warnings - Swearing (that's now just a given), definitely suggestive and nsfw but nowhere near explicit, just mentions of sex, nudity too. And unknowing exhibitionism I guess? 16+

Summary - Sunday's are always the best, especially when you and Tom walk around the house nude, but it's been a while. Too long a while. So, obliviously, you take matters into your own hands...

THOMAS WILLIAM HIDDLESTON IS A SIMPLE MAN, believe it or not. He likes meals he can cook in fifteen minutes, he likes his tea with only a splash of milk, he likes the simple pleasures of nature. He likes morning runs and evening walks, re-watching movies he’s seen a dozen times, cuddles on a cold night. But most of all, he likes it when you walk around nude.

It might just be the one singular thing in the great mystery of life that is inexplicable to him, the one thing he enjoys so bloody much he daren’t speak of it, lest he risk losing it. Just the sight of your beautiful body keeps him up night after night after night when he’s working away, plotting and planning ways to ensure he never forgets it for the second he returns home. He can’t even begin to explain the things it does to him.

So, he set up a Stripped Sunday, with the basic premise that you both have to walk around in your birthday suits all day. It’s essentially his unique, perverse, inventive way of seeing you naked all day once a week. Not every Sunday, naturally, but just on occasion, when he’s not working, he’ll jot it down on the calendar. Nothing too glaring, in case someone catches a glimpse of his calendar, but just scribbling down a winky face in a Sunday space, and you know what you’re in for.

In all honesty, you love it just as much as he does. It’s hard not to. Seeing him walking around the house with not a scrap of clothing on all day does things to you you’ve never been able to put your finger on—or his. If you were to get pregnant, Stripped Sundays would be the culprit with the amount that the two of you shag in a single day. And he always seems to have another round in the bank to wake you the morning after, hungover on dripping lust.

However, it’s been far too long without one of these days, you think to yourself. And you know that there are no plans for the day, seeing as there’s nothing in the diary or the calendar, where—upon Tom’s own decree—all arrangements have to be written down. Seeing as you and Tom have a somewhat secret relationship, one certainly sheltered from the press, and no one knows you’re together, let alone live together, keeping all plans written down is imperative. His work meetings are always good reasons for you to get out of the house for a few hours.

Today, however, Tom seems to have made a mistake. Today’s meeting utterly slipped his mind, and he completely forgot to tell you, let alone jot it down, that he was having a casual meeting with a few co-stars to discuss future production of some sort—of what, he was entirely unsure, since this was texted about weeks ago, now. Nothing too major, though.

Logically, Tom thought that, with how late you were currently sleeping, and how much you enjoy your lie-ins, he’d be wrapped before you woke up, and even if that wasn’t to be the case and you wake up, that you’d have the sense to dress, or even call for him at the very least, before going downstairs.

You aren’t so lucky.

—

Waking up to an empty bed is never much fun. Usually if Tom wakes up before you, he’ll only slip out to put the kettle on, or fetch a new book to read from the library while he waits for you to stir naturally… that is if he isn’t waking you up in other, more pleasurable ways. At most, if he does have plans and doesn’t want to wake you after a late night, he’ll leave you a lovely note, a voicemail, and a thermal mug of tea.

Today, however, you can smell the coffee machine on—no wonder after the late, and rather energetic night you had—and hear the machine whirring, signalling that Tom likely hasn’t long been awake. That’s when the gears begin to turn and your plan begins to formulate, a completely devious idea that creeps into your mind and quirks your lips into a smirk. No matter how enticing the idea to nuzzle back into the pillows is, your need for Tom is overpowering your clawing need for sleep, especially with your primal instincts telling you he’s within grabbing distance, his aftershave still on the sheets you’re wrapped in. So, you strip his shirt, now perpetually appropriated by you, off and get out of bed, stretching as you go, beginning to make your way downstairs.

“What’s that?” Tom hears someone ask.

Not hearing your footsteps on the squeaky stairs over the whirring of the coffee machine and the layered discussions, including his own laughter, he simply replies, “Probably the dog.”

You, however, aren’t lucky enough to hear this brief conversation before your bare feet land on the cold hardwood floor, sending chills throughout you that don’t seem to even mildly combat the overwhelming heat building all throughout you. With just a few more steps, keeping your footing light and avoiding Bobby’s various chewies and toys littered all over the floor, you’re entering the kitchen in nought but your birthday suit. Utterly, completely in the buff.

“Morning baby,” you call out, yawning, your eyes fluttering shut, your jaw wide.

Except, instead of the warm embrace and slatherings of kisses that you expect to receive, or even a simple “Good morning, Princess,” you’re welcomed with a deadly silence, a stillness you can’t quite comprehend.

Your eyes fly open in shock, opening to see three people, mildly familiar faces, with mouths agape and eyes wide, sitting around the breakfast bar with mugs between their hands. Tom looks as stunned as you’ve ever seen him, over by the coffee machine, his hands trembling. With a fixed gaze of his baby blue eyes, so piercingly alarmed, he looks you up and down, his eyes blazing over your nude form, his kissable mouth practically watering at the mere sight of you.

That’s before it clicks with him, the dire situation, and alarm bells begin to blare inside his head, causing him to jump into action. Almost instantly, he’s pulling his shirt off his strong arms and muscular torso with lithe fingers, and is tugging it over your head, covering your naked torso.

You can already feel the blush on your cheeks, your skin burning from the bruised base of your throat to the pierced tips of your ears, the blood in your veins rushing around so violently that it drowns out any other comments or noise within the room, within the situation, but you’re brought back to reality when Tom’s strong, callused hands fall to your arms, clasping the flesh before he’s all but lifting you off the tiled floor and steering you back out of the room. It snicks shut behind you, but all you can focus on is the kiss he gives you, slanting his thin lips over yours so intoxicatingly that you’re able to forget your humongous disaster, if only for a second. There’s an emptiness the second he stops kissing you, and you’re able to hear the previously shut out gossip from inside.

“Sweetheart, what the hell was that?” he commands, his tone soft.

Despite the austere authority he so naturally demands in a room, he doesn’t sound angry whatsoever. If anything he’s just a little exposed, his private home life revealed to people when he wasn’t in the least bit prepared for once in his lifetime, with a definite undertone of irritation, mostly that he can’t have his way with you instantly. His blood is roaring, his stomach an explosion of swarms of butterflies, his core pulsating. He can’t tear his eyes away from you, even now you’re covered, your hardened nipples poking through the fabric.

“I— I saw the calendar was empty, I wanted to impress you, have a nice Sunday because it’s been so long,” you confess, shuffling your feet on the floor, unable to meet his blue gaze boring into you, “I’ve felt… distant from you recently, you’ve been working so much. I don’t know,” you shift anxiously, tugging on his shirt wrapped around you, “I love you, I didn’t wanna lose you. I thought you’d like it.”

“Baby,” he says, “I love you and this so so much. Of course I like it!”

You let out a feeble cry against his chest, his arms knotting around you and tugging you into his chest in one swift movement. His hugs, the way he holds you and cradles you, always make you feel better, no matter what your troubles may be.

You sniffle a little, “Really?”

Any trace of hardness in his face just dissipates and is replaced with sympathy, empathy, love.

“I truly wish I could take you right now, Darling, and if they weren’t here, I’d be fucking you on that breakfast bar and you know it.” He sighs deeply. “But, I didn’t put down a special Sunday for a reason, love.” Leaning down, he kisses away your wry tears, and then the tip of your nose. “You are so thoughtful. It’s all my fault though, I must’ve just forgotten to write this down.”

How can you be mad at him when he’s being so thoughtful and heartfelt, confessing his mistake even when it was your rash thinking that’s gotten you into this mess?

Once you calm your breathing down, though, you realise that you’re actually not particularly phased by this at all. You don’t mind this; it was the sheer shock that passed over Tom’s face, the flash of terror he must’ve felt with his work colleagues in the room with him that scared you so. You know well enough that it’ll be a huge knock—monumental, even—for him, if this gets out. Your worry for your treasured boyfriend takes power over any of your own misgivings.

“I’m really sorry, Tom.”

“Don’t be,” he says hastily, “can you please pop up and get dressed, though, darling? Just some shorts, I don’t want you to feel exposed.”

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding, stepping away from him to make your way upstairs. Before you’ve taken so much as a step, though, he tugs you back by the bottom of his shirt, and ravels you into a searing kiss, everything he wants to say passes from his lips to yours.

—

You return a couple of minutes later, dressed simply, comfortably, his shirt in your hands, you find him waiting for you, standing outside the door with his hands clasped at his front. He greets you with open arms, prompting you to take his hands as he leads you back into the kitchen, your eyes connecting in a secret agreement before stepping inside.

The air is rife with anxiety, three panicked faces staring back at you, but thankfully, you’re able to recognise these people as ones he’s worked with for a while, people he knows really well; confidantes and friends more than co-stars or colleagues. However, by the inquisitive glint in their eyes and their parted mouths, you imagine they’ll still have a lot of questions, and this’ll still be a hit for Tom.

He wraps his spare arm around you, his head bowed as he meets the dead faces staring at him. That’s when you begin to wonder if something else has happened.

“Baby, everything okay?” you ask, cupping his jaw, caressing your thumb over the scruff of a beard shadowing his bone structure.

That’s seemingly when it hits him, his face paling, blanching, his grip around you loosening.

“It’s a good job you never got over the threshold, darling,” he says breathlessly, “or I’d be in much more trouble.”

You look to him, eyes searching his face imploringly as he viciously gulps. “We were live on Instagram.”

“SHIT!”

Well, it looks like Tom’s girlfriend is public knowledge. You can’t mind, though not as he dips his head and kisses you hotly, heartily. With this passion, the second these people leave, Stripped Sunday might just happen after all.

[yelenasdog]

rebel girl (vic de angelis x fem!singer!reader)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 REBEL GIRL  𝐁𝐘 BIKINI KILL

(listen while reading for best experience) 

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff with a sprinkle of angst for .0000002 seconds

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a kiss during a shared performance turns into something more.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, kissing, drinking, my attempts at writing roman dialect and italian, and i believe that’s it.

𝐚/𝐧: ok so i know not a whole lot abt måneskin so if anything abt this in terms of the band or how they perform is inaccurate forgive me! but i think vic is hot and this song makes me think of her LOL. thanks for reading, and enjoy the fic!! <3

(all translations will be linked at the end of the fic)

♀~♀~♀

The cheers of the crowd were deafening, but it seemed the beating of her own heart was even louder. Lights flashed a plethora of neon colors, and those on the stage looked liked silhouettes moving about freely.

Ethan nodded at Thomas, quickly bringing down his stick to the tightly spread plastic.

Thomas bobbed his head, starting to play the opening riff.

Select members of those in attendance began to cheer, just the opening notes being enough to give away what was about to be performed.

“For our last song tonight, we’d like to bring out someone you all know and love.” Damiano spoke into his mic, wrapping an arm around Vic’s neck and allowing her to lean down into the microphone in his hand.

“She’s someone that everyone, including myself, heavily admire as an icon of the generation and a true Riot Grrrl.”


Her eyes closed, a deep breath inhaled and exhaled through her painted mouth. She jumped up and down in her heeled boots, face pointed towards the rickety ceiling of the venue as she did so. She ran a ring adorned hand over her earpieces and made a funny face, making sure they were adjusted to her liking.

A stagehand appeared to her right, handing her a microphone and wishing her good luck. She smiled, responding with a quick “thanks” and a smile.

Victoria looked over from her place on the stage with Damiano, a devilish glint in her eye.

“Here for one night only, London let us introduce” he yelled, leaning down to Vic’s level once more, allowing them to both speak at once, “Y/n Y/l/n!”

A roar erupted from everyone in the building as the aforementioned strutted on stage, lifting the mic to her lips.

“That girl thinks she’s the queen of the neighborhood, she’s got the hottest trike in town.” She started, finding her mark in the center of the stage.

“That girl, she holds her head up so high, I think I wanna be her best friend yeah.” Damiano’s raspy voice let out next, both of their voices mixing together like honey as they started the chorus.

“Rebel girl, rebel girl, rebel girl you are the queen of my world.

Rebel girl, rebel girl.”

“I think I wanna take you home” Y/n began, Damiano then taking over.

“I wanna try all your clothes.” He finished, both him and Y/n groaning in unison to the song.

Vic would be lying if she said she didn’t have to clear both her throat, and her mind. Thomas’ fingers worked skillfully and quickly on the neck of his guitar on the small transitional solo, his focus staying on the cool steel.

Damiano held up his tattooed hand, making a talking motion as he sang and rolled his eyes, “When she talks, I hear the revolution.”

Y/n came up behind Vic, one hand running across her hip, the other on her own as she chose to lean into Vic’s mic over her shoulder, “In her hips, there’s revolutions.”

The lead singer then strutted across the stage back to Ethan, propping a leg up on the base of his kit, and then walking back singing, “When she walks, the revolution’s coming.”

Knowing what line was coming up next, the bassist held her breath, and looked down. It was short lived, though, as Y/n picked up her chin with her pointer finger, forcing her to look her in the eyes. She moved his slowly to Victoria, their lips nearly brushing, her touch feather light.

“In…her…kiss…” she slowly sang, dragging it out longer than in the original song and than in rehearsal. She quickly turned her head, falling to her knees with one side to Vic and one to the audience, her hair cascading over her features.

“I taste the revolution!”

She smiled at Vic as she pushed herself up, a goofy grin plastered onto her face as she allowed Damiano to take the chorus. Victoria replied with only a small smirk, her dark eyeshadow glittering under the colorful lights, making her look like some kind of gothic angel, or celestial being.

Resuming singing, Y/n walked back to the front of the stage, her and Damiano switching every verse. She sat down on the edge, letting her legs dangle over the high surface, feeling fingertips barely touch her unclothed thigh.

“That girl thinks she’s the queen of the neighborhood.”

“I got news for you,”

They both pointed their mics into the audience as the screen behind them flashed “she is!” Allowing the crowd, as well as Thomas, Vic, and Ethan to all scream the two words loudly and in sync.

“I know she is,” her and Dami both sang, as he wrapped an arm around Vic’s neck,

“My best friend yeah”

The chorus continued for a final time, Victoria stomping her heavy platforms on the wooden stage, biting her lip as she performed.

Y/n made her way over to Thomas’ side, jumping to his left and swaying her hair, a knowing smile appearing on his face upon seeing Victoria’s gaze falling upon her movements.

Victoria made rounds to Ethan and then to Thomas, passing Y/n and lightly tapping her hip with her own.

Y/n skipped over to Damiano as he did to her, the pair meeting in the middle briefly for the “love you like a sister, always.”

Victoria returned to her spot from the start, and Damiano found his way to Thomas. Y/n continued on towards the ethereal bassist. The both of them were simultaneously singing to the aforementioned in harmony, nearing the end of the song.

“Soul sister, rebel girl,

Come and be my best friend,

Really, rebel girl.”

Y/n dragged a hand across Vic’s chiseled cheekbone, and in that moment Victoria had taken on the title of a muse for the woman standing in front of her.

“I really like you” she sang to her, lowering her mic as they looked into each other’s eyes, her chest heaving. It was like the music had been reduced down to a slight buzzing, and the thousands of peering eyes meant nothing. They were untouchable.

Y/n resumed for the last line, never breaking her eye contact.

“Be my rebel girl.”

It seemed like a question, a proposal of sorts from one to another, as Y/n’s hand dropped once more.

Victoria quirked a brow as if to ask “are we really doing this?” To which Y/n muttered “fuck it” with a laugh.

Victoria’s hands found either side of Y/n’s face, her calloused fingers rough, yet gentle. Y/n’s own hands found one lazily draped over waist, the other over her shoulder to pull her close.

And in what probably the entirety of the building could have guessed would happen (maybe just not on stage, in that exact moment) they closed the gap between themselves, their lips connecting in a sweet kiss.

Chants and yells of encouragement were whooped by the band and crowd alike, as Damiano raised the mic and the final notes played.

“Y/n Y/l/n everybody!”

They pulled apart, sweaty foreheads against each other’s sides as they turned towards everyone, waving. They were quickly joined by the rest of the group, and Y/n stepped away, leaning into the microphone still hooked on the stand in the center of the stage.

“Let’s hear a huge round of applause for the wonderfully mad Måneskin!” She shouted, the roar of the crowd even louder. She raised her hands in the air, then moving one to her ear, gesturing for them to be louder. They complied, and Y/n took out her earpiece for a moment, soaking in what the band had created.

Vic shouted to Y/n over the noise, waving her over.

“Come on, bow with us!”

Y/n shook her head, not wanting to intrude any further to which Thomas reached out an arm, pulling her over. A bright smile covered her face as Vic reached out, wrapping an arm around her waist only for a second.

Hands joined, they all leaned forward in a dramatic bow, coming back up and waving.

All in sync, they all yelled “thank you, London!”

They looked around for a small period of time afterwards, still having a hard time believing that this was their new reality.

Looking to her right, and seeing Y/n doing the same, Vic decided that Y/n was a specific part of said “new reality” she didn’t quite want to let go of.

So after saying one more goodbye and exiting the stage, the bassist remained silent. It slightly worried Y/n, who had noticed the girl’s lack of communication while she had been thanking the rest of the band members for allowing her to share the stage with them.

“Is Victoria alright?” She asked Damiano, to which he only chuckled before replying.

“She’s fine, trust me. Give her a little bit of time and she will be back to normal.”

Y/n just gave him a tight lipped smile, not completely convinced.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed as Victoria slipped into her dressing room, locking the door.

The rest of the group, already having had a few drinks, was out the door, waiting on a cab.

“Y/n? You and Vic coming?” Ethan questioned.

She nodded, though she was unsure if that was the case, doing her best to cast a reassuring smile in his direction.

Once she made sure they were gone, she knocked twice on the heavy door. Before she could even announce it was her, Vic’s voice rang out.

“Vattene, Damiano!”

“Victoria?” Y/n’s tone floated through the door to the other side, and Victoria face palmed and silently cursed herself. She quickly got up and unlocked the door, regretting her harsh tone.

“Y/n, hi.”

“Hi.” She responded, slight uneasiness about her. Victoria picked up on this immediately, her brows furrowing and her eyes softening.

