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zoroara · 1 year

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I have Asks for you! :D

For Xanxus:

😇 A headcanon about their religion/lack thereof

🧸 A headcanon about their childhood

🫂 A friendship headcanon

For Squalo:

🌟 A headcanon about their desires/wishes

🪢 A headcanon about their family

💝 A headcanon about their love language

For Luss:

🦾 A disability headcanon

🏳️‍⚧️ A gender headcanon

And! Of course! For Vittorio:

❤️‍🔥 A romantic headcanon

🌟 A headcanon about their desires/wishes

💝 A headcanon about their love language

👽 A headcanon about a weird quirk of theirs

Extremely funny that like a good amount of these things I actually talked about yesterday with some people. Now this is going to be long so keep reading be upon ye

Starting with Xanxus of course~

A headcanon about their religion/lack thereof,

In terms of religion while some may find the belief of a god comforting, I think after all Xanxus has been through he would not find it as such. Because if there is a god it would most certainly feel like that god has it out for him. So it's more comfortable to say it doesn't exist and it's the people who did this. After all, if they're only men, they can be killed or made to stand in line. It gives him a sense of control and power over his circumstance that he needs. So long story short though he was probably raised to believe in god, at some point he became an atheist.

Head canon about his childhood. It certainly wasn't good, if we're talking early childhood there were definitely days where he and his mom went hungry, he had to be paranoid about other people from the very start and aggressive to protect himself from other people or sometimes just to keep the little food he had. Upon being taken to Timoteo's home this wouldn't go away, and since Timoteo was so busy and didn't prioritize Xanxus' acclimation to his home Xanxus was constantly on edge until this became set in stone. At which point is when he started to fully distrust that the man he had been told was his dad was such, because it had felt like he should be comfortable if that were the case. It was terrifying to him when he found out he was right. (I got some head canons that if Timoteo had done a generally better job that Xanxus would be pretty different)

And then a friendship head canon, unsurprisingly, it's VERY hard for Xanxus to become friends with someone. Not just because of his distrusting nature, but also his own aggression and impatience. However, though he doesn't realize it himself is once someone actually becomes his friend he is incredibly loyal to them as he expects the same from them. He didn't have to agree to Mammon's request, he didn't have to keep pushing to go on for it, he didn't have to try and reassure the rest when they'd been beaten to hell and back by Vindice. It's hard to tell because of his naturally closed off personality when you're friends with him. But these kinds of things he'll do without thought.

Now it's time for Squalo

Something I noticed about Squalo, is though he has his accomplishments unlike other prideful characters I typically see in media, most of the times such things are mentioned, they're not BY HIM. Most of the information we get about them are actually from DINO. He brings up his sword emperor title rarely if at all and that's a huge achievement! Which leads me to believe that while Squalo constantly strives to be the best. What he wants more than anything is to have his accomplishments acknowledged by others but knows just how hollow it sounds if he says it himself(Probably because of having to deal with Levi tbh) he WANTS recognition badly enough that he'll do anything to have it. But he refuses to say it. He wants people to have pride in him. But knows if he points it out, that any praise he got for it means little. Because wouldn't they already know, if it was something important?

Oh a head canon about his family. Well let's be truthful here no matter what the Varia is his REAL Family, but I would assume you're talking about his biological one. In which I've given him absolutely horrible parents. He's an only child btw. So lemme settle you down here cause we're gonna be on this for a HOT MINUTE. Also warning for a lot of child abuse. You might wanna skip this paragraph.

His parents Lucrezia(his mom), Gabriele(his dad) were both members of the mafia long before so squalo was always to be raised in this environment. They really just had a kid to continue blood, and to hand him off to some other family for relations(also while i am using he here, since i head canon him as trans please be aware, to them he was a girl, his mom has also refused to give it up especially since they look similar) and once he was old enough to hold a weapon was trained to kill so he'd at least be of some use if they couldn't marry him off. His father often took out his anger issues on the shark inside and outside of training, as an excuse of making him stronger. The most common way outside of training is Gabriele would take a cigarette he was smoking and press it against Squalo's neck, saying "don't flinch". He'd always use his storm flame to make it burn worse so Squalo could never fully brace himself. I make this the reason why Squalo never flinches much or recovers incredibly quickly when hurt or injured. His mom on the other hand was emotionally and mentally manipulative. She instilled in him his need for perfection, his reckless self destructive and self sacrificial tendencies, after all he's just a weapon a tool to be used. So what if he dies trying, he full filled his purpose. After the coup they disowned him completely and refused to communicate, kicking him out at 14 to move in with the rest of the Varia. He refuses to talk about what happened, and just wants to move forward.