“Are you alright, Y/n?”

The other girl scoffed and looked at her feet. Scared to break any boundaries now that they weren’t on stage, Victoria cautiously lifted a hand towards her chin, softly picking it up like Y/n had before.

Her voice sounded wavy as she spoke, her jaw slightly hanging slack.

“Actually, I came here to ask the same thing.”

Victoria tilted her head like a confused puppy, leaning up against the doorframe.

“Why? What happened?”

Struggling to find the right thing to say, Y/n began to trip over her words.

“Well, I just, you know, on stage and everything- we were super, y’a know, close and everything and I didn’t wanna, I don’t know. Make you uncomfortable or overstep any boundaries or anything, and if it was just a kiss I didn’t wanna overthink it or read into but, I mean, I really liked it but you seemed to go quiet so-“

Victoria cut off her painful rambling with another kiss, taking firm hold of her arms and moving her inside with her and closing the door with her foot.

“Wow.” Y/n said when they finally pulled apart, her eyes as wide as dinner plates and her pupils the size of the moon.

“Yes, wow.” Vic chuckled, moving a piece of Y/n’s stray hair behind her ear.

“You’re very different when you’re on stage, Y/n. You know that?” She asked, admiring how the fluorescent lights above illuminated Y/n’s features in the most wonderful way.

Victoria had decided she liked her most like this. Vulnerable, sweaty, and with the biggest heart eyes she’d ever seen.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” She laughed.

“No.” Vic frowned, taking her hands. “It’s not a bad thing. Not at all.” She brought her over to the velvet sofa in the corner of the room. “It’s admirable.”

“How?” She asked with a small smile.

“Easy. Because even though your stage persona is lovely,” she laughed, “I think I like this Y/n even better. She seems like she’s kind, and has a big heart with lots of love to give.”

Stunned, the other girl just smiled like an idiot, leaning forward and pecking Vic’s lips.

“Well, what about you?”

“What about me?” The bassist replied, enjoying the banter forming between the pair.

“Why’d you go all radio silent? I’d never heard of Victoria De Angelis from EuroVision winning band Måneskin to do such a thing.” She exclaimed in what was the worst accent Victoria had heard in her life.

(Though, it was endearing, she’d admit.)

“Truly? I was thinking about how to ask you out. If you even wanted me to ask you out, all of that.”

Y/n’s eyes somehow got even bigger, and she laughed, tucking her legs beneath her.

“How is that even a question?” She exclaimed.

“Like I said, you are different on stage from off it. I didn’t know if it was just a front, a performance.”

This time it was Y/n’s turn to roll her eyes and lean in, encapsulating Victoria’s lips with her own.

“It wasn’t just a show, I’d love to go out with you, Vic.”

They both giggled like school girls hidden under the bleachers, leaning in for another kiss. It was hot and heavy, yet slow and sweet. It was everything either girl had hoped for. 

And thanks to a certain Italian doofus, or 4, it would be momentarily put on pause. Mid-make out four loud knocks startled the girls, causing the two do them to pull away.

“Victoria! Daje! Perché non rispondi al telefono, eh? Stiamo aspettando- oh. This makes sense.“ Damiano burst through the door, Ethan and Thomas stood behind him with not-so-surprised looks painted on their faces.

“Realmente? Realmente, Damiano?” She scoffed. “Stai manzo!”

“Sorry, guys. Enjoy yourselves.” He turned over his shoulder to the rest, slowly shutting the door.

“Sicuro di dire che non verranno con noi.” He snickered, as did the others.

“Eccallà!” Ethan remarked, to which, not that Vic and Y/n knew, Thomas shoved him to the side.

Victoria sighed, returning to face Y/n.

“So. Where were we?”

♀~♀~♀

i hope yall liked that!! mwah make sure to reblog if u did <333 take care of urself!

translations 

[todoscript]

Love Capsule

anonymous requested: Can I request a Bakugou scenario where the reader and the Bakusquad drag him out on a shopping trip and they see a whole section of vending machines and decide to check them out to see what cute, tasty or weird things they can find and the reader and Bakugou either get lost/ditched or squeezed together in a tight row but they have a good time and maybe the reader got a rare all might mysery figure and Bakugou wants it, so they they he can have it in exchange for a date?

genre: fluff pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader word count: 4.8k+ warnings: bakusquad shenanigans. bakugou cursing. pining.

author’s note: My Bakugou angst fic isn’t done yet but I wrote this request on the side. I wanted to have something to publish after not posting any written work for awhile so I did my best to get this out asap. sorry if it seems rushed! (also reposting this because the post stopped showing up in the tags).

There are only a fair bit of things Bakugou loathes more than wasting his valuable time. And that includes wasting that time by getting dragged into public places he has no desire to be, alongside the four most senseless nitwits the boy has ever had the displeasure of befriending.

It feels less like a friend group to him and more of a gathering of idiots as he watches four out of the six huddle around the aisle of vending machines across the mall. Where’s the other one, you might ask? You’re standing right next to him, sipping a bottle of sweet lemon tea dispensed to you from those vending machines.

“Ooh, look at this one!” The other girl in his squad, styling unruly pink hair, pokes a finger toward a blue machine in particular. What she finds interesting about it is that it’s absent of all buttons except a single one above the coin slot.

“Says here that you only have to pay a hundred yen for a mystery item,” Sero reads the instructions printed boldly across the surface, his grin showing his pearly whites. “Can range from food to even toys and cheap plastic jewelry.”

Popping up behind his taller friend, Kaminari squints incredulously at the sign before his eyes brighten like he’s concocted a conspiracy. “No, dude, I’ve heard of these kinds of vending machines before! They want you to think it’s some ordinary convenience vending machine, but these things actually have some super-secret big prize hidden inside!”

“Uh, no, that’s how you get your money robbed from you, Kaminari,” Kirishima tells the blonde, and yet his warnings end up floating from one ear and flying out the other. Kaminari fishes out a small stash of coins taut in between the lint balls of his pockets.

“Yeah yeah, just wait until you eat those words when I come home with a Playstation 5!”

“Why would there be a Playstation 5 of all things in there?” Ashido asks skeptically. She notes the small slot near the bottom, appearing sizable to dispense a large water bottle at most.

“Okay, maybe not an actual PS5, but probably the voucher you take to the game store to retrieve one, of course!” He waves the doubt away as he kneels and begins his succession of slotting coins in the machine until agitation eventually ebbs his features. About five hundred yen down the drain and all he’s amounted with in exchange are two Gudetama keychains, two packets of off-brand oreo cookies, and one can of that cheap instant black coffee he dislikes. Though if it’s one thing, he and the drink have in common it’s that they’re both positively bitter.

Kirishima, Sero, and Ashido all snicker wryly behind him while he deadpans at the snotty series of prizes with the skin between his eyebrows crinkled in defeat. Ashido takes this as the time to move along the row, dragging her sullen blond friend by the elbow. “Moving on! I want to get to the one with the Yakult drinks already!” She points onward and leads her compadres down the treasure trove of intriguing automated food vendors. Two of the boys press forward enthusiastically. Kaminari has to be lugged out of his brooding in order to play along.

“God, please just take me out already,” Bakugou mutters while leering his signature miffed face behind them. According to the giggle he registers chiming to his left, it seems you heard his complaints.

“Hm, not having a good time, I’m guessing?” you ask. The metallic edge of your lemon tea creases into the cushion that is your plush bottom lip. Bakugou finds himself staring there longer than he should and immediately tears his eyes away before he’s caught.

Your playful tone throws him off a beat later than he should’ve taken to reply. “Of course. I didn’t even want to be here to begin with,” he sneers with a brisk click of his tongue, crossing his arms. In a sense, he’s only telling half of the truth.

It’s true Bakugou did not desire to be here on his own accord. The squad dared to call him at the dead of midnight, when he was already tucked into bed by nine o’clock sharp and indulging in a needed rest, only to be ruefully awoken by his phone blaring across the expanse of his dorm room. The four should’ve suffered an earful from him as they tried to arrange a shopping trip of all things at that hour. However, his disinterest in the subject withered at the bait of your name casted into the conversation. Which to them was hook, line, and sinker. The cunning group of friends reeled him in at the idea that his crush would tag along. So, in the end, they got the rowdy blond to yield to the stupid shopping trip.

Though could it count as a shopping trip when four out of the six in their group were so transfixed by the weird vending machines in the place? The same four that organized said gathering to begin with? They’ve yet to cross into a single store here for crying out loud.

“If all you morons are gonna do is waste your damn money on these things, then this is a complete waste of time.” Bakugou doesn’t sugarcoat his irritation in the slightest. You still try to quell the bitterness in his tone with the saccharine that saturates your own.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, lighten up,” you tease playfully, pinching a small bit of the fabric on his arm to lightly urge him forward.

“You should at least try and join in on the fun with everyone—” At the turn of your head, your sentence cuts off, astonished to come across an empty space where your quartet of friends should be.

“And they’re already gone…” you say in disbelief. Your finger initially pointed in that direction falls limp. With their speedy curiosity plowing down the line of machines, the four have effectively ditched you two, leaving no trace of where they could’ve taken off for next.

The sigh from your lips lingers in amusement. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, Bakugou.”

When your eyes meet him again, you witness the scowl he glares at the abandoned space in front of the vending machine. The leer is menacing enough that if the contraption were an actual person, they might have rattled in fear, dropping down the snacks and drinks contained inside to sate his anger.

“Um, Bakugou?” you attempt to call out to him, but he’s too fixated by the peeved thoughts strewn in his head to hear you properly.

What the fuck are those dunces thinking? They planned this, didn’t they? God, I’m going to fucking kill them all! He babbles a seething torrent in his mind. Each one is more unrelenting and harsher than the last while a vein blisters prominently on his forehead.

What were the odds that going on a little shopping trip would end up with him left behind with his crush? Well, Bakugou thinks it’s absolutely none, and that this shit had to be preordained. If not, then it was just his bad fucking luck he supposes.

“—llo, earth to Bakugou Katsuki? Please send back a reply when you receive this message.”

At last, your voice surfaces, no longer drowned in Bakugou’s turbulent sea of thoughts as the hand you wave in front of him swims its way to his attention. “Huh?” He shakes his head twice to grip himself back to the matter at hand, observing in time the playful smile that curls mischievously on your lips.

“All back together I see. Good.” You start pulling on his arm and lead him in tandem with your steps. “Now let’s get going!”

Though he quirks up an eyebrow, Bakugou, weirdly enough, does not reject the way you drag him along without waiting for his response. In fact, with the other four gone, he finds it compelling that you’re taking the reins and asks mildly, “What? Are we gonna be doing some actual shopping now?”

His joke earns him your laughter resonating in melodic lilts to his ears before you leave his side to toss your empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Nope, we’re gonna be doing something even more fun, of course!” Then you resume dragging Bakugou down the walkways of the mall.

It’s not long until he questions the consecutive twists and turns he’s forced to take, having only been answered by your pursed grin multiple times.

“Hey, no more questions! Just trust me!” you quip at his refusal to be quiet and just obediently follow. The blonde can’t help it, of course, given the circumstances he’s wound himself in. Not many boys his age can control themselves if the person they like is pulling them along with as much enthusiasm as you are right now. But Bakugou is different from those other simpletons, crafting a mask to cover the elation hidden beneath with usual displeasure. Nothing but his uncharacteristic lack of annoyance and the ample glances in your direction could truly give himself away to his affections for you.

So with that, he places a generous amount of hope that you guide him somewhere more entertaining than that borefest he witnessed from the squad earlier.

But the moment you two reach your destination, he wonders if he may have accidentally misplaced that same hope down a rabbit hole instead.

“What the…” Bakugou’s words drift in the air at the quizzical sight before him. Mouth hanging open, he’s unable to conjure any sensible thoughts in time before you step in front of him.

“Tada! The Capsule Toy Gacha Room!” You spread your hands outward to present him an unhindered view of the room. It’s teeming with small capsule toy machines that line the walls, stacked on top of each other not to waste a single space inside. His red eyes squint at the assortment of bright colors painted on each machine that assaults his vision.

“Why the hell are there so many of these things?” Bakugou asks, jabbing a finger at the machines. You reply as you walk inside, “It’s the Gacha Room, Bakugou. Of course this place is gonna be filled with them.” You impart him an answer he is not at all satisfied with.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid! Glad it hasn’t really changed,” you say, noting the only real difference between then and now were the new toys and characters updated with the current trends. He begrudgingly trails behind you into the narrow corridors sandwiched with the machines on each side. The modest little tune you hum between your lips is a stark contrast to his disgruntled huffs accompanying his dragging feet.

Bakugou thinks being here is not any different from what the other four are frolicking about outside. This might be the worse alternative, considering you give money to a machine that grants you an item at complete random. You have no way of knowing what or who you’re going to get until the colorful sphere pops out at the bottom. And then, in an instance, your anticipation fades away when you open it and receive the character no one particularly cares about—the little charm inevitably gathering dust, forgotten in the drawers of your desk. Overall, these toy capsule machines were just gluttons devouring the money of parents whose kids always whine about never getting what they wanted.

Still, because it’s you, he stays and watches you indulge in your little nostalgia trip.

As your eyes glide down the row of toy dispensers, trying your best to decipher the items contained behind the blurry glass, you chime in, “Say, Bakugou, don’t you have any memories of gacha machines?”

Bakugou’s brows furrow in contemplation. He racks through the nooks and crannies between the crevices of his mind and recalls some standout memories. “I guess. Few of ’em were stuck in front of the arcade place near my neighborhood,” he answers, but those memories immediately begin to sour the more he looks into the details.

You don’t see how his face slowly contorts with annoyance while he plays back a scene in his head.

At the time, Bakugou had only sprouted to the young age of five years old. He’s huddled around his posse in front of the arcade he mentioned, slotting a coin inside the capsule machine that was stocked full of charms of Pro Heroes, which housed a very special limited edition prize of All Might to honor their collaboration with the famous Number One of Japan.

The boy was positively giddy at what was to come out, remaining hopeful thanks to the giant poster of All Might gazing down upon him with his triumphant grin. Yet even when his squeaky little voice hollered out a “Plus Ultra!” to reinforce his luck, he was given dirt in response.

But you know who did get that mystery All Might prize?

Deku. Fucking Deku.

Right after he had his spin of the machine, the green-haired boy stepped up, gave it a go, and got All Might on his first fucking try. To say five-year-old Bakugou was bitter would only be putting it mildly. The unbridled emotions bundled in his tiny body were just waiting to burst in an explosion.

But in the end, did he fight Midoriya for it? No, he did not. For if he did, his mother would have scolded the hell out of him, and his young self reflected in the moment that avoiding parental wrath outweighed the limited edition Mystery All Might figure charm, as sad as that sounded. So since then, he’s tried to repress that memory in the far corners of his mind.

But it seems God just desires to spite him.

“Hey, look!” You pull lightly on his shirt to capture his attention, eyes trained forward at whatever piqued your interest. Bakugou peeks over your head, and what he’s met with does not please him.

“They have a gacha machine featuring Pro Heroes here!” you shout cheerfully, walking toward it with the hem of Bakugou’s shirt in hand, who begrudgingly follows along despite a groan nearly leaving his mouth.

“Isn’t this cool?” you ask. You squat down to peer into the peculiar machine located at the very bottom of the stack. Bakugou clicks his tongue as part of his reply, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers.

“No.”

“Hey, one day they’ll be making toys and charms of you as well, Mister ‘I’m Gonna Be The Number One Hero,’” you say with a giggle, and your comment sparks a bit of pink to dust his cheeks while he looks down at you from his standing position.

He attempts to join you and your fixation on the Pro Hero capsule machine. However, when he starts bending his knees, he finds this to be a bit difficult. The more he squats down, the more Bakugou realizes they truly made this place for children and not bulky teenagers like him training in hero school. His knees and bottoms almost brush up against the plastic sheen of the machines on each opposing side.

Though he has to fidget into a particular position to get somewhat comfortable, he eventually gets there and kneels next to you.

“Why don’t we give a go at this thing?” you suggest, and he tilts his head, eyes narrowed.

“No way, these are a fucking waste of money,” he rejects.

“Hey it only costs two hundred yen!” you counter, “And plus, you might get a certain hero you want, like say... All Might?” You attempt to lure him in using his idol’s very name, but Bakugou doesn’t take the bait so easily and remains rigid in his stance.

Even if he did want to try for All Might, he’s sure his capsule is long gone by now anyway.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, pleaseee?” you draw out your pleas in a cute little tone that takes the blond by complete surprise. Unaware of how much power you have over him, the doe eyes and pout that paint your features make it difficult for him to maintain his hardened facade. Feeling his walls begin to melt away at the endearing sight, he ultimately grits his teeth, eyes shut as his hands rummage down into his pockets.

“Fine,” he mutters in defeat, and that smile appears on your lips once again as you lift your arms in triumph.

Pulling out two separate hundred yen coins, he promptly slides them both into the coin silt. When he hears them clank against the other change inside, he goes for the handle and gives it a quick turn. One of the capsule balls begins its journey down the machine and quickly arrives at the hatch that Bakugou lifts to retrieve his prize.

Snapping the capsule open, he’s met with Endeavor’s ugly mug, seeming even more unsightly from the low-quality production of the charm. The paint job is beyond sloppy, with the colors on the costume not depicted accurately and the figure’s pupils drawn to make him appear cross-eyed.

“Hm, you got the number one hero,” you tease, lightheartedly nudging your elbow at his sides because you know full well it isn’t the number one hero he wanted. Bakugou ignores your taunts and shoves the flame hero’s plastic face down the depths of his pockets, making sure to give it to Todoroki later just to annoy him.

“Yeah yeah, your turn, princess.” He scooches a bit to his right to let you have your go. You gladly follow, taking out the two hundred yen from your money pouch.

Bakugou remains disinterested throughout the entire process but is still attentive enough to observe how you hum those casual tunes of yours despite doing something so mundane. He also starts absorbing the cute shape of your nose and the outline of your lips from this angle. It isn’t long until he realizes how close you are in this position, to the point where he could practically smell your fragrant scent, and soon that pink hue diffuses on his face again.

Fuck, I need to stop that, he urges.

By the time he turns away, the capsule machine has begun its machinations once again.