Now on a lighter note, A head canon about his love language. There's a very obvious theme of you know, acts of service. He does that a LOT. But I he's both a words of affection and physical touch kind of guy, once he allows himself to be. Absolutely not allowed during his fucking work though god forbid you try to kiss him on duty and make him look soft in front of his men. But off duty? He'll be all over you, he's touch starved as hell and finally finding someone he can drop his guard around means you need to pick up what he's been missing. He's also a complete idiot about cuddling, and I mean he refuses to be anything but the big spoon and it does not matter if you are actually bigger than him and probably would crush him. Honestly just part of the experience. He's one to absentmindedly quietly ramble compliments under his breath(even if it's not that quiet thanks to his natural loudness) while cuddling too.

Now for Lussuria!

Alright the disability is a fun one because Luss already has one in Canon but then I gave him another. One we know Lussuria has some form of blindness as he needs corrective glasses for it, it's also noted that Lussuria was actually using Fran's distinct hat to recognize him that he couldn't even remember what Fran's face looked like, and let's be honest Fran has a pretty distinct face. So Lussuria may have facial blindness and may be looking at other features of the Varia in order to recognize them.

But as for the one I gave him, Well we know that in the past that being able to use flames was an extreme rarity and rings were the thing that made it significantly more common. Meaning Sun flames were probably excessively hard to find much less someone who could use them well. The reason I bring this up, is because of the damages Ryohei did to Lussuria's leg, which in the anime is not that bad, in the manga you can see sheer tendon in his injury, that could not possibly have healed right without the help of sun flame. So I make it that Lussuria's metal knee is now his weak side. It also follows that in future and rainbow arc he doesn't fight as much except in really important battles, and is typically one of the first ones down. He also makes significantly less strikes to the enemy in both battles than the others. He's trying to keep up with the rest of the Varia but his weak side is keeping him from doing so most likely due to the pain he has from actually using it.

Now gender head canons for Lussuria, I do think he identifies as male, he just likes to get funky with titles and tbh he is so powerful for this. you go girl! Though I do mostly think he uses only he/him, I do def understand when people also give him she/her pronouns or make that the only ones she uses. I can see it.

Okay and finally Vittorio

A romantic head canon hm~? Well, that's a fun one, because if you some how manage to get past like. all the barriers. Vittorio is an extremely doting partner. However because they straight up do not know what to do in a relationship like this due to inexperience thanks to commitment issues, they will uh, sit you down and try and talk out expectations in the relationship, find and set boundaries at the very start. He REALLY doesn't wanna mess it up he's so nervous.

As for desires and wishes there's only one big one. One may think that Vittorio's biggest desire would have to be being known in history or whatever. But he knows that it would only be a name. who he was would be forgotten to time. there would no one who knew how they acted how they cared, what they liked nothing. without bonds there's no one who would really know you anymore. so what's a big achievement with your name tagged on really? a fun fact. So Vittorio's biggest desire, is something he actively stops himself from, which is to be to be known, to be cared for, to be understood.

He very much a physical touch kind of dude, you have to live with the fact if you do not tell him not to this needy needy man will almost constantly be draped over you, kissing you so on. Very much words of affirmation, ready to tease, flirt with, and compliment, you at a moments notice. He also is a gift giver, but since he often makes it from scratch it's also an act of service. Overall he expresses his love in many many ways.

Vittorio has many weird quirks. But for most people it tends to be his stimming that usually confuses people. As he seems so calm and then after a bit of sitting still if he's not done anything with his hands and legs he either straight up gets up and starts walking and pacing. Most of the people in the Varia are used to this, they never fucking questioned it but boy is it fucking scary to see them suddenly get up during a serious meeting and start walking around the room because their face when serious is a glare.

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #khr ocs #Xanxus #Superbi Squalo #Lussuria #Vittorio #ask game #character asks

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acourtofthought · 1 year

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Went through the Elucien tag on IG and let me tell you that apperantly El/riels don't know how to tag?