The sizable sphere descending the hatch this time has striped patterns of red, yellow, and blue, colors that remind him all too much of a certain Pro Hero— Wait. What the fuck—

“This one looks a bit bigger than the others, don’t you think? Wonder what... Oh, hey, it’s All Might!” You go through the emotions—curiosity, anticipation, and then finally, glee.

Bakugou feels like he’s reliving those horrible memories once again as he beholds the shiny, miniature figure nestling in your palms before you lift it to grant a better view of its glory. It twists around from how you pinch it by the attached string while it’s hovering in the air. When the Pro Hero’s face turns in the blond’s direction, it’s like the inanimate object is somehow taunting him.

Compared to Endeavor’s shitty charm, All Might’s is a proper representation of who he is. The better quality plastic molded accurately into the man’s figure, the crevices between his muscles delved into displaying his well-defined physique. The colors on his costume are all correctly painted in his signature red, white, yellow, and blue. They even got the broad grin and shadowy features on his face to the tee.

Whichever company created this toy indeed did All Might justice because it looks exactly like the one Midoriya unsealed right in front of his envious five-year-old eyes.

Bakugou’s body shakes with suppressed anger. His hands clench and then unclench themselves while in conflict with his thoughts. Then, he suddenly moves toward you, darting for the charm that you narrowly pull out from his grapples in time.

“L-Lemme see!” he demands, shifting his hand around to grab hold of it for some reason. The act has you befuddled while you continue to move the toy away to evade capture.

“Huh? Why?”

“I need... to fucking make sure— OOF—”

His sputters are the last things that escape his lips before he staggers off balance due to all those hasty movements. It sends his body toppling over yours onto the floor, where your head would’ve thumped against the hard ground had the boy’s well-trained instincts not maneuvered a hand beneath it in time to cushion your fall.

Your descent to the floor is not at all graceful, wincing slightly at the impact. It’s when the pain ebbs away that you and Bakugou finally realize the very awkward position you’re suddenly both in.

Bakugou is hovering over you, body between your legs as one of his hands is cradling your head. The other is situated next to your face against the ground to keep himself upright, letting his eyes stare down at your stricken expression.

Unknowingly, you had settled your hand on Bakugou’s shoulder out of impulse during fall. The other one is still grasping the All Might figure, which is unharmed despite the abrupt movements.

Bakugou can feel your even breaths caress his lips from how close in proximity both of your faces are in this position. If any of you so much as move the wrong way, your lips would undoubtedly collide into each other. Though Bakugou doesn’t mind the notion, he isn’t going to instigate it if you aren’t willing. But the way your eyes line toward his lips, giving him a similar enamored look to the one he has right now, it seems both of you are on the same page.

Taking your mutual fixations as the sign to continue, Bakugou draws himself forward to close the distance while you rise to meet him in the middle.

And finally, he gets to kiss those lips of yours. The lips that adorn your cute face he always snuck glances at. The lips so unhinged in their playful teasing toward him. The lips he’s been so mesmerized and bewitched by throughout this chaotic excuse of a shopping trip.

And when they meet, they’re as full and soft as he imagined them to be, melding perfectly against his.

The hand he’s nestled under your head allows him to press you further into the liplock. You’re nearly enveloped in his wistful machinations, wanting to drown in the sea of his affections as your arms find their way around him.

You would’ve allowed yourself to do so, if not for the unfortunate security camera you catch in the corner of your eye from where you laid.

Your eyes widen, staggering out of their half-liddedness. You pat your hand in rapid succession against his shoulder, getting the blond to stir and separate from the kiss—an act he detests as he doesn’t want the embrace to end.

“What?” he gruffs. You point up at the ceiling, and he turns in that direction. When he detects the security camera about to automatically shift toward this particular side of the Capsule Toy Gacha Room, his face grows full of panic. He lifts himself off your body immediately.

With the two of you remembering where you are, you rose from the ground and cleaned yourselves up. You try to appear pristine as possible, without letting any suspicion about what has happened get tossed in your direction. Still, the red faces plastering both of your features are already a dead giveaway.

“I… Uh…” Bakugou’s still lost in the haze of the heated moment, unsure of what words he should utter. Much to his relief, his burden lifts when two notifications from your phones ring in sync together, diverting your attention.

When you open your phone and slide across the notice, a text message from the Bakusquad ascends onto the screen.

Mina: heyyyy just finished going through all these vending machines! you wont believe how much money we spent!!

The message follows a selfie of the four holding a myriad of drinks and snacks together in the picture. You can’t suppress your giggle at the endearing sight. Another chime sounds when a new text pops up at the bottom.

Eijirou: let’s all meet up again at that blue mystery vending machine!

“Well, you heard them,” you say while clicking off your phone, “we better get a move on.”

Bakugou relays your words back in a slow nod, following through with a rough “yeah” that cleaves his throat. The two of you walk alongside each other once again while you leave the Capsule Toy Gacha Room. Only your steps padding against the mall’s confounds accompany the quiet atmosphere established between you two—awkward and a bit unnerving.

It’s when you’ve both made it to the meet-up spot in front of the blue vending machine that you alleviate yourselves of the strained tension.

“Soooo… was there any reason you wanted to get your hand on this thing so badly?” you question, drawing out the All Might charm that led those heated events to transpire. It dangles between your fingertips and glances at Bakugou along every rotation. The blonde bounces his eyes between you, All Might, and the ground, unsure if he should admit that he was acting out of childish jealousy and bitterness.

“I… Urgh… Fuck…”

You raise an eyebrow when he fumbles with his words. He mutters blatant obscenities between every possible resolve that crosses his mind.

“Look, forget it. It’s not important,” Bakugou concludes, but you think differently, not satisfied with his answer.

“No. Tell me.”

With that weight in your tone, Bakugou realizes he can’t avoid the subject any longer. He releases a long sigh as he leads you through the infamous tale, observing how your expression grows from concerned to downright amused.

“Really? You’ve held a grudge for that long?” The laughter you initially attempt to suppress ends up bubbling from your throat. Hearing it spurs Bakugou to clutch his hands together into shaky fists.

“Look. If you know me, then you should remember I never want to lose to fucking Deku. The fact he got the All Might charm right after I got garbage fucking pissed me off!” he exclaims loud enough for his harsh words to reach a couple walking by. They spare worried glances at the blonde when they stroll past him.

“Hmm…” you muse in thought. Bakugou can tell by the glint rising in your eyes and your tone that you’re up to something again. “I can give you mine if you want. But only for a very small price.”

He quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what would that fucking price be?”

The smirk prominent on your pretty lips widens while you teeter your weight to your tippy-toes in front of him.

“A date. Just a single date will suffice,” you tell him, and Bakugou’s caught off guard by how simple the offer is. His delayed response has you leaning forward, appraising him for an answer.

“Well..?” You wave the charm before his eyes by the thin string as if to hypnotize him. But in all honesty, Bakugou knows that sweet smile of yours and luster in your eyes is all you need to have him wrapped around your finger.

His playful smirk surfaces his lips. He provides his answer by snatching the figure right from your dainty fingertips.

“You got yourself a deal, princess.”

You happily clap your hands together. “It’s settled then! We’ll have a date here at the mall next week!”

“Hah?! Why the fucking mall again?!”

“Because we didn’t do much here anyway, so I say we should give it another shot together next week!”

“What? And go shopping? I don’t wanna be your bellboy the entire time—”

“Mom! Mom! Look at that boy’s All Might toy!”

You and Bakugou are both surprised by the new, high-pitched voice that enters in the middle of your riffraff. Your eyes trail along to sound and come face-to-face with a young boy staring at the toy in Bakugou’s hand.

“I want one too!”

Unable to control his gloating, Bakugou dangles the charm next to his face.

“Yeah well, too bad, kid. It’s mine so f—”

“Bakugou,” you warn. You halt the obscene words from entering the boy’s ears and avoid giving his mom a hard time.

“Argh… I mean... scram!”

You almost smack yourself. You can’t believe Bakugou has the guile to argue with a child at this age.

Though he forgoes the curses, that doesn’t make Bakugou’s words sound any less harsh. As a result, the kid pouts. He pouts hard. His eyes start to become glassy, lining the edge of his lashes with droplets. Recognizing her child on the verge of breaking out into tears, the mom acts quickly. She’s by his side, patting his back.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go to that blue vending machine over there and see if you can get a toy too,” she cheers him up instantly, dropping a hundred yen coin down her son’s small palm.

“Okay, mom!” he responds, gleeful again.

He dawdles over to the machine with purpose in his steps, inserting the coin, and pressing the lone button on the mystery vending machine.

You and Bakugou don’t perceive any noise emitting from the machine, and yet the little boy is putting his hands into the slot to pull something out.

“Mom, why did the machine give me a paper that says PS5?”

Both of you go rigid. Kaminari is not going to be happy hearing about this.

[shotorozu]

“you didn’t think getting a classmate thrown at you would cause you to choke in silence— and by some miracle, todoroki is the first one to catch on.”

legend : [Y/N = your name] f!reader with they/them pronouns, all might’s daughter reader, reader has a telekinesis quirk

warnings : swearing because of bakugou, choking, if you ever hit your windpipe and you start choking, get help right away!

notes : i’m trying a new format for fics! (and drabbles) idk why i’m going on a todoroki dump lately, it’s his birthday after all. ALSO I WAS ALMOST DONE BUT GRRR TUMBLR RELOADED. i was so mad lol. so i don’t really like this but DONT WORRY!! i’m making another fic.

»»————-　♡　————-«

It’s been almost 4 months since your first year at UA had started, and you’d think by now— you would’ve gotten used to all the hectic things that had to come.

Nope, not in the slightest bit.

Though you do love the class, and you enjoy being around them since they all seem like nice people, (minus one person) the class itself goes haywire with their frenzied energies.

Sometimes you wonder if you’re able to keep up with them, since they all have such excentric and unique personalities. They somehow manage to keep the room’s atmosphere lifted up with their voices, that are accompanied by lighthearted jokes.

But today, it seemed to be out of your favor.

You’re in your seat, recalling what your father— All Might, had said about your progression, and how he planned on helping you work with your quirk more.

Needless to say, you’re quite delighted to hear that your father wants to pay more attention to you, since he was mostly just focusing on Midoriya.

But your train of thought is cut short when you see Mineta fly towards your way, practically knocking into your entire front, and jamming into your windpipe— as it bounces from you and towards the wall.

“Damn grape fruit, learn some fucking decency for once,” You can hear Bakugou call out to him, and you can assume it was him that decided to throw your classmate at you

“Sorry, Y/N!” Kirishima calls out to you, noticing how his hot headed friend chucked the short, and purple haired classmate towards your direction.

You try to play it off cool, since you can’t even be mad. Even though Bakugou’s quite a spiteful person, he probably didn’t mean to throw Mineta at you.

Your seatmate, Todoroki looks at you as if like he was analysizing you. His mismatched gaze locked onto you with concern, I mean.. how could he not? Mineta has been thrown on you.

The air escapes you for a moment, and you try to breathe in to counter it. But it doesn’t work, as it became futile.

You blink, and you try again— trying your best to just breathe damnit, you’re questioning what’s all of this for? And it feels like you’re suffocating.

It’s all very sudden too, and without any warning. You can practically the way your heart hammers against your chest violently, and you try your best to not make too many movements. Okay, just breathe Y/N, am I having an attack right now? It really can’t be, can it?

You grasp your chair as you need something to grip on— facing yourself away to prevent any attention to be drawn towards you, since that’s the last thing you want. Every second that passes, it gets even more difficult to take in the air, and it feels like your life actually slipping away from your grasps.

Was it even possible to choke from getting your windpipe hit by Mineta? You never thought it would happen to you, since your quirk allows you to protect yourself— curses. What would your dad think of this? It’s not like you expected this to happen in a classroom.

A calm voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and suddenly you feel a cool hand press against your nape— “Did you hurt your windpipe, L/N?”

Todoroki’s eyes scan over your facial features calmly, noting about every single red flag that’s shown on your face, that’s practically screaming for something

You feel shame course out your entire body due to the situation, but you nod— still unable to accumulate proper words due to the current situation

The dual quirk user says nothing. However, his actions are quick, moving infront of you to shield you from any attention. His other hand resting against your back— proping you up right, so your position on the chair isn’t hunched uncomfortably.

His hand caresses your back up and down, giving out instructions for your labored breathing— “Breathe in,” he commands calmly, activating his quirk in hopes of aiding you “Breathe out,”

You finally manage to get in some air, inhaling through your mouth, and sharply exhaling the air back out. It feels so good to be able to breathe again, and you’re confident that after this— you won’t take it for granted again.

Unfortunately, the situation hadn’t been discreet enough— as it managed to grasp the attention of Midoriya and Yaoyorozu, they crowd at your desk. Asking Todoroki if there’s an issue, concern lacing their tones.

But you’re overwhelmed, eyes threatening to close. Your body slumping against your desk, and you fall unconscious.

—

It was interesting describing the situation to Recovery Girl, and also to your father.

All Might being concerned was an understatement. He was concerned about how it happened, and how he could’ve prevented the situation if he was there. (But he’s not to blame, at all.)

Briefly after you fell unconscious, attention was gravitated towards you— as everyone was clearly concerned. Then, you were dragged to Recovery Girl by two of your classmates; Kirishima and Midoriya, since Midoriya couldn’t stop rambling about his concern towards you.

“Your windpipe got hit, and the impact blocked it.” Recovery Girl explains, briefly after using her quirk on you “And it appeared to be that you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you. Good grief, who throws people in classrooms? I could give them a scolding right now.” Recovery Girl rants.

You wince at the problem, “Ah.. there’s no need for that. I’d suppose it’s partially my fault for having my guard down.” You grin, but she doesn’t look amused.

Recovery Girl can only sigh, placing a hand on your shoulder. It’s her way of comfort, you’d guess. “Either way, it was still careless of them. I’d go on and on, but for now, you just need to rest right here— you were overwhelmed back there so it’s important to get some rest.”

Recovery Girl’s partially right. So after resting for a little bit longer, you finally leave the infirmary. But you flinch in surprise; a little startled when you meet Todoroki— who’s leaning right behind the door.

“Ah, Todoroki,” You wave at him, and.. you honestly don’t know where to start. Especially after the classroom situation. “I want to apologize about what happened back there. You didn’t need to do that.”

He shakes his head, “It’s alright, L/N. It’s.. what I had to do anyway.” His brows furrow, remembering what happened back in the classroom.

“Besides that.. are you okay? You didn’t damage your throat, did you?”

You laugh, and it may or may not have been in attempt to make the situation light hearted. “My windpipe got blocked, and apparently, I got the wind knocked right out of me! I didn’t know there was an actual name for that! I should really be cautious next time.”

His lips turn up, and he releases a short chuckle— “I suppose it’s a learning lesson for both parties.”

The walk back is.. rather shameful. How were you supposed to go back there, almost as if you didn’t nearly die? choked? The lack of conversation is painful on your ears, and partially on your ego since the silence is almost awkward.

You don’t know what he’s thinking.

“So!” You decide to break the silence, heterochromatic eyes laid on you as he awaited your response. “What do you mean by.. both parties?”

“Well.. you did say you wanted to be cautious more. Which I get, even though you shouldn’t be that cautious in the first place— since it’s not your fault,” Todoroki stares at his feet momentarily, finding his words.

“And both parties because.. I should’ve asked you if you were okay when I saw Mineta get thrown at you,” His expression crumples up, grimacing when he suddenly remembers that exact moment, he should’ve helped them. “I noticed you were choking a little too late.” He mutters.

Like.. how can he stare at you all the time, and just suddenly not notice you choke?

Your feet stop in it’s place, and you shake your head— “You’re so hard on yourself,” you comment, looking up at the ceilings. “Again, it’s not your fault. I was trying to be discrete— y’know!”

“I don’t want you to feel like you should hide anything from me.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes boring into your own.

Blinking, you think over his words— “I’ll keep that in mind.” You’re taken a back by the bluntness in his tone,

“Anyways, thank you, Todoroki. I.. wish I could pay you back somehow.” You pat him on the back, his heart hammering against his chest when you lean in to do so. It’s doing that again.

You turn your back against him, as you start walking even closer to the classroom— and before you can have your hand on the door, he calls out.

“Shouto.”

“..What?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“You can start by calling me that,” He offers you one of his one of a kind smiles, something that feels so genuine— full of authentic gratification.

An uncontrollable smile breaks through your face, and you immediately turn away to hide away the flustered expression that is your current state “If you say so.”

Choking in class because someone was thrown at you is definitely not your proudest moment as Y/N Yagi, but.. you’ve definitely gotten something out of it.

Shouto speaks once again. “Oh and.. why wouldn’t I help you? That’s just watching someone die.”

You wince, realizing that Shouto’s correct. Why wouldn’t he help you?

bonus : mineta got flamed by everyone afterwards— including a serious talk from recovery girl, and all might. even though it wasn’t inheritantly his fault that you almost died in class lol

»»————-　♡　————-«

tldr : Y/N gets folded by mineta bc bakugou threw him at you by accident,

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing.

do not plagiarize my work :))

[snek-snacc-ficc]

Fare and Unfairness

Summary: As the embodiment of Greed, Janus is no stranger to doing whatever he pleases to satisfy his desires. A craving for delicious food is one such desire with an especially simple remedy, that just so happens to come with the added bonus of visiting Patton.

Pairings: Moceit, implied Intrulogical

Words: 2,010

Janus didn't have a problem taking what he wanted when he wanted it. It was a given being the physical incarnation of Greed. But, sometimes, the sheer effort of having to maneuver his way to his prize was more than he was willing to give. Perhaps it was just another example of his self-serving ways, wanting to hoard everything including his own time. If asked outright he'd jokingly suggest that he suffered the same issue that afflicted Logan, the only one of them who represented two Sins, and that a part of Sloth still remained with him from the time when all seven Sins were the same being. In truth, it simply mattered little to him how he obtained what he desired as long as he obtained it at all. If someone was going to hand him what he wanted on a silver platter he was in no place to complain. Which is why he found himself in the kitchen of Patton's earthly residence when he was hit with a particularly strong craving for lavish wines and rich food, not wanting to bother with wasting hours searching for a human with enough skill to make it for him.