Anyway, I saw a meme made from an El/riel about us and gwynriels (The meme of that women screaming, crying and showing an accusing finger on the white cat on the table). Sjm is the cat and apperantly we're crying because the "bread and roses" line from the crossover means El/riel endgame. I honestly think it's funny, given that line had nothing to do with any ships. Not even a little bit. When I read it the first time I thought nothing of it because... those were just words. To describe what Bryce is seeing and feeling. Sjm also basically debunked it in an Interview, so idk what they're on about..?

I finally came to the realization that the reason why they have convienced themselves that these ships have 0% chances of happening, is because they downgrade EVERY gwynriel, jassa, elucien and even moriel scene and make literally everything about El/riel. From taking away quotes and scenes, to villainize Gwyn and Lucien, to make every simple word like "roses" and "shadows" about El/riel, to spin a narrative about why he can't think beyond sexual fantasies if he's so in love/ just accusing gwynriels and eluciens for being "scared of sex", to twist canon, to take Sarah's words in interviews and lives and claim she's talking about El/riel, to spread rumours that they have someone in bloomsburry that can confirm El/riel is endgame and the list goes on and on. Instead of seeing the similarities that gwynriel and all the other endgame ships have (the whole singing and sparkling in the chest etc.) they either claim the bonus chapter is irrelevant or it's all Gwyn's doing. However, the language Sjm used in that bonus chapter sounds exactly like the language she uses for all her mated couples, especially Bryce and Hunt (their bonus chapter nailed the deal for me). It did not sound anything like Gwyn luring Azriel, otherwise we would have Azriel acting strange and others noticing that throughout the book. For heaven's sake, I might not have shipped El/riel but I thought they'd be endgame when I first read this series because of what I heard about El/riel and Lucien and.. reading it a second time I've realized that most of what they had said wasn't true. Yes, they're closer than Elucien and Gwynriel are, but so I've noticed more Elucien scenes and noticed that some of them were completely twisted by El/riels. For example, claiming that Lucien had done nothing but yelling Elain's name and immediatly claiming her as his mate at the end of acomaf (Some random el/riel also came up to me and straight up told me that in an long damn text on IG and I was SHOCKED). Or claiming it was all Azriel who immediatly knew what was wrong with Elain... that's also not true. Plenty of scenes were twisted to make it seem like El/riel has dominated all the books which leads to people claiming El/riel had 4 books of build up..

They completely refuse to see the chances that these ships have. I'm not even mad at it or anything, just amazed. That is were I think "No wonder they believe Gwynriel and Elucien would be fanservice.."

I think it's best to get your head of off your favorite ship and acknowledge that Sjm can do whatever she likes and that she too has a different Interpretation. There will always be a chance that she won't do what you've convienced yourself she would. This stands for everyone, not just El/riels. Better be prepared than get an unexpected kick in the face.

I'm glad I have found your page to confirm that I'm not the only one seeing how much in the books has been twisted, especially acowar. I haven't been in this shipwar for long and I was a casual reader and shipper before my reread. I pretty much needed some confirmation that I'm not the only one who thinks that way.

If you only look at the E/riel scenes than I can absolutely understand why E/riel looks appealing. Under a certain lens, (and written by a different author), E/riel could easily be a thing. It would be one of two things. I think some view it as a Bridgerton type romance. He says things "gently", "politely" to Elain, takes her hand and leads her to the garden, rescues her from the dastardly villain, etc. And some view it as sort of a mafia romance. The bad dark man who knows he's doing bad things but has to to protect his empire is rewarded with the beautiful, innocent flower, proving he's not destined to be alone for his crimes. She plays no part in the family business yet supports him and loves him when he comes home covered in the blood of his enemies. I HAVE read those types of books.

But we know for a fact SJM doesn't like the trope where the male is the protector, shielding the female from the dark and dangerous. Otherwise Tamlin and Feyre would have remained together. She likes her females to be strong and to sass the male, to give back just as hard and for them to share the characteristics of them (both good and bad) so they are a true pairing of souls, equally matched in nearly all ways. So when readers stop trying to twist the book to what they want to see and like reading about and look at what SJM likes reading and writing about, when they stop focusing on just E/riel and pay attention to the series as a whole, everything looks very different. We see that Az pretends to be something he's not around Elain because the second he's away, he's speaking out on what she should or should not do. He's starting fights in political meetings, acting disrespectful towards Lucien, disobeying Feyre and Rhys, torturing people, being unwilling to talk his friends of 500+ years of the things that really matter, etc. We see that SJM is constantly drawing parallels to how similar in personality Elucien is. We see that SJM has begun drawing parallels to how similar in personality Gwynriel is. Is the author definitely going the route of Elucien, Jassa and Gwynriel? We'll have no idea until the book is written. But it really does no good to pretend SJM hasn't added things about those pairings (not necessarily romantic things at this time but hints at their compatibility) for no reason at all. To act like there's not just as much a chance for them especially when you consider how they are shaping up to be more similar to the other endgame couples SJM writes about.

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saltysaccharin · 11 months

Text

Med Student

— [PRE-ELYSIUM] {CANON}

• characters :: hawks / takami keigo, ryouga atsumu + hero public safety commission (briefly), others (briefly)

• content :: narrative, backstory arc™, childhood friends to lovers, fluff and angst so hurt/comfort-esque, bittersweet ending

• warnings :: none but remember the hpsc is horrible

prompt / synopsis :: a quick look at doc apollo before he became doc apollo. at least, from a bird's eye view (metaphorically).

word count :: 4.9k

a/n :: i've been wanting to showcase not-adult atsumu for a while, but i can't put his whole heart and soul out for the world to see just yet because he's supposed to be confusing and unreadable and ✨mysterious✨

so i got the next best thing, via hawks' pov <3

"Hawks,"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"That's enough training for today," The handler cleared her throat, uncrossing her legs before standing up. As she dusted off her pencil skirt, scarlet feathers belonging to thirteen-year-old Hawks paused in midair. He looked up at her curiously, which she acknowledged by raising a hand. "We have another task for you."

The dirty blond wiped sweat from his temple as his feathers gathered around him, then repositioned themselves properly onto his wings. He straightened his posture and patiently awaited the details of this new 'task,' although internally, his mind was racing in anticipation — was it his first official mission, perhaps? He realized that he was probably too young for that. Then again, he was barely a fledgling out of the nest when the Hero Public Safety Commission scouted him out, so it wasn't impossible—

He was competent, right? Did they finally trust him enough to handle the real world again? Hawks' chest thrummed in excitement and hope, following his handler out of the training room and into the HPSC's dull hallways.

She hummed, likely noticing his silent enthusiasm but choosing not to comment on it further. Instead, she started, "Sometime last month, the Commission found a preteen..." Hawks furrowed his eyebrows, evidently perplexed while she explained, "He's been gifted a powerful Quirk — like you — but unfortunately, it caused the downfall of his ordinary life. We have since decided to take him in and train him.

"However, he has proven to be a very.. difficult child. It seems that even with time, he refuses to cooperate with us. He either refuses to speak a word or simply has an outburst." The handler sighed, bringing a hand up to the bridge of her nose. Clearing her throat, she turned to look down at Hawks, "So, we were thinking that it might be good for him to interact with someone closer to his age. Maybe you could talk some sense into him, given that you're skilled in almost anything else."

The sound of sugar-laced words were familiar to Hawks' ears by now.

"So, are you up for the task, Hawks?" She asked directly.

...But they had yet to lose their effect, by this point.

The young Hero-in-training nodded, a determined flame in his eyes. "I am. I'll convince him, for sure. I'm willing to deal with him, no matter what he might throw my way!" He declared, balling his hands into fists.

His handler only laughed with mirth, "So dramatic. Well, you're in luck; we're here," The woman abruptly stopped on their stroll, turning to face a door. Hawks scrutinized the lack of a nameplate. "Let us know how it goes, and don't be afraid to back out if it's too much to handle."

'It won't be too much to handle,' Hawks wanted to retort, but ultimately kept the attitude to himself in favor of a quiet nod. He reached for the handle and turned, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him in one swift move.

"I told you people to LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

Almost instantly, a small tray was sent flying his way. It would have hit him right in the face had he not used his wing to block the attack, the tray falling to the floor with a clatter. Hawks scoffed to himself before lowering his makeshift shield, finally getting a good look at his assailant.

"O-Oh. You're not..." Stammered a boy with one too many white strands tangled in his brown hair for his age. He retracted the arm used to attack rather bashfully, grabbing ahold of his gloved left wrist. He couldn't seem to look at Hawks for very long, bright orange eyes darting around the room anxiously; his lip quivered, the beginning syllables of an apology forming, before he settled for a "...Whatever."

The kid slid down the wall with a frown, bringing his knees up to his chest as he sat on the floor. There was a relatively decent bed right beside him, apparently rejected.