"Hmm," Patton looked thoughtfully at both bottles in his hands. "Would you prefer Bordeaux or Rioja?"

Janus eyed the dishware set hanging atop the wall above the sink with a much too admiring look. "Whatever you think is best, my dear," he said, waving offhandedly. "Is that design made of real gold?"

"What?" Patton asked, glancing up to where Janus's gaze laid. "Oh, yes! More for show than anything, but it sure is pretty."

"Indeed." Janus slowly trailed his eyes away and back to Patton.

Patton didn’t react to his guest looking like he was plotting to rob him blind, much more enthralled with choosing a wine. He observed both bottles for another moment, before shrugging and setting both on the dining table. "Well no harm in splurging a bit, why not both?" he chirped, reaching to the counter for a wine glass for each of them.

Janus chuckled lightly. "Always such a generous host. I'm surprised the Angels haven't made an exception and taken you as one of their own."

Patton huffed, giving the corkscrew a firm twist. "You would think, wouldn't you? Out of all the things in humanity to make a Sin, the Heavens choose a harmless little thing like Gluttony."

"Oh?" Janus quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a hint of bitterness I hear from such a seemingly sweet-heart? Do you think yourself Holier than the rest of us?"

"Of course not!" Patton insisted. "Frankly, I think all of their rules are foolish in some way. But out of all the things to punish, why a little self-indulgence?" He went for the Spanish wine first, pouring a glass for Janus and then one for himself. He took his own seat at the opposite end of the table and gave a snap of his fingers. In an instant the table was filled with trays of food. A beautiful, dripping prime rib sat at the center, surrounded by sides of creamy mashed potatoes and gravy, Yorkshire pudding, garlic-parsnip purée, and an assortment of vegetables prepared in nearly every way imaginable, from roasted to slathered in butter and sauteed with bacon.

Janus nearly moaned at the feast in front of them, the heavenly smells wafting through the air further confirming in his mind Patton's skills to be far more angelic than infernal. He took the time to fold his cloth napkin in his lap, and not hesitating a second longer on filling his plate.

"Continue Dear," he said, spooning out a healthy portion of truffled brussel sprouts. "I don't think I've ever heard anything akin to frustration from you until now and I'm curious to hear more. What brought all this on?"

"It's nothing much, I suppose," Patton said as he began to carve into the meat. "It's just I had a run-in with that Emile a few weeks ago and I swear it sets me off everytime I see them. You know they-"

Janus almost choked, wearing a rare expression of genuine concern he'd never dare let anyone but Patton see. "I wouldn't call an encounter with a Head Angel 'nothing much!' They didn't try anything with you, did they?"

"No, no, nothing happened," Patton said quickly to quench his fears, "I heard their lot has been trying to keep the peace with our bunch. They don't want to cause any other-worldly problems when they can hardly handle this new plague on Earth, or whatever the humans are calling it."

Janus's face melted back into relaxation.

The corners of Patton's mouth twitched upward at the subtle display. Notes of true affection from Janus were few and far between, so much so he doubted anyone but him ever picked up on them, but he cherished those moments where the other let bits of his heart slip through the cracks of his usual facade.

"Anyway," he continued, "They looked like they had an apprentice with them. Remy, I think his name was. I'd never seen him before and mistook him for just another human in the park with his true form covered."

Janus clicked his tongue. "Consciousness Darling, you have to work on it."

“I was getting to that,” Patton said indignantly. “It just so happens I had gotten my hands on a box of these lovely gourmet chocolates I was dying to try and got a little...distracted.”

Janus brought a forkful of mushroom risotto to his lips, barely holding back a smile. “Ah, I see. Completely understandable.”

“And you know what,” Patton said, ignoring the sarcastic quip, “I hadn’t even set out that day to tempt anyone. I thought: Why not leave the humans alone, just this once? They create plenty of Sin on their own, no help from me necessary.” He poured himself another glass of wine, the passion in his voice a testament to how much the alcohol was already starting to affect him. “So when I spot this kid looking around everywhere all disoriented I decided to offer him a chocolate. One, single, completely innocent chocolate, just to perk him up a little cause he looked like he needed it. And right when I go up to him, Emile swoops in from out of nowhere and knocks the box right out of my hands, telling me to stop trying to tempt their pure apprentice like I do the humans.”

Janus gave a sound of acknowledgment. “And how exactly did this specific incident set you off down this ‘Gluttony shouldn’t be sinful’ path?”

“It’s the principle of it Janus! To think that they view such a minor indulgence as a bad thing. And then they hold the humans to the same standard. They have such short, insignificant little lives, and they waste it on concepts like ‘moderation,’ and ‘dieting,’ hoping it’ll be enough to please those stuck-ups. Humans, more than anyone, should be able to soak up every last bit of pleasure from their cuisine while they can. Why, if I were a human, I’d eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it.”

By the time the tirade was over Janus had cleared his plate. He polished off the last bit of his wine and released a satisfied sigh. “You already do that Dear,” he said, taking on a soft, sympathetic tone. “And it’s no use lamenting the sorrows Heaven inflicts on humanity; Just be grateful we can nudge them towards their own pleasure once in a while.”

“I guess so.” Patton sulked while finishing his own meal and snapping the table clean.

“Funny,” Janus teased in an attempt to get Patton’s mind on something else, “I wouldn’t have thought you the type to forget dessert.”

As expected, his energy brightened up at the mention. “You’re right, I never asked you what you wanted. Any preferences?”

Janus thought through various options, drumming his fingers on the table. “I was rather partial to that lava cake we had in France.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a dessert plate with the cake appeared in front of him.

“Toppings?” Patton asked, already doctoring up his own cake with whipped cream and berries.

“Just powdered sugar, thank you.”

A silver shaker popped up next to his plate. He took it, sifting only a small sprinkle overtop before cutting into the miniature cake. It was even more moist than he remembered, and the center of molten chocolate oozing out was the perfect viscosity. It only took one bite for him to conclude that even the five-star Parisian restaurant they had visited didn’t hold a candle to the food Patton could create on a whim.

“Have you heard from any of the other’s lately?” He asked, eager to get the ball rolling for a bit of after-dinner gossip (his personal favorite topic of conversation).

Patton shook his head. “I haven’t had the chance to. Aside from you, I’ve only seen Virgil recently, and that was months ago.”

A delighted, devilish smirk blossomed on Janus’s face. “So I take it you haven’t heard about the...hard time Logan has had as of late.”

“No, is he okay?” Patton asked, voice laced with worry, “What happened?”

“He’s just fine,” Janus said, reveling in the anticipation, “Let’s just say that it appears there’s a reason he’s so fond of the color blue.”

He recounted the entire story Roman had told him about Logan’s budding temptation towards Lust, much to Patton’s shock and amusement.

“I never would have expected those two,” Patton said, getting up and waving away their dishes once they were finished, “But I’m happy for them. It sounds like they’re enjoying themselves.”

Janus hummed in agreement, stretching as he too stood up. “The food was wonderful as always Darling, thank you,” he said, leaning over to give Patton a gentle peck on the cheek.

His face, already flushed from the wine, turned a shade darker. “Leaving so soon?”

“You know the drill,” Janus replied, “Temptations to be made, Angels to corrupt, humans to swindle. Perhaps if I’m feeling especially virtuous I’ll borrow you a gift from somewhere in return for the lovely meal.”

Patton, who had been sinking into the other’s touch, suddenly jerked back. “That reminds me,” he said, “Wait just a second.” He snapped once and a gift bag filled with glittery tissue paper materialized in his hand. “Here.”

Confused, Janus peeled away the top layers of the tissue paper, peeking inside. Everything was sealed up tightly in bubble wrap, but through the translucent covering he could make out a familiar design. He looked up above the sink where the gold accented dish set from earlier had hung, the wall now dotted only with semi-visible outlines of where it had once been.

Patton giggled at his surprise. “You aren’t nearly as sly as you think you are,” he said. “And I don’t care whether I eat off of solid diamond or a paper plate as long as the food is good, so they’re really no use to me.” He winked. “Besides, I think I actually quite enjoy feeding your desires.”

There was a beat where Janus simply stared stunned and silent at Patton, who, in turn, looked to him with all the tenderness in the world.

Janus moved with his free hand, rushing forward to cup Patton's face and connecting their lips in a deep kiss.

“Every single being in Heaven is an idiot for not making you one of their own,” Janus whispered when they had just barely parted.

“Maybe not,” Patton said lightly, “Maybe they have incredible foresight. In any existence I would have ended up Falling for you anyway.”

Janus pulled them in for another kiss, pushing his previous priorities to the back of his mind. He was Greed after all, it was only natural for him to go after his desires. And if what he wanted was right in front of him for the taking then he certainly wasn’t going to refuse the offer.

---

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! If you're interested in this AU I do plan on creating a collection of one-shots for it, so be sure to be on the lookout for those.

Here's just a couple quick notes on the writing itself that I thought might be confusing:

-Fare, as written in the title, refers to food.

-The "Sins" in this AU were once combined into a single physical being. However, as humanity grew in size it became increasingly harder for one being to manage the responsibilities for all seven Sins at once. The internal conflict caused a split to occur, with individual vessels being created for each Sin. The only exception is Logan, who represents both Wrath and Envy. The two Sins compliment each other well, so it's easy for them to work in tandem as one. A similar occurrence happened with Pride and Lust (Roman and Remus) at first, but ultimately fell apart later on.

-The color blue, referenced in the short mention of Logan near the end, is often attributed as the color of lust.

[andypantsx3]

conspire | 1 | scheme

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Shouto Todoroki was standing outside your workroom.

This was unusual, as in the three years you’d both been attending UA, Todoroki had hardly been spotted anywhere near the support course rooms. Class H was typically avoided by anyone who didn’t want your classmate Mei to catch wind of them -- and very few hero course students had proved willing to do so, once they’d encountered her the first time.

Todoroki was one of the smart ones.

He looked incredibly out of place and yet almost comically festive in the doorway of the studio, his red and white mop of hair matching the horrible red and white heart banner someone had tacked above the entry for Valentine’s Day. He stopped midway through the door, eyes flicking over the other offensively bright decor, including several violently pink heart balloons and heinous red streamers that hung from the ceiling like sausages curing in a deli.

A ripple of interest went through the female segment of your classmates at his arrival, and despite yourself, you perked up too.

You didn’t know much about him, but Shouto Todoroki had the most interesting quirk you had ever worked with. You’d been paired for a project earlier this year where you’d helped develop an adjustment to his temperature jacket that used pattern recognition to help it anticipate changes in his quirk, in order to begin applying temperature controls sometimes even before he’d made the switch from hot to cold or vice versa.

You hadn’t spoken much on topics outside the project, but on the subject of your work, Todoroki had proved himself smart as a whip, asking insightful and probing questions, and making sensible suggestions based on what he learned from you. He’d been so keen on your ideas and so shockingly easy to work with that you’d lamented the project’s end.

It had only lasted two weeks, unfortunately, wrapping up before you’d had the chance to really delve into his personality or the actual science behind his quirk, and you’d been dying for the opportunity to pair up again and really study him since.

Less importantly, Shouto Todoroki was also inarguably the most handsome boy in your year, maybe even at all of UA. He was tall, strapped with lean muscle, and equipped with a facial symmetry that was almost more deadly than his quirk. Even his scar did nothing to deter from his good looks, only adding a roughed up, roguish charm to his otherwise pretty features. The first few days of your project, you’d had to pinch yourself on the leg more than a few times in order to reroute your brain from his face to the actual jacket.

You’d since put effort into ignoring his appearance, but you couldn’t really help that your eyes were pulled to him like a magnet whenever he stepped into a room.

Like now.

Todoroki’s own grey and blue eyes scanned over the faces of your classmates, stopping when they landed on you.

“Y/N,” he said in greeting, and you raised a bewildered hand. Several nearby girls shot you betrayed looks, like you’d been keeping an association with him secret. You’d have shot yourself something of a questioning look, too, if you could have. What reason would Shouto Todoroki have to seek you out outside of class? It had been almost a month since the project together. What might he want with you now?

“Hi, Todoroki,” you said, wondering if you’d awoken in some parallel dimension where he thought you were friends. “Uh, what brings you here?”

“I have a personal request,” he said in his low, soft tone, stepping into the room and making his way over to your worktable. He’d shed the grey blazer of the school uniform for the crisp white dress shirt and tie, and he looked unbearably good. As he drew closer, you could see the way his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his shirt.

You self-consciously pushed around the messy wires and metal framing on your worktop, trying to clear space.

A personal request. Had he come for some kind of support item? Your mind suddenly ran with possibilities, and a thrill went through you at the potential to study half hot half cold in earnest. This was the kind of extracurricular project you’d been dreaming of, maybe even something that you could scope out and build as your submission for your senior project next month!

“Sure,” you said, gesturing to the other stool at your worktop and rifling around in your bag for a pen and paper. You’d probably need to take notes.

Todoroki stared at you. “Ah, not that kind of a request,” he said, eyeing your pen and paper.

Your cheer dropped. Oh.

“I had hoped to ask you in private, actually,” he said, something like discomfort flashing across his handsome features. He looked almost nervous, and you wondered wildly what kind of support request would make one of UA’s big three this awkward. Was he having a problem with his quirk that he didn’t want to cop to?

“Okay,” you said, looking up at him, “lead the way.”

A cool hand came up to grasp your wrist, tugging you out of your chair. Your face burned at the casual touch, and you felt the curious eyes of your classmates on you as you were led from the room.

Todoroki steered you through the hall and around the corner to a small alcove out of the way of student traffic. The alcove had clearly had the same treatment as your workrooms, festooned with a banner boasting a bizarre pattern of tiny All Might silhouettes interspersed with hearts. Your eyes felt like they might catch fire if you looked at it for too long.

“How have you been since the project?” you asked Todoroki, in the interest of being companionable. “Is everything on your vest still working well?”

A smile touched the corner of his mouth as he turned to face you. “It’s incredible. It still surprises me that it can predict what I’m going to do before I even think to do it.”

You flushed at the praise. “I’m glad. It was really cool work on. Your quirk is awesome - normally there are only so many variables with pattern prediction like that but the two sides of your quirk increased the possibilities exponentially, so the algorithm was hard to code. I had to get a little extra help from an actual computer scientist,” you admitted, before slapping a hand over your mouth, realizing you were rambling.

His smile widened and your traitorous eyes caught on his mouth. “You sound exactly as you did the last time we talked.”

You winced. “Yeah, sorry.”

His eyes widened and the hand on your wrist tightened. “No, I didn’t mean--it’s nice,” he said. His fingers seemed to grow the tiniest bit colder where he held you. “I would have liked to have worked with you longer.”

You tamped down on another blush, looking away. “Yeah. It’s too bad.”

Just then, footsteps sounded in the hall, and Himari Honda came wheeling around the corner.

Himari was another student you’d been paired with for a project at one time, and she hadn’t worked nearly as well with you as Todoroki had. A general course student with a quirk that let her track anyone within up to a mile of her person, Himari’s goal after graduation was to become an actress, with a particular focus on playing the love interest of powerful hero characters. She was certainly pretty enough, with large eyes, high cheekbones, and shiny pink hair that she wore in a long plait down her back, but that’s where her appeal ended. She wasn’t horrible, but she was a little too self-interested and it had certainly shown in how she’d handled your pair project.

Himari smiled winningly at Todoroki, and it became clear to you that she’d tracked him with her quirk. You knew instantly why she’d come to find him, today of all days.

“Hi, Shouto,” she purred. His fingers tightened where he still held your wrist.

“Hello,” he said politely.

You stifled a laugh at the carefully blank look he’d suddenly adopted. You guessed he’d been fending off advances of this type all day -- you’d caught sight of his shoe cubby when you’d changed into your own uniform shoes this morning, absolutely bursting with chocolate and brightly-colored valentine's notes. He was too handsome for his own good, it appeared. Still, it was interesting that Todoroki seemed not the slightest bit interested in what someone who looked like Himari had to say.

“Maybe I should go,” you said, tugging your wrist back, but Todoroki gripped you tighter.

“I still need to talk to you,” he said. He fixed you with an intense look like he could pin you in place with his gaze.

Himari seemed to ignore you. “Shouto, I was hoping to talk to you alone.”

“I’m a little occupied at the minute,” he said, gesturing to you. You gave a little wave.

Himari shot you a betrayed look like you’d beaten her to the punch, then puffed up like she was drawing up her courage. “Don’t accept her confession! Accept mine! I like you -- please go out with me!”

Your jaw dropped. You’d definitely not been in the middle of asking Todoroki out, but damn it took balls to cut another woman off like that. You couldn’t tell if you respected her or hated her for her shamelessness.

Todoroki shifted uncomfortably next to you. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t accept your feelings. You see, I was just about to ask Y/N out.”

Your mind went blank.

He what now? Is that why he’d brought you to this alcove to speak to you in private? Is that why he’d been so nervous back in the support studio, asking to talk to you alone? Shouto Todoroki had wanted to ask you out?

You wondered at that. You couldn’t understand why, when he could have his pick of any girl at UA. You were fine, sure -- reasonably smart with good grades and a neat appearance, but you weren’t anywhere near his level of mind-numbing attractiveness. More than that, you didn’t even have a quirk, and it was impossible that someone who wielded a power like half hot half cold was going to wade that far into the bleak depths of the dating pool. He had plenty of other options, so why come to you...?

Then, like a slow sunrise, it dawned on you what he was actually up to.

Todoroki was trying to get rid of all the confessions in one fell swoop. If Himari went back to her classmates and told everyone what had happened, rumors would spread very quickly that Shouto Todoroki was a dead-end bet. No one would try to ask him out anymore if his heart purportedly belonged to another.

That sneaky little fuck.

“Right,” you said, perking up and playing along gamely. “And I was just about to accept,” you announced to Himari.

Todoroki threw you a wild look like he hadn’t expected you to take this track. Shit, had you been supposed to reject him instead? You could, you supposed, but what hot-blooded woman in possession of sound mind and sound body would possibly do so? Did he also want to start the rumor that you were a complete nutjob?

“Um, I mean, I was about to respond privately,” you backpedaled. “Uh, nothing confirmed at this point.”

Himari gave you a furious look, her large eyes filling with tears, and turned on her heel, storming off. Your heart went out to her, just a little.

“You’d really accept?” Todoroki asked you as soon as she’d gone. Something unreadable glinted in his two-toned gaze.

You thought for a moment. Did he actually want to do this? It was barely a couple months until graduation, but you had nothing to lose in helping him. Maybe this was also your opportunity to study his quirk more closely, if you were going to be spending more time together to keep up appearances. You might actually be able to use him for your senior project.

“Sure,” you said, smiling up at him. “If you wanted this, I mean.”

A smile curved the edges of his mouth. “I did, yes.”

“Great,” you said, “Then you’re officially my boyfriend, Todoroki.”

His smile widened. “It’s Shouto.”

You looked at him in question.

“My name, it’s Shouto,” he said. “I’d like it if you would call me that.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest. This was all pretend but damn it was cute anyway. “Shouto,” you tested it out, liking the sound of it in your mouth.

Shouto seemed to like it too, unwinding his fingers from your wrist to slip his hand into yours. The cool of his fingers between yours was soothing, and you quite liked the way it felt.

“Are you free Saturday, then, for a first date?” he asked.

He did nothing by halves, huh? You laughed. “Yes, I’m free. Text me the time and place?”

He agreed and you traded phones, plugging in each other’s numbers. Then he walked you back to your workroom and left you with promises to see you Saturday, after sending you a characteristically straightforward this is shouto text to confirm.

You smiled as you watched him leave, pleased to be in on his little scheme.

You’d never fake dated anyone before so you didn’t really know what you were getting into, but you thought this could be fun. You were looking forward to whatever Shouto had up his sleeve.

[heyheyloki]

No One Important

Summary: You’ve been by Shigaraki’s side since you both were little, you knew everything about him as he did you. When you get arrested, you’re questioned with how deep the relationship between the two of you go.

Shigaraki Tomura x M!Reader

Word Count: 2405

The room was cold, dimly lit. It was your worse nightmare come true. The one time you weren’t careful, the one single time, and now you end up here. In the custody of the police who caught you red handed. You knew you were going to be sent to jail, and while you kept a cool head about it on the outside, on the inside you were freaking. You were never fond of the idea of jail, hell, you don’t know if anyone really is. But jail wasn’t why you started to grip your hands harder together. The simple and short reason just came down to a person, and that person was Shigaraki Tomura. The leader of the League of Villains that have set a seed of fear within Japan itself. 

Your body sat in a metal chair, your wrists cuffed to the metal table in front of you. Seriously, in times like these, you really wish you had Shigaraki’s decay quick. Sadly, yours won’t help get you out of this mess.

For some reason, you thought it would be hours before someone actually comes in to interrogate you. Although, when that single door opened, you were proved wrong. Another man, much older, walked in. His appearance itself was plan and had nothing noticeable about him, but you do remember his face since he was the officer that gave you a look that made you pissed off to your very core when they brought you in.

When he sat down, he just stared at you. You, staring back, held a look that the cop thought could only be held by a killer. It was dark, cold, and distant. One that surged with unbelievable darkness and would swallow anyone whole into an empty abyss if they looked long enough. 

“I don’t think I need to tell you that no matter what, you will be heading off to jail.” He started out saying, even his voice average. “But, if you work with me, we can make you an offer.”

You scowled. “And here I thought the cops don’t work with people like me.”

“Well, if you have information we need, we’ll work with anyone.” He explained.

“Fucking hypocrites,” you uttered under your breath. It seriously took everything in your power not to start grinding your teeth since you knew he would take it as a sign of fear when it actuality, you were just pissed off beyond belief.

The cop took a minute of silence, collecting his thoughts before he opened up a tan colored folder, the contents stock piled with stuff about the League of Villains. It held a few theories in there, witness statements from UA students during the attack, and a statement from Izuku Midoryia. You knew him since Shigaraki couldn’t ever shut up about how much he hates the damned brat. You didn’t care much for kids. 

“Your leader, Shigaraki Tomura, how long have you known him?” He asked. 

Your lips remained closed as you eyed down the cop. Both of you knew that you wouldn’t start talking unless he had something over your head, and jail didn’t seem to be something effective enough. Though, in your mind, you were ready to screw up their investigation. It was the perfect opportunity in the more imperfect situation.

“A few years.” You lied, your words stern as you use one of your best skills. 

The cop took a second to write that down on a new page in his folder, a page just for you. After all, you were the second more dangerous threat to them. First being Shigaraki. 

“He recruited you? Or did you seek him out?” He questioned, his voice a bit more lighter than before.

“He sought me out.” You confessed. “I just so happened to have skills that weren’t being put to use and he was there.”

The cop nodded, writing it down. You thought he would just ask another simple question, but before he did he pulled out a picture from his folder. It was of Izuku Midoriya. 

“Do you know him?”

“No.”

“Did you know Shigaraki was targeting him?”

“Not at all.”

You sat there, watching as the cop’s sights narrowed on your face. It was clear to you he knew something was wrong, but you seemed to genuine in not knowing much about the boy. You could tell it was messing with the cop which only made you to continue this game even more. 

“Alright then, so it seems Shigaraki Tomura was a private person. Would you say that as well?” He questioned.

You couldn’t help but stare at the man for a moment, your brain kicking back to the first time Tomura truly opened up to you. During that time you felt like you were going to explode, in truth, it made you the happiest man in the world to know you could do something like that for him. Especially when you both started to drift apart as he got older, closing himself off from everyone, including you. Seriously, it took everything in you to not to cry when it happened.

“Yeah, he is.” You stated, the first truthful thing you’ve said this entire time. 

“Alright then,” the cop started out, “did you have any part in the attack at UA High School?”

“Nah,” you hummed. “The boss made me stay at the base. I was not allowed to leave.”

“So, he’s controlling?”

“I guess,” you uttered as your mind left you. You could remember the look in his eyes when he told you to say behind. Normally, they were bloodshot and soaked in fear and hate. In that moment though, all you could saw was desire. Desire to keep you safe from whatever may happen while he went to go attack a well-known school. While he went to go kill All Might. He never confirmed anything to you until later in time when he confessed that he just wanted to keep you out of harms way. That he was more afraid of you getting captured by those bastard heroes than if it was him.

“I was more of an assist if needed, nothing more than a tool to use on smaller missions.” You tried to divert, making sure he didn’t see you pause. 

“I see, so, basically his personal assassin?” He asked. Noticeably getting more comfortable around you since his hands were now down on his lap instead on perched up on the table in a dominate manner.

“Yeah, I suppose I was.” You verified.

“Than I guess you wouldn’t happen to know Shigaraki Tomura’s true name?” The cop questioned, eyeing you down.

You let a faint chuckle leave your lips. “He wouldn’t tell anyone.”

While that may be true now, you just happened to know since you both grew up together. You were with him through everything and anything, promising to stick by his side to the bitter end. And you supposed, this was going to be the end on your side. Jail wasn’t exactly the kindest towards people like you. Sure, you could defend yourself? But for how long until something truly horrid happens to your in a place like that. 

“I see,” he uttered before digging through his folder once more. Quick to place a picture of Shigaraki on the table top in front of you. When you looked down at it you tired your best not to let even the most faint smile creep up on you, knowing that if you did, the cop would figure it out. 

He pointed to Shigaraki’s real hands before saying, “Do you know what that’s from? What does it mean to him?”

Around Shigaraki’s wrist was a burn mark, the size of your hand. In truth, he had a lot of them planted along his body, some intentional, some not. That one just happened to be an unintentional one that happened when you both were young and you had no control over your quirk. He used to always bother you when it came to those, but other time he started to pester you less. You thought he had just accepted the burn, but in truth, he just happened to grow fond of it. 

“Well, I mean, it’s a burn.” You said in a deadpanned tone. You didn’t know why he was asking such a question when it was obvious what it was.

“I know, but the hand print,” the cop started out by saying, “who’s hand print is it? Who caused that burn?”

“No one that I know of. It was probably during a fight he had before I ended up joining.” You were lying right through your teeth, and you would do it over and over again if it meant he was safe. Even at the cost of your own head. 

“Ah, I guess I just wasted my time with that one.” The man stated to himself before putting the picture away. In your mind, you truly wished he didn’t. 

The cop sighed. “Now, we don’t have much on you. But, I’d like to ask you a question anyway.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I want to see if you know anyone named, uh, let’s see here,” he hummed as he flipped through his notes. “An [Name]? Does it ring any bells? Has Shigaraki ever mentioned it before?”

Oh, yeah, he has. Many times in many different ways. He loved the way your named flowed out, hell, he adored it so much he couldn’t even call you by your codename at times. He would just spit it out at the base, when you were both alone. You knew he struggled a bit when you both were out on a mission or in public, but he did try because he didn’t want you to get captured. It was odd to you how they got a hold of your true name, but that wouldn’t be a mystery for long.

“The boy who was attacked by Shigaraki, Midoriya, when your leader approached him at the mall a while back he mentioned his name several times. Has he ever said it around the base before? Is it one of the other members?” He revealed.

You knew Shigaraki had that habit. Part of you wanted to be mad, angry even for not telling you that happened, but you couldn’t even if you tried. 

“He has, but it’s not anyone at base. None of us know that guy.” You simply put. In the back of your head, even if you did rat yourself out, you knew they would use you as a bargaining chip with Shigaraki. That reason alone made your belief that all these bastards were sick and corrupt even stronger.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since you did say he was a private person.” The cop stated, his little act good until he said, “Except what he said doesn’t aline with your statement.”

“That so?” You questioned. You couldn’t break under pressure, it’s exactly what they want. You swore you would die before you ever let someone like this have the upper-hand in things. “What did he say than?”

The cop eyed you down, looking for even the smallest bit of sweat to graze your skin. When he didn’t see any, he complied with your request and read quote for quote, “When it comes down to it, I hate basically everything. But the Hero Killer pisses me off the most right now, hell, he even hurt [Name]. I don’t know if he’s native or just so cocky that he thinks he can get away with that.”

The man gazed up at you, wondering if your neutral expression changed at all. It didn’t. In that moment, you were willing to do anything to just have him continue, even mask your happiness.

“When another UA student showed up, Shigaraki made up the ruse that he was a fan of Midoryia after seeing him on TV during the Sport’s Festival. Since he had his hood on, no one could tell it was the leader of the League. Just as he was about to leave though he said,” the cop stated as he cleared his throat, “Oh, you were here with a friend? I didn’t know, sorry about that. I should probably get going too. [Name] will get mad if I don’t show up on time, he’s very picky like that.”

The man sighed as he closed the folder, moving it to the side a bit. He leaned back into his chair before huffing out, “We originally thought that name was just someone close to him, or maybe even just to throw us off our investigative course. But based on several of your statements and the burn marks, I’m starting to believe it’s someone a little more than just a person he trusts.”

“Is that so?” You questioned.

“It is. You stated before he was private, so perhaps you had no idea. But at the same time you stated that it was no one at your base, even though the Hero Killer was a member of the League and supposedly hurt [Name] in some kind of fight or a falling out.” The cop explained. “Now, if Shigaraki is such a private person, it’s hard for me to believe that [Name] wouldn’t be someone who works very closely with him.”

You knew it was game over. You were close, but not perfect enough to pass this level in the game. When the cop placed his hand back on the table, you knew it was really game over. “So, mind telling me who Shigaraki is to [Name]?”

In your mind it raced over so many different points in your life that you shared with Shigaraki. The fights, the late nights, the mid-day talks, everything. Though, the most vivid one was the day he expressed such love to you in a way that words could never describe. You remembered the way his blue locks obeyed gravity, invading his sweaty and memorized face as he gazed down at you. You remember the feel of tears in the corners of your eyes, not daring to fall. His hand soon coming up to your face and wiping it away with his thumb, careful not to hurt you with his quirk. 

You sighed, your gaze hard on the cop as you felt the protective walls you had up start to fall. You needed to say it quickly or else he wouldn’t believe you. You couldn’t hurt Shigaraki more than you probably already have just by being caught. Perhaps he would come for you, but in the end you just needed to tell one more lie. One more lie before you reveal the truth to Shigaraki and only him alone. 

“No one important.”

[avengershumanresources]

blood 12 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 11 - part 13

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist (GUESS WHO FINALLY FIGURED OUT THE PLAYLIST ISSUE)

12 - a memory

You’d been in the tunnels hundreds, if not, thousands of times in your life. There were very few places you were positive you could navigate blindly, but these caves and tunnels? Someone could take away every sense you had and you’d still be able to find your way home. 

It was a little unsettling bringing Loki into your secret place. Very few people knew of the natural caves that fed into manmade tunnels (carved by your ancestor, Richard Stark, when he settled the land). 

In fact, you could only think of four people, including yourself, who could navigate the paths without becoming lost. 

There was you, Natalia (who’d originally shown you), James, and Stephen. 

Not even Peter was privy to the knowledge of these cavernous paths, covered in old magic and fake tunnels. 

The cave system was incredible. It was naturally occurring and if the history you’d dug up with Stephen was accurate, your ancestor had purposely selected the land for that reason. They were enhanced with this very action in mind. 

To reclaim the castle by surprise if an antagonistic force overtook it. 

Stephen once mentioned that history often repeated itself, but you liked to think it was more of a mimicry of the past. Similar, but never the same. 

King Richard Stark the First never dealt with any serious threats to his reign. He lived a long life, had many children with his beloved wife, and died a very old man with his family at his bedside. 

His son, however, King Emil Stark, faced many problems in his short reign. He was nearly murdered by his own brother, but escaped the plot using these very tunnels. 

Later, he took back the castle with regional support and a surprise caravan of soldiers marched through one of the larger sections of the cave system. 

You’d assumed and so had Stephen, when you’d read about the tale, that Richard had only told his eldest son. Why else had he been able to catch the younger brother by surprise? 

But why had Richard only told one son? 

Emil took the knowledge to his grave, but one of the soldiers had a son, who went with his father long after the battle to explore. That son had another son, and so on until one day, a red haired daughter was born. 

That daughter was caught sneaking bread from the kitchens and when you protected her and gave her extra food, she taught you. 

It was a funny thing, time. Cyclical, ever changing, but in the end, the fates would do as they pleased. How these tunnels led Nat into your life. How these tunnels have you freedom to explore and learn the land around you. How these tunnels brought the most important person into your life. 

(—)

The first time you met Stephen Strange, you were sixteen years old. 

By that point, you’d scared off almost every Master who’d passed the threshold of your castle. Some complained you asked too many questions, others tried to restrict knowledge of the dark and dastardly from you, one insisted a princess was to be simple minded and obedient.

That was the last one you’d chased off after casually bringing the fact up during dinner and letting Pepper deal with the rest. 

This was long before Morgan. This was when Peter was still a little boy and you were a girl still trying to figure out your place in a world that didn’t value or respect you.  

The first time you met Stephen Strange was ten days before he was due to arrive, officially.

You hadn’t known it was him at first. He’d been sitting in the woods on a stump, reading a book on local geography when you passed him on your way back to the tunnels that threaded their way through the forest to the castle. You and Natalia had spent the last few years wreaking havoc on the guard, slipping away without a word, only to reappear in a pub later that night. 

You noted the odd fellow, out of place in the massive woods but not entirely unexpected and paused to do a double take. 

“What are you reading?” 

He peered up from his book, a brow quirked in her direction. 

“What?” 

You took a few steps closer. He didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. Though Natalia would later reprimand you for being too trusting of strangers. 

“What are you reading?” you repeated, having read the title and still wondering why someone would spend a beautiful afternoon such as that one, in the forest, alone, reading a book on geography. 

“A book on geography,” he answered, folding the tome half shut and pointing a finger to the cover. “Geo-graph-y.”

He recited the word slowly, as if you couldn’t understand reading or letters. 

“I know what it says,” you huffed, a little indignant at his tone. Did you look like some lowly peasant who couldn’t read? Glancing at your clothes you frowned. A simple frock.

Oh. Maybe you did. 

“Why are you all the way out here?” you asked again, a little irritated when he went back to the book and ignored her. 

“It’s quiet,” he lowered the book again, staring at you over the edge of the pages. “Or rather it was.”

“No one passes through here, usually,” you hummed, glancing around. “It’s a bit depressing though, isn’t it? The trees are blocking all of the sun.”

“I don’t need sunlight,” he stated cryptically and you noted his distinct robes of blue. 

Kamar-Taj. 

“Are you a sorcerer?” you asked, settling across from him on a mossy rock and leaning forward. “You’re a little young aren’t you?” 

“I’m eighteen,” he shot back sharply. “I’ve been training my whole life. That’s considered more than experienced at this point.”

“So you are a sorcerer,” you confirmed with a sly smirk. “They’re getting a new Master Sorcerer up at the castle soon. Maybe you know him? Master Strange?” 

If he knew the name, he made no indication and instead let out a long sigh, standing and closing his book. 

“Never heard of him,” he replied curtly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He started to move toward one of the paths in the forest, but you caught up to him and followed closely behind. 

“Why were you out here?” you asked curiously, trodding behind in the footprints he left behind. 

“I told you, for peace,” he stated, a little exasperation to his tone. 

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t hold a Master at the castle for very long, they frowned on questions and maybe Kamar-Taj taught them all to be sticks in the mud. 

“You’re reading a book on geography,” you repeated. “Local geography if I recall?”

Your eyes fell on the book in his hand and he immediately shoved it to his chest, blocking it from view and continuing his path. 

“You’re certainly not from around here,” you continued musing, plucking a flower from a nearby plant and twirling it between your fingers. He stopped and looked over at her. 

“How can you tell?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Your accent is a little off,” you noted with a little chuckle. “It sounds like it’s from the border, where Kamar-Taj is located.”

“I was in Asgard,” he countered and you shrugged. 

“Just to visit I’m sure,” you insisted and he didn’t reply. You twirled the flower again, giving it a small sniff. “I’m betting you were looking for the caves, weren’t you?” 

His irritated expression fell and you walked up, tucking the flower behind his ear and grabbing his wrist. 

“Here’s the thing, I’ve read that book and it’s ridiculously outdated and inaccurate,” you continued, pulling him back the direction you just came. “You see, Richard Stark, the son of Arthur Stark the Conqueror, had this whole region charted when he sought to build his fortress.”