Hawks was at a loss. It had been far too long since he'd genuinely socialized with someone his age, not to mention how.. disturbed this particular person was. He understood very early on that maybe he bit off more than he could chew with this one — but that didn't mean he was willing to give up. The higher-ups were counting on him, relying on him; how could he even think about letting them down when he was finally given a chance to show how good of an asset he was?

Taking a deep breath, Hawks took a tentative step forward, which did not get a reaction from the other. He interpreted this as a good sign, choosing to come even closer, and closer, until he was eventually seated beside the boy on the floor.

When he was met with still no response, Hawks awkwardly took a look around the room before speaking. "So," That was not a good start, he winced internally, but pressed onward, "What's your name?"

"Atsumu."

The immediate reply almost caused Hawks' heart to beat right out of his ribcage. He wasn't expecting a reply at all, much less a quick and cooperative one. Steadying himself, the former cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "Well—" An unwanted voice crack made him want to die right then— "It's nice to meet you, Atsumu. My name is Hawks."

"That's a stupid name," Atsumu deadpanned with zero hesitation.

"It— It is not!" Hawks flushed, his wings puffing up defensively.

"Is too," The brunet huffed, looking up from the hiding place that was the space between his arms, "But seriously, what is your name? Don't tell me 'Hawks' is, because I'm not going to believe you."

Hawks glared, his own frown forming on his face. He glanced away and mumbled, "Smartass." Into his palm, only for an exaggerated gasp to come from behind.

"Hey! You're not allowed to say that!"

"Says who? Maybe you're not, but I'm older than you, you know!"

"Do you even know how old I am?"

"...Eleven..?"

"I'M TWELVE—!"

The two boys fell into a rather uncomfortable silence after that. Not so uncomfortable that it'd warrant one wanting the other to leave, but it definitely wasn't as warm and friendly as a normal interaction between children should've been.

Hawks grumbled internally, wrapping his wings around himself in an attempt to calm his nerves. He didn't dislike Atsumu so far, really, it was just.. difficult, like the handler had recounted. Hawks briefly considered that maybe he contributed to the problem. Considering the fact that he didn't have many friends growing up — or at all, for that matter. His way of living before the HPSC took him in was less than ideal...

As he looked back on that time, he sighed aloud. What harm would telling someone his real name be? The people who 'accepted' him with open arms told him to throw it away, but he never truly understood how something so personal could be tossed aside as carelessly as they wanted him to.

He still had it. He didn't use it, but he still had it.

Just when Hawks made up his mind, opening his mouth to speak, he heard a whimper coming from his left.

Hawks quickly moved his wings out of the way to get a better view at the situation. Atsumu's face was buried in his arms again, a gloved hand digging into his hair and gripping the locks deathly tight. His body shook as he inhaled and shakily exhaled between sobs.

Utterly shocked, Hawks stuttered, "Are.. Are you crying?.." His question only seemed to make it worse, however, as a choked sob came from Atsumu's withdrawn form. A panicked apology left Hawks' lips before he could fully register what was happening. "Hey, hey— I'm sorry, okay, I.. I didn't mean to—"

"It's not your fault!" Atsumu yelled, startling the former although the noise was muffled by the position, "It's mine. It's all mine! Everything that happened, I— I couldn't control it, and now—" Hawks worriedly glanced toward Atsumu's hold on his own hair, deciding it might be a good idea to intervene before Atsumu hurt himself.

"Hey, it's going to be okay— I'm sure you didn't mean anything—" Hawks tried, despite truthfully having no clue what Atsumu was rambling about. He reached out to grab Atsumu's hand, carefully prying it away from his poor hair.

The action slightly moved the glove's hem, exposing some of Atsumu's skin which seemed to cause him to violently jerk away in a frenzy. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" He pulled away, nothing but terror in his eyes, "I'm— I'm a sickness, I don't do anything but make trouble for other people even though I— even though all I wanted to do was..." He cried, sniffling.

Oh god. How was Hawks supposed to deal with..?

"I'm sorry—" Atsumu unexpectedly managed between the bawling, "I shouldn't have... Sorry, you didn't do anything..." He forcefully gulped down the lump in his throat, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands. "I'm a mess. It shouldn't be your problem, just 'cause you're a kid too. I'm sor—"

Hawks couldn't stop himself from cutting Atsumu off. Before either of them knew it, Hawks had wrapped his arms around Atsumu, somehow simultaneously tight and gentle.

"Stop apologizing."