“Yes, and this book is that report,” the boy insisted quickly and you laughed, much to his annoyance. “Why would he have built the castle if the report was inaccurate?”

“There was an accurate report at some point,” you explained, reaching and snatching the book up. You flipped through the pages until you found the section on the cave systems. “There’s a little truth to this, some of the tunnels are accurate but the entrances are all wrong.”

“But given the layout of the land-,” he protested and you shook your head.

“Just follow me,” you led the way past the stump he’d been sitting on toward the mouth of one of the well memorized tunnels into the castle. “They can go on for miles, so you have to be careful.”

“How do you know?” he challenged, sizing you over. 

You paused. The tunnels were a closely guarded secret between you and Natalia, whose late father had passed the knowledge down to her. Aside from the serious security risk, you knew nothing of this boy or his past. So you stayed vague. 

“I’ve explored them a few times,” you answered casually, hopping down into one of the smaller openings and calling for him to follow behind. 

The two of you spent a few hours exploring areas even you hadn’t been familiar with. He pointed out a few magic runes, explaining their meaning as best he could (some were completely foreign to both of you) and not looking too annoyed when you peppered him with questions. 

“Are you noble?” he finally asked when you walked him from the structure back toward the forest. “You’re very well read.”

“I like books,” you answered with a smile. “My father taught me to read at a young age and I never stopped.”

It was a half answer and a full truth, satisfying enough for him because he nodded.

“I’m in town for a few more nights,” he looked hesitant, clearing his throat nervously. “If you’d like to stop by the inn?” 

Excitement sparked in your chest. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you promised, a big grin on your face that was decidedly not very ladylike. “Who should I ask for?” 

“Stephen,” he replied. “Ask for Stephen.”

(—)

“I can feel Amora’s magic,” Loki stated, pausing in the tunnel and looking around. “How certain are you of those wards?” 

Stephen’s hand reached and lightly touched one of the intricately carved runes in the tunnel wall. He paused, his expression moving from its usual frustration in failing to recognize the pattern to surprise. 

“They never faltered when I tried experimenting,” he assured the prince. 

“And many Master Sorcerer’s before you have tried completely sealing the castle,” you added, finally lowering your hood to look between the men. “It’s impossible. The runes are very old magic.”

Loki said something, but you didn’t hear him, instead you were taken by surprise when Stephen turned and flipped the amulet around your neck around to study the runes carved into the back. 

“By the Gods,” he murmured, holding it up to the wall. “It’s seidr.”

You looked between the two symbols. Nearly identical with a few alterations, likely given a difference between the spells, but the base characters were perfect copies. 

“Impossible, seidr was eliminated before this castle was built,” Loki insisted. “My grandfather completed the task and died before Arthur Stark even dreamed of this land.”

“It’d explain why traditional magic can’t touch it,” you pointed out. 

“And why you can navigate the cave system so flawlessly,” Stephen reminded you. “We’ve found wings and sub-tunnels that defy geological principals…”

“Then it’s a promising omen,” Loki stated firmly. “We continue on with our task, remove Amora and reclaim the kingdom.”

(—)

“I can’t stay for long,” you explained a few days after your initial meeting. The ball to celebrate the new sorcerer was that evening and your maid had been nagging you all morning about getting a proper bath and dressing done for the event. 

She’d heard the sorcerer was quite the looker. 

Gods if you cared.

“I’m due to leave tonight as well,” he replied quietly. “I wanted to give you something to remember me.”

He handed you a book, “The Complete History of the Vanir Valley”.

“I might have uh, borrowed it from Kamar-Taj before I left,” he explained sheepishly. “It’s a very good book and it mentions this region and some of the more ancient history involved with it. Given your knowledge of the geography and geology…”

You clutched the book to your chest, absolutely moved by the young man’s kind gesture. Despite only knowing him a little over a week, you’d come to respect and enjoy his company on your adventures. He’d even met Nat, who admitted she enjoyed his sharp wit and jokes- a rare acknowledgment by the hardened thief.

“Do you have to go?” you asked quietly. “There’s so much more to explore…”

“I’m due to report to my next assignment,” he kicked at a nearby stick. “I’ll write. You live near the village? I’ll send a raven when I arrive.”

“I’ll miss you, Stephen,” you mumbled, trying to blink back a few tears. This stupid boy was the first person who hadn’t looked at you and completely rejected your intelligence. He listened and discussed philosophy and magic and history and science and…

He was leaving. 

“Our paths will cross again, I’m sure,” he stated with a curt nod, pausing, unsure what to do with himself. He settled on leaning in and pressing a quick peck to your cheek, his face burning bright red when he pulled away. “Goodbye.”

He murmured your name like a soft prayer before starting back down the pathway toward the village. 

The entire time you knew him, Stephen never admitted if he knew you were the princess the whole time or if it had taken him by surprise as well. 

But the moment you saw him enter the ball room, you had to hold onto a nearby table to stop yourself from tumbling forward in shock. 

Master Stephen Strange. 

“You didn’t tell me you were the new Master,” you challenged, catching him by the elbow once introductions had been made and he was mingling between rounds of dancing. You guided him toward the edge of the room, ignoring the incredulous looks and whispers being shot in your direction.

“You didn’t tell me you were the princess,” he countered, a smirk on his lips, eyes wandering toward the dancers moving across the floor. 

“You already knew, you must have,” you narrowed your gaze suspiciously at him. “‘Our paths will cross again’, that was nonsense then?” 

“Would you like to dance?” he offered an arm, already pulling you toward the dance floor. You relented, continuing to badger him while he hummed and didn’t directly acknowledge your accusations.

“Admit it, you knew!” 

“The roasted duck is incredibly tender, is that a regional recipe or how the ducks are bred?” 

“The cook marinates it for two days,” you answered briefly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Your father mentioned your last Master called you simple?” 

“In so many words.”

“Their loss is my gain, I have a phenomenal collection of books you can read if you’d like.”

“I’m not letting this go,” you started back, asking him about the collection in detail, and eventually, letting it go. 

Your new friend was now your tutor and companion within the walls of the castle, as well as outside of it. 

You weren’t one to tempt the fates too much.

(—)

The path into the castle from where you had entered had three break off points. One lead to the hall by your quarters, the second led to the throne room and the third led down to the kitchens. 

For obvious reasons, the three of you decided on the kitchens, hoping to slip in unnoticed with the general chaos outside the castle. 

Before exiting the security of the tunnel, you paused, fingers drifting over the stone walls, praying their security and strength would somehow leech into you. 

“I didn’t know it was you,” Stephen murmured, leaning into your shoulder while Loki scouted ahead. 

“What?” you blinked up at him. 

“The ball,” he explained quietly. “When I first arrived, you asked if I knew and I didn’t. I was just as surprised as you were.”

Dumbfounded you turned to face him, chests nearly pressed together from the small space. 

“You acted like you had,” you scowled at him. “I was furious for months.”

“I know,” he frowned sympathetically. “But you were so impressed, because truly, you hid it well.”

“Aside from being well read,” you challenged and he shook his head. 

“There are plenty of non-royal nobles who can read a good book,” he countered softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I was transfixed by such a stunning creature with an equally stunning mind. Would you believe me if I said it was love at first sight? I almost turned down the post.”

“Will you two quit it and get a move on?” Loki hissed back into the tunnel. “It’s clear.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you whispered, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Gods, I’m glad I didn’t either.”

(—)

13 - a surprise 

(--)

TAG LIST (LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)

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[sugas-sweetheart]

hi sofia!! i’m so excited for your halloween event hehe!! can i request kirishima for masquerade ball and “please tell me that was you!” maybe mutual pining? and a drabble pls!! thank you 🥺💖💖💖

Ruby Red || Kirishima Eijirou

A/N: YES THIS IS FROM HALLOWNEEN AND THIS ENDED UP BEING LIKE 1.8K WORDS WHAT IT WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE- I apologise PROFUSELY at how long this took me though and bye its not even that good i just procrastinated hgdsjkfgj😭 thank you sm @deephasoceanmagic for helping me finish this djsjdskdj this got kinda hard to write after I had left it bc I lacked inspiration and here we are and I’m sorry its not the best work I’ve done asshdjsjdjs although the Denki and Sero thing is one of my favourite things my head has made up.

Requested prompts: 1. masquerade ball + 3. “please tell me that’s you!”

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem!reader

The yearly UA Halloween party had arrived once again; it would be your final one at the school and to make it special the third years were allowed to organise it. One of the girls in 3A had brought up the idea of a masquerade ball to add to the mystery, which was instantly taken very well by the committee organising it.

The class didn’t exactly have dates, it was more of a “dance with whoever, whenever” agreement. Although, people in the class could clearly predict who was going to be dancing with who, and that included you and a certain fake, red head.

The months prior to Halloween rolled around quickly and the third years were allowed a day off from their usual lessons to relax and get ready. The 3A dorms had been split, the girls getting ready on the third floor, while the boys were kept downstairs.

Excitement bubbled in the whole class, the whole year even. It was a night for them to act like teenagers instead of soon-to-be pro heroes and that was greatly appreciated.

The chattering and squealing from the girls was almost never ending as they complimented and helped each other with makeup, hair and dresses. It was a joyous little bubble that they were in and nothing could break down their morale.

If the girls didn’t praise each other constantly when taking selfies or group photos on a normal day, then it was an eternal compliment battle when getting dressed up formally together. Mina broke the chatter with a question directed towards the whole room. 

“So, who does everyone want to dance with?” Although she directed it at the whole room, she sent you a knowing glance and a shoulder nudge. The teasing you had received from a portion of your class this week was almost never ending, and each time you were bombarded with these inquiries, the spiky haired male sent you a small and unknowing smile from the other side of the classroom. 

Meanwhile, the boys were attempting to look their best, and were holding a similar conversation with each other. But it was Halloween night, and that meant some sort of trickery needed to happen for them, and it was basically in the form of dying their hair as to not be recognisable with their normal styles and contact lenses. Most of them opted for a black spray to temporarily colour their locks for the night and match their dark shirts, suits and masks. (Bakugou, a little begrudgingly, let Kirishima and Kaminari colour his hair) 

“Kiri, you ready to dance with her?” similar to what Mina did, Sero gave him a nudge and he received a wink from the tape and electric quirk holders who were busy spraying his hair back to its natural colour. 

Bakugou took this moment to scoff and join in as he fixed his orange tie, “Took his sweet time to do something if he does.” 

“You’ll twirl her, and dip her, and sweep her right off her feet” The comedic duo that were Hanta and Denki, threw their spray cans onto the bed next to them, joined hands and started re-enacting the scene they created. 

“And end with a kiss!” Sero had dipped Kaminari and they leaned in making childish kissing noises before collapsing onto the bed in a fit of laughter. 

Kirishima was brought out his thoughts with a blush across his features, even if his mask covered it, as he recalled antics from earlier. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling, emitting a soft, warm light and candelabras flickered along the tables. Mini pumpkins and cobwebs were scattered across each table’s centrepiece, but the only thing on his mind was the small handwritten note addressed to him that he had found at his table seat. 

“Meet me on the roof at 8:30, I hope to see you there x”

No one seemed to be looking at him and no one but Bakugou was near him, he had no idea who would have left it, but he hoped it was you. Taking a look at the clock he realised it was 8:15pm and well, there’s no harm in being early is there? 

All of 3A’s eyes - bar one pair - discreetly followed him to the door that would allow him access up to the roof. The class gave each other a quick look before going back to chatting and joking. 

Upon nearing the 3A girls table, you spotted a note next to your name card. The excitable pink haired girl next to you stepped forward, plucking the note from the table and read it with wide eyes under her sparkling mask.

“Oh my god, maybe it’s from him!” The excitement she felt for you was clear in her voice.

“What does it even say?” She immediately pushed the note in front of you in response to your question.

Messy handwriting had scrawled “meet me on the roof at 8:30, I hope to see you there x” along the card. Glancing at the clock you realised there were only five minutes until you were meant to meet this mystery person on the roof.

“So, are you going to meet them?”

“Mina, of course I am. If I die you’ll know where I last was”

As she dragged you towards the door, she claimed that you would be fine and that it was probably just some admirer.

The acid quirk holder observed you as you started making your way up the stairs. Giving the members of 3A knowing glances, she made her way back over to the group of girls you had originally split from.

A few meddling friends - aka Mina, Denki, Sero and an unwilling Bakugou - had organised the whole ordeal happening before you; this was obviously unknown by you and the boy awaiting on the rooftop.

Upon reaching the door that led outside, you paused to take a breath. You hoped Kirishima was waiting for you on the other side of the door. If it wasn’t him, then you’d just have to be polite as you didn’t really want to lead anyone on after this night. 

On the other side of the door, Kirishima stood waiting and staring at the scenery around him. The rooftop was lit by fairy lights and the moonlight that shone down; a small table placed a few feet away held drinks, a speaker plugged into an iPod - that looked a lot like Jirou’s - that played music softly. A small vibration from his back pocket brought him from his thoughts and he went to check the phone notification. It was a simple text from Mina that stated “Ask her to dance when she comes up”. It was then, that he knew his friends had something to do with this whole setup and an admirer did not in fact ask him to come up themselves. 

A heavy click pulled his gaze away from the phone screen and over to the door that was opening a few metres away.  His view was flooded with red material as a second click followed, signifying the door had closed and it was now time for him to speak and not make a fool of himself. 

“Uh, would you like to dance with me?” stammered the boy before you. 

Luckily for Kiri, his mask covered the rouge that was coming to his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck in anticipation of a response. A light nod was given from you in return, stepping forward to grab his other hand, which was outstretched for you. While the secrets were intriguing, the poor attempt to hide his identity and your need to find out if he was truly behind the mask was overpowering, and before you knew it, you had blurted out a statement that would have saddened the boy in front of you had your deduction not been correct. 

“Kirishima, please tell me that’s you”

He let go of your hand to slowly peel off his dark mask and reveal a flushed, but hopeful, face at the thought of you wanting it to be him.

“I guess the disguise didn't do much then?” he looked down towards his mask as he spoke, avoiding eye contact with you now that his face was exposed. You pulled away your own mask before speaking up again. 

“Not really, but a hair colour change can only do so much when you have ruby red eyes” 

He gave a soft chuckle at the defining feature that you had pointed out and his confidence increased with the knowledge of it being you that was forced up here by his friends. 

As a slower, steady song played from the speaker he outstretched his hand once again to ask for a dance and this time wasn’t interrupted by an inquiry from you. Taking his hand and placing your other on his shoulder, he moved his other hand to rest on your back and you both tried to find your way dancing together for the first time. 

The next hour was mostly elegant, apart from the toes that were stepped on when dancing, and filled with laughter at small jokes told to ease the initial awkwardness of being set up. He was easy to speak to, he was gentle and caring, and as the night continued you ended up sitting together, staring at the luminescent specks that were scattered throughout the sky. 

Halloween was coming to a close and the moments you shared that night would be cherished  for a long while. Being the gentleman that Eijirou was, he offered to walk you back to your dorm room, despite his being a level below yours. You sneaked down and out together before everyone started leaving to avoid the hustle and bustle of it all. With your right arm hooked in his left, a small, tired smile was plastered across your face the whole walk back and while you were sad about the night ending, this sparked the relationship you would hopefully soon share with the red head. 

As your door came into view, the both of you slowed your steps. There was a slight awkward tone in the air, were you to just say goodbye and leave? Should you kiss? Was he going to say something? 

The few seconds of silence that felt like hours was broken when the both of you opened your mouths to speak and promptly shut them with a laugh to let the other go first. 

He looked at you expectedly, waiting for you to speak first.

“Well, thanks to our friends, this night was a lot better than I anticipated so thank you.” a shark tooth filled smile gleamed with glittering eyes, because he was filled with joy at the thought of you enjoying the night with him. 

“I really enjoyed my night with you, so i'm glad you think the same! I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“Mhm!” and in those final seconds looking into his eyes, your mind had made a decision. You pressed a kiss to his cheek before pushing the door open and once inside leaning your back against it, just knowing the heat that was rushing to your cheeks.

Kirishima stood stunned and wide eyed outside of your closed door for a few moments and softly touched the spot on his cheek that you had kissed. Upon hearing footsteps and chatter from fellow classmates, he decided to make his way back to his own room where he slept well with thoughts of what he would say to you tomorrow. 

Taglist (open): @justamultifandomfan16 @shoutamajiki @meliorist-midoriya @goopyartiste @yee-harr @bizzoldmann-08 @katsushimaa @hannahalanib1 @boosyboo9206 @derpeedoo @mystic-helena @spookykiri @vhskenma

[plazmafields]

Dorian chatted aimlessly as he waited for Krem to grab his lunch, Dorian gripping his own loosely and swinging the bag gently at his side. Once Krem was ready, the two men crossed through the office on their way to the cafe. As they passed a large set of frosted glass doors, Dorian heard soft music coming from within. He slowed his pace as he listened, trying to recognize the song.

“What is it?” Krem asked, several feet ahead.

“Oh, nothing, I just…” Dorian drifted off as he read the name on the doors. “I’ve never seen Cullen outside his office. Not in the break room or the cafe.”

Krem scoffed, “Yeah, he doesn’t leave that room. I don’t know if he takes breaks at all. Maybe he just likes to be alone during his breaks? I don’t know, honestly.”

Dorian hummed in acknowledgement, still focused on putting a finger on the strangely familiar music he could faintly hear. After a moment of silence, Krem started walking again.

“You coming?” he called back.

“Yes, I’ll just be a moment. I’ll meet you there.”

Krem shrugged and went off to meet up with their other lunch buddies.

Dorian kept staring at the frosted doors, reading the lettering over and over. Cullen Rutherford, Director of Architecture. Not his boss, per se, but absolutely a few positions over him.

Is it even worth asking? Dorian wondered. I suppose it couldn’t hurt, despite the likelihood of him refusing.

So with a shrug and a confident smile, Dorian drummed a knuckle against the glass and waited for a response. He heard the music stop and Cullen clear his throat before uttering a quiet “enter”.

Dorian opened the door slowly and peaked his head in first. “Mr. Rutherford? Do you have a moment?”

Cullen reeled a little at the formality. “Oh, yes, please, have a seat. And just ‘Cullen’ is fine.”

“Right, Cullen…” Dorian murmured as he sat, taking in the decor. “You have a lovely office, very cosy.” he remarked, noting each side wall had floor to ceiling bookshelves, each nearly full.

Cullen nodded in agreement, shifting the things on his desk.

“Did you do something different with it since I was here last month?”

Cullen chuckled, “No, never.” he looked up from his organization for his eyes to lock with Dorian’s, immediately thrown off course. “Uh, I mean, I have it the way I like it. Maybe, um, it needs something new, I’m not a trinket person, but maybe something. Bookends?”

Dorian grinned, “Maybe.”

After a long quiet moment, Cullen cleared his throat again. “Anyway, sorry, what did you need to talk to me about?”

As he casually glanced around the room once more, Dorian said plainly, “A few of us have formed a… ‘lunch club’, I suppose, where we all go out together or sit in the cafe at lunch and just chat. I was wondering if you wanted to join us today. I know you usually eat in here by yourself.”

Cullen sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes on his desk, “I usually don’t eat. If I’m honest. There’s really no time, I have so much shi--”

Dorian looked at him with a slight smirk, brow quirked.

“...work. A lot of work to do. I’m sorry, maybe I can find time some other...time.”

Dorian could see that Cullen didn’t really want to refuse, but also felt too awkward. 

“Is it the group? I promise there’s only, like, five of us, myself included. You’re never intruding.”

The blond cringed a little, “Maybe? I-I don’t know, I’m not much of a people person, I really--”

“What if it was just you and me?” Dorian cut him off gently.

Cullen’s mouth remained open as his eyes got wider. He quickly took Dorian up and down, then gulped.

Dorian chuckled, “I’ll let you think about it, how about that?”

As he opened the door to leave and find Krem, Dorian turned back and said in a soft tone, “I would really enjoy your company.”

The last thing he saw before shutting the door behind him was a slight blush on Cullen’s cheeks.

---

After a couple of days with no answer, Dorian decided to take it upon himself to buy an extra burrito bowl for Cullen, taking notes from Josephine on what he might like.

“He only comes to the break room when I bring in my pastries.” She had said. “He waits until everyone in the office has had one, then he comes out and takes whatever’s left. He asks me about the sugar cookies sometimes. They’re just butter and sugar, a little vanilla. He seems to like simple flavors, but he’s eaten almost everything I’ve made.”

Playing it safe, Dorian got a very basic bowl without extras, hoping the flavors would be inoffensive.

Once he got back to the office, he went straight to Cullen’s office and knocked, not waiting for a response before barging in. He knew Cullen would be in there, and he wasn’t giving him an option, Cullen was going to eat.

Cullen looked up from his screen with surprise, shocked to see Dorian with two bowls.

“Time for lunch.” Dorian said, placing Cullen’s dish in front of him with a fork and napkin.

Cullen tried to say something, but Dorian cut him off.

“Nope, eat.”

Dorian sat in the adjacent chair and began digging in, only stopping to gesture for Cullen to do the same.

The blond took a tentative bite, humming as he pointed with his fork. “This is really good, but I feel bad. You didn’t have to--”

“I certainly didn’t, but I chose to. And I’d hate to see it go to waste, so don’t feel bad, just eat it.”

Cullen, thrown off guard by Dorian’s bluntness, simply shut up and ate, muttering a quiet “thank you” through bites.

“You’re very welcome. Having work to do is no reason to starve yourself.” Dorian watched with a smile as Cullen clearly enjoyed his meal.

"I'd hardly say I starve myself," Cullen said under his breath. When Dorian gave a skeptical look, he elaborated, "I just, you know, make sure I have a big breakfast, and I eat an apple or something throughout the day. I try to be healthy."

"Skipping meals isn't healthy, darling." Dorian purred to avoid sounding judgemental.

Cullen blushed at being worried over. "No, you're right."

After a long pause, Cullen sheepishly asked, "Mind if I switch on some music?"

"Feel free," Dorian waved dismissively.

Soothing, almost romantic jazz was the first thing to play, Cullen flailing at the keyboard to skip it. "Woah, okay, how about something else?" He laughed nervously.

"No no, I quite enjoy jazz, if you don't mind." Dorian reached over and softly grabbed Cullen's hand to stop him, Cullen looking to their hands and blushing.

"Oh, sure. T-That's fine…"

They simply ate as the song played, Dorian suddenly realizing Cullen was done with his meal.

"Oh, you eat fast, don't you?" Dorian remarked, finally taking in Cullen’s physique. He was muscular, but not ripped; defined, but not toned; sturdy, but not 100% muscle. He was...

"Oh I--" Cullen looked down at his bowl and scrapped every last bit of rice out, "yeah, I'm used to not having a ton of time, I guess."

"I love a man with appetite." He didn't mean to sigh that last word, but Dorian let it slip, immediately clearing his throat in embarrassment.

Cullen swallowed roughly, but just went back to the last statement, "I probably shouldn't eat so fast or I'll mess up my metabolism. And I am getting older…"

Dorian scoffed, "Older? What are you, twenty-six?"

Cullen laughed, "Yeah, I wish. Try thirty-six."

"Are you calling me 'older', Cullen?" Dorian crossed his arms.

Cullen blushed, "W-What, no! I...how old are you?"

"Thirty-seven."

Cullen rolled his eyes, "Oh, please, older than me, maybe, but not older."

Dorian glanced down at Cullen's left hand. "Thirty-six and no wife?"

"Hey, I could ask you the same." Cullen shrunk in his seat; clearly this was a point of contention.

Dorian smirked, "I'm gay, darling."

"Oh…" Cullen blushed a little, "Well, no husband, then?"

Dorian crossed his legs and sat back, "I needed a break after my last boyfriend. He was a bit much: prissy, self-absorbed, disagreeable; it didn't work. We just had too much in common."

Cullen gave a hardy laugh, "I don't think you're disagreeable in the slightest, I think you're very pleasant."

Dorian smiled and tutted with a dismissive wave of the hand.

"And quite handsome, plenty of reason to be self-absorbed."

Taken aback, Dorian looked up with hopeful eyes, looking onto a completely innocent face dawning a sweet smile. Dorian grinned back, "Good of you to notice."

---

As he worked diligently, Dorian's focus was broken by someone sitting on the corner of his desk, arms crossed. He looked up, expecting Krem ready to head to lunch, but instead saw his newest lunch companion, blond curls less contained than usual.

"Ah, Cullen, out of your cave. What can I do for you, my friend?" He turned his chair and crossed his legs.

Cullen smiled softly but avoided Dorian's eyes. "I was wondering--I know it's lunch and you probably have plans to go out already but," his eyes darted up occasionally to check he wasn't losing Dorian's attention, "I was wondering if later, after work, you'd like to go to dinner with me."

The entire room went silent. The click-clacking of keyboards stopped, the fax machine stopped buzzing, and the water cooler stopped bubbling. Out of nowhere, eyes started peering over cubical walls, and people casually migrated in Dorian's direction.

He watched them all from the corner of his eye as everyone in the room waited for his answer. Cullen didn't leave his office, he didn't talk to his coworkers, and he didn't respond to flirting, from anyone.

Until now.

Dorian tried to keep his gulp subtle and quiet. He chuckled awkwardly before responding, "That...that sounds really nice. I'd love to."

The room started moving again, noises continued and people went back to their places.

Cullen grinned, "Great! That's...I'm…" he breathed a calming breath, "I'm so glad."

Laughing im relief, Dorian shook his head before taking a long moment to simply look into Cullen’s eyes. Golden and kind.

Cullen stared back, soft smile still present. "Well," he cleared his throat before standing, "I should get back to work. I'll see you tonight?"

Before Dorian could respond, his hand was in Cullen's, knuckles up, and eyes locked with the blond as he placed a gentle kiss to each one.

"I'm buying this time," Cullen whispered.

[loverspersonas]

the most beautiful moment in life | viii

pairing: ot7? x reader

genre: hyyh au, high school au, angst, drama, fluff, smut?

length: 5.5k

summary: Eight strangers with different stories happen to meet one day, by fate or some kind of cruel, exquisite happenstance, and realize that they’re not as different as they thought.

a/n: i realize i’m updating really slowly and the reason for that is online school which is taking up pretty much all my time BUT it hasn’t stopped me from writing at all. i actually have many different scenes written already, they’re just not in order, so i have to kind of make myself write the scenes that are happening first before any of those, which is hard sometimes cause i have so many ideas :) 

i realize that the pace of the fic is also kind of slow and that’s because i don’t want to have such a big overarching plot (like some kind of mystery to solve or a big villain) but rather small subplots happening at the same time. it feels easier to me to develop characters and relationships and i get to include a lot of different plot ideas that way (and there is so much happening in hyyh). it’s also hard writing this cause the bangtan universe is really complicated when you think too much about it, and we don’t even know everything about it, so i have to work with what we have and what i know. 

so thank you guys for liking what i’m writing! i hope i can do the hyyh era some (even if it’s the tiniest amount) justice, and i hope you guys enjoy it too. and if you have feedback or ideas, i’d love to hear it!

↳series masterlist

Remembering details from a dream was a lot harder than a nightmare. Nightmares had you waking up in a cold sweat, sometimes plaguing your mind throughout the day if they were intense enough. Dreams, however, were only alive while you were asleep, and then they slipped away from your mind like they never even happened.

For the past few weeks, you’d been getting dreams that you could mostly or somewhat recall more often. Vague, obscure scenes or flashes that changed sporadically because even in your dream state, you had no control over your mind.

But you noticed that they tended to involve people in your life. Your mother, Sana, your old friends, and the seven boys you’d unconsciously formed a friendship with over the past month. Of course, it didn’t have to mean anything. But some of them strangely stood out more than others. 

One time, you saw Namjoon standing in a dark area with a single white light illuminating his silhouette from above, and a cigarette slipping from between his fingers. Another time, there was Hoseok at what looked like a train station. He was walking along the train tracks at night like he couldn’t see you watching him. And then, there was a scene of Jungkook walking on to the road, changing almost immediately before a car swerved right into him. That was one thing you couldn’t forget. Because you remembered it had been you driving that car.

“Y/N?”

The voice of the exact boy you were thinking of broke through your string of thoughts. When you looked up, you suddenly remembered where you were. 

There were a lot of nice vast areas of green fields that belonged to the Academy. With iron benches and tables and the smell of oak trees, it was an ideal setting for many fundraisers, picnics and outdoor events. You were currently sitting cross legged on top of one of those gray metal tables right beside a tall tree that cast a shade over you and the seven others sitting around you. Judging by the way some of them were looking at you, you must’ve missed something in the conversation.

“Hmm?” you asked, glancing at Jungkook who was sitting beside you, also on top of the table.

“See, I told you she wasn’t listening,” Taehyung said to the two taller boys on either side of him. “Face it, Namjoon. The books were boring.”

While Seokjin seemed thoroughly amused, Namjoon’s expression was just the slightest bit annoyed, so you could tell this argument might have been going on for a while. But his patience with Taehyung and the some of the other boys was astounding to you.

On the opposite side of the bench, Yoongi was sitting with Jimin and Hoseok, and quirked a brow in Taehyung’s way. “You literally said that you watched the Lord of the Rings a month ago.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So?” Namjoon repeated, and the tick in his jaw represented the snapping of his patience. “They have the exact same plot!”

You found yourself drifting from the rest of the conversation again, as some of the other boys began to chime in. On your lap was a notebook you realized you’d been scribbling in with a pencil while the others had been talking. It was hard to decide which was more concerning— the fact that you’d so effectively tuned out the boys, or that you were only vaguely aware that you’d been drawing at the same time.

You felt someone studying you in your peripheral vision. Jungkook decided to finally nudge you. “Not interested in fantasy novel series?”

“No, I—just spaced out for a second,” you answered lamely.

His earlier grin morphed into a slight frown. “Are you okay?”

Am I okay? “Yeah.”

His gaze dropped to your open book, widening a little in mild surprise. “I thought you said you couldn’t draw.”

“I don’t. Art class was an ironic choice that way.”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin said as he leaned over Jungkook to get a better look. Slowly, the others turned their attention towards you too. “This is pretty good.”

Hoseok, who was one of the ones in closest proximity to you, stretched out his hand so you could pass him the book. “Woah.” He went through a few various facial expressions, a lot of them where he scrunched up his eyebrows. “What’s the inspiration behind that?”

“Probably not those dry as hell books,” Taehyung retorted.

Namjoon didn’t hesitate to shove the loud mouthed boy off of the bench, earning more than a few laughs from everyone. Taehyung shot him a glare with an offended hey! 

“Nothing,” you answered him. “I just got distracted.”

The notebook was now in Namjoon’s hand and his expression was contemplative as he fixated his eyes onto the page. “You got distracted and absentmindedly drew this? With no idea in your head?”

“I had a dream.” You gave a shrug, stealing a few potato chips from Jungkook’s snack. “So, I drew it.”

“A dream like this?”

You looked back at him, trying not to frown. “Why, is it that weird?”

“Not weird,” he assured. “Just… a little unusual. I’ve never met anyone our age who would come up with stuff like this from their subconscious.”

“Who’s the boy supposed to be?” Yoongi asked after the book got rotated to him.

“I don’t know,” you answered. There hadn’t been a real chance to glimpse the boy from that scene. All you remembered was the black hair and the white shirt he was wearing as he stood looking out the only window in a plain room with only a mattress and white flower petals scattered on the floor. “Some random guy, I guess.”

“Everyone we see in our dreams are people we’ve seen at some point in our lives,” Namjoon said.

You gave this a considerative hum. Though you knew maybe thirty people who could fit in that description. “Well, I don’t remember then.”

“Let me see,” Seokjin said, taking the book in his hand. A moment later, his face morphed into something you couldn’t quite decipher. But it was like for that moment, he had understood something without realizing it.

“Why the hell are so many people out here at this time?” Jimin spoke up as a few students or groups of them began to appear on the field or pathway, spilling out from the building. “This is when it’s supposed to be the quietest here. I was looking forward to not seeing… pretty much everyone.”

“It’s not like we own this place,” Jungkook reminded him.

Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. “As long as the bright young things don’t show up…“

And just like on cue, the group of cheerleaders and jocks were walking on the opposite side of the field. You didn’t let your attention linger on the old group of friends you didn’t want anything to do with anymore. But as you glanced away, Yoongi caught your eyes as though he knew what you were thinking.

“Way to go, Jimin,” Hoseok said, giving the boy a light shove. “You just manifested it.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat. “Seeing them this early in the day is really bad for my digestion.”

“Who told you to shove two chocolate muffins down your throat?” Yoongi said to him, referring to the now empty plastic container sitting beside you. You’d made a large quantity of them the other day and after recalling how Hoseok had liked your baking—and all his following requests over texts to make more— maybe the others would like something too. 

The younger boy didn’t acknowledge the harmless judging tone he’d used. “My inner subconscious, which by the way, I have no regrets about.”

“It’s great how you can say that so confidently about something in your life,” Namjoon said with slight skeptical wonder.

“Y/N made those muffins for us with all her heart and soul—“

“Actually, it was just flour and sugar...” you mumbled though your voice was mostly lost under theirs.

“I was just displaying my gratitude,” Taehyung said finally.

“The muffins were actually really good,” Seokjin said to you as he closed the sketchbook and handed it back to you. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Y/N’s a good baker,” Hoseok affirmed before looking at you. “How long did you say you’ve been at it for?”

“Not that long.” You twisted your dyed blonde hair into a bun and slid the pencil you’d been drawing with through it to hold it in place. “I just picked it up this year.”

Taehyung looked at you with a grin. “I guess I’ll have to annoy you enough at work to get stuff for free.”

You returned it with an exaggerated smile. “You come to work during my shift, I’ll have security ask you to leave for harassment.”

His mouth fell open. “B-but I’ll tip!”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “You’re ridiculous.”

With his arms folded over his chest, he glanced around sombrely. “This is how brittle friendship is, I guess. Like a dark chocolate bar.” 

Namjoon, hiding his amusement with an arched brow, said, “Taehyung, remind me to never ask you for poetry recommendations.”

“Hey.”

Everyone seemed to fall into a silence, realizing that voice didn’t belong to any of you. They turned their heads towards the new arrival, but you didn’t have to look to know who’d approached the table. At first, you thought you could get away without saying anything, but the rest of the boys were casting imperceivable glances in your direction. Finally, one of the others did what you didn’t want to.

“Hi,” Namjoon said to the boy who’d once been the closest to you.

Min-hyuk stood there, as though expecting you to eventually say something to him. Then he looked around the group, smiling his friendly, star quarterback smile. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Min-hyuk.”

“We know who you are,” Yoongi said, the cold undertones in his voice not going unheard by anyone. Leave it to him to keep things harsh but real.

Min-hyuk, probably not used to hearing that kind of tone with that sentence, stared at the boy, a little dumbfounded. “Oh…”

Namjoon—you reminded yourself to tell the guy what a blessing he was— stepped in again. It was probably good that it was him who was leading the conversation. You’d learned by now that none of the others were quite as sensible and level headed when they needed to be. “What he means is, do you need something?”

“Can we talk, Y/N?” Min-hyuk asked finally, the question you’d been dreading, because now it was explicitly directed at you.

You held back a defeated sigh and said, “I have class in a few—“

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

He seemed to be somewhat satisfied when you looked up at him and nodded just imperceptibly. He started to move away from the table, and you made a move to follow when a hand gently closed around your wrist.

“You know, you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” Jungkook said quietly but firmly. His eyes held something like concern, and gazing around the table, the others wore similar expressions.

“Yeah,” you said. “But he won’t stop until I do.”

Jungkook released his hand from yours, watching as you got up and walked over to where Min-hyuk was waiting.

You put your hands in your pockets, right away saying, “Let’s get right to point this time, shall we?”

“I left you a note the other day,” he said, not happy with your attitude, but not able to say anything to it either. “You didn’t reply.”

“That was you?” you asked, dumbly. “I didn’t realize.”

“Come on, Y/N. Who else would write you that?” He paused. “My mother said she saw you at the hospital yesterday. Is everything okay?”

You didn’t meet his gaze, instead mostly looking at the ground. If your eyes drifted around too much, you were afraid to see that other students were watching you like a movie scene. You knew that the seven boys you’d just left were certainly doing that. “Uh huh,” you answered, without any emotion.

Min-hyuk held back an impatient noise. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I just want to know you’re doing fine.”

This time, you did look up to meet his eyes. “Why?”

“Why?” He was partly taken aback with surprise at your response. “We might not be together anymore, but it’s not like I just don’t care all of a sudden.”

“You didn’t care before.”

He stared at your expression, like he was wondering if you meant it. “Do you really think that?“

“You were never on my side.”

“What?”

Before, this would’ve been hard for you to talk about, because you’d only ever avoided it. To think about it would make you think about all the times you knew you should’ve walked away, the times that you stood there and just took everything when you knew you deserved better than that. But maybe it was time to rip the bandaid off. How long were you going to go back and forth like this? How long was he going to try to hold on to you when you wanted out?

“You wanted to know where it all went wrong,” you spoke. “How about when you stood there and let everyone, even our own friends, say all those things about me. And when I asked you to trust me, you didn’t.”

“It wasn’t that simple.” He shook his head. At least he had the decency to look apologetic, to sound like he meant what he thought. “I–I wanted to trust you—“

“I think I see it now.” It was taking a lot of courage for you to finally say what you needed to say, and now that you finally found it, you didn’t even care that other people were watching or listening. “We were both so good at acting like everything about us was perfect. And as soon as I stopped, things changed. The difference between us is that one of us still pretending.”

“Min-hyuk!” One of his friends from the football team—one of your former ones— came up beside him, tapping his shoulder. He looked at you with the kind of friendliness that was reserved for any random student in the hallway. “Hi, Y/N. What are you guys talking about?”

Min-hyuk seemed to have nothing to say, his gaze on you fixed, but his mind on the words you’d spoken. You were glad you had the ability to leave him speechless, to see him actually opening his eyes to a world outside that bubble he lived in. The bubble that you’d also been a part of, but were now glad to have found a way out.

“Well,” you said to both of them. “I have class now.”

With your bag over your shoulder, you turned and headed for the building without paying attention to any of the stares that followed you.

By the end of the day, that courage and energy that had allowed you to speak up to Min-hyuk had dissipated. Hopefully, he wouldn’t approach you again any time soon. Was it asking too much to not be approached by anyone else at all?

Now, you were standing in front of the doors to the pool once again, looking inside, but not having the courage to go in. It was almost a metaphor for your life. You were standing on the outside of a part of your life from the past, not being able to actually go in and see it properly.

Yoongi’s figure materialized next to you, not saying anything at first as though he could tell you were deep in thought. So, you broke the silence first and asked, “Long day?”

“You have no idea,” he answered. “Guess which asshole of a teacher decided to assign us a 10 page paper due in less than a week?”

Glancing sideways at him, you grinned. “The one who probably has hypertension from having to teach you?”

He shot you a dry look, but the corners of his mouth twitched a little like he was also holding back a grin of his own. “You’re hilarious, princess. But also probably right.” He noticed your attention on the pool on the opposite of the doors. "What, are you not allowed to go in or something? Weren’t you on the swim team at some point?”

Instead of answering, you turned away from the doors and started walking down the hallway. “Weren’t you on the basketball team?”

As Yoongi walked alongside you, subtle surprise appeared on his face. “It’s been a while since anyone’s asked me that.”

“You were captain of the team too, right?” you asked. “That’s how I knew you.”

Something else flickered across his face, though you didn’t know what it was. To you, it was probably the face you wore when you were briefly and vaguely recalling something in your mind.  “Well, it’s always nice to hear that my reputation precedes me. And not just as a gothic, underground rapper.” He ignored your subtle roll of eyes. “I played shooting guard actually.”

You hummed, remembering all the basketball games you attended in the gymnasium with your old friends. As part of the cheerleading team, you’d had an obligation to be there, but some of the games actually got interesting to watch. The first time you’d noticed Yoongi was when one time you’d been running late and had been trying to not fall behind the rest of the team. You remembered dropping one of your pompoms while trying to tie your hair up, and in passing, he’d picked up and handed it to you. You didn’t think he remembered it, and maybe it was a little embarrassing that you did. 

“You were good too.” You stopped near the front doors, most of the students walking around you with no interest since it was the end of the school day. Yoongi shot you a slightly puzzled look. “I was a cheerleader, remember? I’ve been to a bunch of games.”

“I remember,” he said after a moment, and it didn’t sound like something you’d say to someone just to blindly agree with them, so that was why you ended up meeting his gaze. There was something underneath those deep gray eyes that you didn’t really understand, but somehow, still found it startling to hold eye contact.

You half forced a chuckle to move the attention away from you. “Besides, it’s kind of hard to miss the only guy on the team with dyed blonde hair.”

He chuckled. “I almost forgot about that.”

“How could you forget? You were literally my inspiration,” you said, gesturing to your own bleached hair. When he threw you a dubious side eye, you shouldn’t have been surprised. Surely, that would’ve tricked one of the other boys. “Alright, fine, you didn’t. You know, I definitely do not miss the 5 hour practices, or the tiny uniforms or Yuna screaming at some younger, clueless girl to stop slacking.”

“But the outfits were so cute,” Yoongi teased, and though you were glad the topic changed, you shot him an unamused glance. “It was a joke. On a related note… what did the ex-boyfriend want earlier?”

You arched a brow and held back an amused grin. “You can say his name, you know.”

“Yeah, but that would give him too much significance. Unnamed means unimportant.”

You hummed in agreement. “Nothing really.”

“Is that why you ditched us afterwards without so much as a word?” he asked skeptically.

You tried not to sound irritated about it, but you’d hoped you could make it through the day without having to talk about it. “I ditched you, because I wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated about it.”

“How quickly you assume we would interrogate you.”

“Well, wouldn’t you?”

“Fine,” he grumbled after some seconds. “At least 3/7ths of us might. Can you really blame us for being curious? It looked kind of intense.”

Folding your arms over your chest, you looked at him with a grin forming on your lips. “Remember how you said you didn’t care? Well, it’s starting to sound a little like you do.”

He scoffed. “Please. You mistake my blind curiosity for something it isn’t.” He watched you a little longer as you shrugged before saying, “Remember when you said I was good at deflecting? You’re not so bad at it yourself.”

A part of you thought that this was a good time as any to actually talk about it. About how you’d cut things off with Yuna and Min-hyuk, and why you’d wanted to. By now, you felt like you could tell any of the seven boys and they’d listen—actually listen—and Yoongi, despite coming off as aloof and indifferent, wouldn’t judge you or anything. But this recent bond with them felt like a new and good thing, and you just didn’t want to jeopardize it, like you did with most things.

"Do you a need ride home?” Yoongi asked when he realized you were too deep in your head to say anything else about it. “I’m giving Jungkook one too, so I can drop you off after.”

“You go ahead,” you answered. “I have some stuff to do first.”

At first, he seemed almost reluctant to leave you alone, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t insist or comment on it. It would contradict his indifference to most things. Only after he left did you turn and start aimlessly walking down the other side of the hallway. It wasn’t like you had anything to do. You just weren’t sure if you wanted to be around anyone with curiosity like Yoongi’s lingering above your head. Talking about yourself and your personal life was never fun.

Eventually, you ran into another familiar face. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Namjoon said as he approached you in the hall.

“If this is about this morning, I’d rather not talk about it,” you decided to say immediately because if anyone could get answers from you by asking the right questions, it was probably Namjoon.

Fortunately for you, Namjoon could’ve read that from a mile away and wasn’t one to pry. He nodded in understanding. “I figured as much. Oh, hold on a second.” From his backpack, he drew out some loose papers tucked into a notebook. “I went through some of these to find whatever was legible enough.”

You scanned the writing briefly. “Your English notes?”

“Yeah, I remember you said the last class went over your head.” 

“I just don’t understand why it’s bought and not buyed, but it’s walk and walked? Like why can’t they can’t follow the same rule for every past tense conjugation?” you complained, but still a little touched that he remembered something you’d probably said in passing. “But thanks.”

“Also, if you see Taehyung, can you let him know I can’t walk home with him today?”

You nodded. “Sure. Staying back for extra work?”

“No, I—I have a shift today.”

You wondered why he sounded reluctant to answer. “Where do you work?”

“It’s a library,” he said with a small shrug. “It’s on the other side of the city, so I like to leave a little earlier.”

You shot him an amused grin. “Were there no libraries nearby hiring? Because I know if they saw your GPA, they would not hesitate.”

“Uh, this one has a nicer collection.”

“Alright,” you said, deciding not to question his responses since he hadn’t questioned you. But for some reason, it felt like he was trying to hide something. “See you tomorrow then.”

Smiling, he said, “Thanks, Y/N.”

As he walked away, you had to stop the curiosity from getting to you. It truly was an ordeal to be so curious and not want to intrude upon things that didn’t concern you. You had to remind yourself that it was better that information came to you at the right time rather than forcing it. At first, the reminder was about other people, but sometimes, you thought it was also about yourself.

After exiting through the west doors, you noticed Taehyung at the bottom of the staircase right outside the building. He was leaning against the railing, hood over his head and concentrated on whatever game he was playing on his phone. You slowed your steps, approaching the stairs. “You’re still here.”

Taehyung glanced up at you, slipping his phone into his pocket as you came towards him.  “Waiting for Namjoon. The kid’s a genius, but his punctuality could use a little improvement.”

You quirked a brow. “Kid? He’s older than you.”

Folding his arms over his chest, he said pointedly, “And I’m older than you. So how about you don’t question me?”

You had to bite back a smile at his antics. It was hard to believe sometimes that most of these boys were older than you. “He told me to tell you he has work today, so he can’t make it.”

He let out a loud and dramatic groan, practically cringing at himself. “For real? I probably look like some idiot, waiting on the stairs for his even more of an idiot boyfriend.”

You shrugged, not hiding the smile this time. “Just a little.”

He looked back at you. “How are you getting home? I’ll walk with you.”

He already started walking, expecting you to follow, so you didn’t get a chance to reply. With a defeated sigh, you decided to go after him.

Your first mistake was choosing to walk all the way home instead of taking the bus. Your second mistake was letting Taehyung take the lead, because that boy looked like he’d never had a plan a day in his life. While you somewhat admired the spontaneity, you were used to routine or a plan of some kind. Although you did suppose that this year, everything that had happened, and was happening now, was not planned at all.

“I’ve never gone this way before.” 

The buildings were older and a bit worn away, but almost in an intentional manner, posters and signs on the gray brick walls. You passed several small shops and restaurants and cafes that despite appearing quaint seemed very cute. The people that walked by were all in their own worlds, not so much as glancing at you or anyone near them. It was something like a secret tourist spot or a hidden gem.

“Really?” Taehyung said. He walked on your right, but a little ahead. You wanted to say it was because he was leading the way, but that presumed he knew where he was going. “This street’s pretty cool. Hidden away from the centre, though, so you don’t really know about it until you come yourself.”

You removed your eyes from an old bookstore with a chalkboard sign outside. “You must do a lot of exploring, huh?”

“Whatever gets me out of the house.” He stopped walking abruptly. When you stopped to ask what was wrong, you saw a mischievous smile form on his face. “I just had a brilliant idea.”

“Why am I kind of doubtful?”

Despite the many, many questions you asked, Taehyung didn’t answer any of them. He could try and be mysterious if he wanted, but you wouldn’t buy it, was what you said to him. Instead, you waited outside while he went into a convenience store for a few minutes. You shouldn’t have been so surprised when he emerged with a plastic bag in hand, full of bottles of spray paint. You opened your mouth to ask what he was planning, but he just tugged on your arm and made you follow him around the corner.

The street you stopped at had to be somewhat of a visual arts scene, because you recalled passing arts and crafts places and small galleries, and the wall that stood in front of you now was a graffiti wall.

“This is so cool,” you said in awe, all thoughts of skepticism at Taehyung’s actions gone. Your gaze roamed over the various artwork and writing, painted on by different kinds of paint and people and minds. It was like an anonymous outlet for creativity and self expression, something like in the olden days when things like freedom of expression was outlawed, so people had to get creative around it.

“I love all kinds of art,” Taehyung said, dropping his backpack and crouching near the ground. “But graffiti has become more interesting recently. Here.”

You looked to see that he was holding out a can of spray paint for you. “This is vandalizing.”

He half scoffed, half laughed. “This is an artistic statement.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive, Taehyung.”

“Relax, Y/N.” He placed the can in your hand himself after he decided that you wouldn’t take it, then took another out of the bag for himself. “I’ve done this billions of times. You won’t get caught.”

Despite yourself, there was an urge in you to just do it, get your hands a little messy. That was why you liked to bake after all, wasn’t it? That was why you chose art class. You could make a mess and make something good out of it. You could control something instead of being controlled. But turning back to the wall of art and messages and stories, you hesitated. “I can’t paint like this,” you tried lamely.

Taehyung shot you a look. “I saw your sketch today. It was far from shitty.” After a minute of waiting, he sighed. “Fine, I’ll go first.”

The way he walked up the an empty section of the wall with confidence, how he shook the paint can and effortlessly began to draw strokes in red paint told you that he wasn’t lying when he said he’d done this a lot. 

When he finished, he stepped back to where you stood, briefly appraising his work before saying, “Your turn. Don’t think too much. Just whatever’s on your mind, let it out.”

So, you found yourself closing your eyes briefly, and releasing a breath before stepping forward. You pushed on the paint can’s nozzle and let your mind take over for your hand and for a few minutes, all that was heard was the faint car engines in the distance and the spraying noise of the paint. Finally, you let your arm drop to see what you’d made. It was a pair of blue wings like a butterfly’s.

Taehyung studied the wall for a moment before humming, “Interesting.”

“By interesting, you mean awful.”

He shot you a look. “By interesting, I mean interesting. You and Namjoon might like to have second meanings to your sentences, but I’m a simple guy.”

“Uh huh.” You watched him move back to the wall and start painting something else. It was funny how before you’d known him, you had him pegged for some kind of reckless skater boy with a rebellious streak. He was actually more of an artsy boy with a rebellious streak. “I guess it would be easier if everyone wasn’t always pretending to be something they’re not.”

“Was Min-hyuk pretending to be a super nice guy again?” He only glanced over his shoulder at you when he didn’t get an answer. Of course this topic would’ve inevitable come up although you’d also assumed Taehyung would avoid uncomfortable conversations whenever he could. “None of those guys are all what they show. It’s good that you hit one of them. You might accidentally activate some part in the brain that knocks some sense into them.”

You nodded at this, slightly amused. “If that was how neurobiology worked.”

“Let’s experiment. Hit me over the head really hard and tomorrow, let’s see if I pass my math test.”

You were holding back a laugh when your gaze fell on part of his drawing. “Is that your signature?”

“Oh, that... it’s kind of like my alias,” Taehyung said almost like it was embarrassing for him to say. This must have been the first time he’d told someone about his side hobby. “For when I’m out painting.”

“For when you’re out vandalizing,” you remarked.

He mocked the face you’d made earlier and said, “They’re not mutually exclusive, Y/N.”

You let out a scoff, but couldn’t hide your amusement. “What does it mean? The V?”

“It’s short for Vante.”

You hummed. “Interesting.”

“You mean interesting good or interesting bad?”

“I mean interesting,” you said, deepening your voice a little to mock him.

The side of his mouth curved into a grin. “Touche.”

Returning your attention to the wall, your eyes began to study the various drawings, fleetingly going back to another wall and another drawing. “You haven’t seen anything like the hwa yang yeong hwa we saw before, have you?”

“No,” Taehyung answered, then gave it another thought. “Not that I’ve been to a lot of graffiti places outside of this area. But from where I have looked around, it’s made me think that maybe this... Smeraldo person isn’t a regular graffiti artist.”

“As in, this was just a one time thing for them?”

“Maybe.”

“I guess that means it’s not just graffiti we should be looking at,” you speculated. “It’s definitely a start but could be any art form.”

“Or maybe the art is just a way to get it out there.”

You frowned. “Meaning what? Someone’s trying to say something? To send a message?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible, yeah.”

His attention refocused on the drawing he’d started, but your mind began to run through possible explanations. What if somehow someone was trying to say something? More importantly, what if someone was trying to say something to you?

The sun was beginning to lower by the time you reached Taehyung’s place. You didn’t even realize the two of you had been out for a while with his detour idea. 

You tilted your head up to observe the apartment building complex. Since you’d never been to this part of the city before, you couldn’t say much about it. But by the oldness and the obvious low maintenance of the building, you guessed that the rent was affordable. Taehyung, like you, wasn’t one of the richer kids of the Academy. You supposed that the talent that had gotten him in was art related, if not painting specifically.

“Is this where you live?” you asked to break the silence.

“Yup,” Taehyung said, popping the sound at the end. “Home sweet…” He trailed off a little as his faraway gaze crossed the building, instead turning back to you. “Do you live close by? I can walk with you.”

You made a dubious face. “Are you sure you want to walk there and then all the way back?”

“Hey, I may be lazy, but I’m not that lazy.”

“I don’t need protecting, if that’s what you were going to say.”

He scoffed. “Obviously not. You broke a guy’s fucking jaw!”

“It wasn’t actually broken,” you muttered before shaking your head. “Wouldn’t you rather go home? Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

“No one’s waiting for me.” Before you could say anything, he waved it away, his long hair hiding the expression on his face you were trying to read. “It’s fine. Forget it.”

But he didn’t make a move to walk towards the complex’s stairs that led up to the first floor. Even as you stood there for another minute and he just stood with you, you realized he wasn’t about to head home regardless of if you left now or stayed. And for a moment, you wondered if this was what he had meant that day weeks ago. No one’s waiting for me. It was a thought that had held a place in your mind for a long time too.

It’s better not to force information you don’t even need to know, a voice in the back of your head reminded. Finally, you said, “Are you hungry? I could go for some coffee, and the Brew’s not far from here.”

Taehyung turned to look at you. If he was grateful for the chance to avoid going home, he didn’t show it. “Will you give me a discount?”

“If you stop talking, I’ll pay for your entire order.”

The carefree smile that stretched across his face as he started dragging you towards the next street was enough for you to know that he was, in fact, at least a little grateful.

chapter vii // chapter ix (coming soon)