Atsumu sucked in a sharp breath before the waterworks started up again, unsteady hands gripping the back of Hawks' shirt as the shorter boy wept. The former kept mumbling apologies in spite of Hawks' wishes, but he let him get it out of his system. The handler said nothing about the rookie being so.. sad.

Hawks wondered, had Atsumu just been holding this all in for a month? Because he didn't trust any of the grown-ups to deal with his problems? Regardless...

Atsumu definitely needed that hug.

Hawks didn't know it at the time; but he did, too.

🪶

About a year after their mess of an introduction, the people running the HPSC had deemed it a good idea to allow those particular two to spend time together. Atsumu didn't really understand it (and made the fact very clear with his restless theorizing), but Hawks' feathers had managed to pick up some staticky noise about how they 'developed more efficiently when they were together.'

Or something like that.

He just guessed that it meant he and Atsumu were just easier to deal with as long as they weren't separated. Maybe they were similar to how two negative numbers multiplied made the product positive.

While not appreciating how that analogy meant he was a negative number, Hawks admitted that it was partially true. So well played, Commission heads, well played.

Still, it wasn't like every waking moment was some strange playdate orchestrated by the handlers — Atsumu spent a big chunk of his time in a different building, training both his Quirk and studying medicine; and Hawks had his own training to worry about, albeit he was much more advanced than the other considering how long it'd been since he was 'recruited.'

...Admittedly, even if the Commission hadn't constantly put them in the same room, the two would have probably found a way to use up their free time with each other.

Fifteen-year-old Hawks knitted his eyebrows together in concern as he watched Atsumu. The latter flexed his fingers and curiously observed the slow spread of.. whatever it was — it went from the tips of his fingers to his wrists now; it had stopped at the base of his digits when they first met.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" Hawks inquired, understandably wary of this new development, "No stinging or itching or any of that?"

Atsumu took one look at him and chuckled for some reason. Squinting, Hawks scrunched up his face in confusion, his silent way of asking 'What's so funny?' The brunet shook his head in amusement, his voice still carrying a bit of laughter, "You're not very good at putting your feelings on your face."

What was that supposed to mean?

Atsumu shrugged, noticing the other's growing bewilderment. "I mean, you're not that expressive." He pursed his lips, "Like, at all." Of course he had to add that last part just to drive his point home.

Evidently, Atsumu had the exact opposite problem that Hawks (allegedly) did.

"I don't believe you," Hawks argued, internally reflecting on all the times he'd actively felt the muscles in his face move just to express a certain feeling. It was absurd to think that all that had been for naught, right?

"But you should," The brunet stuck his tongue out defiantly, having no regard for his technically-upperclassman, "It's not like any of the handlers'll tell you. They don't care about that type of stuff as long as you do a good job and be a Hero and blah blah—"

"Yeah, so then why does it matter to you, Atsu?" Hawks huffed, raising an eyebrow. He chose not to comment on Atsumu's disrespectful remark towards the Heroes, but it was fine; he knew and understood that his friend never really felt the desire to become one.

Atsumu only hummed in response, apparently taking some time to truly contemplate the reason. After some time, he finally came to the following conclusion: "Well, Heroes are supposed to be liked by the public, right? I think you have to be, like, human for that to happen."

"But I am human."

"You don't act like it!" Came the younger teen's retort, "I can tell how you feel since I know you, but if you told a stranger that you were worried about them being hurt while having the straightest of faces," Atsumu's shoulders slumped dramatically, "I don't know if they'd believe you—

"Which is bad! Because you're a good person and stuff. You just don't show it a lot past the actual.. y'know, Hero thing," The orange-eyed boy gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke, doing his best to get his point across. "You just look so serious all the time."

Pouting slightly, Hawks blew a stray hair away from his face, "Well, that's probably because I have to be — I'm always training, and..."

"Not always," Atsumu interjected, holding up a finger, "Not when you're with me."

Hawks lowered his head in thought, a few loose feathers idly floating around him. He supposed that was true; it was easier to unwind around someone his age, especially someone who shared the same.. abnormal childhood training experience he had.

"How do you manage to do it, then?" Hawks asked directly, "You have so much to juggle all the time, more than I do. But you're so..."

"So what?"

"...Cheerful? I guess?"

"Ha. That's funny. Anyway, to answer your question... I have zero advice. Sorry."

Hawks shook his head. "Then we'll have to work on that some other time," Gently taking hold of one of the other's hands without much resistance, Hawks brought it closer for inspection, "What's all this though? You avoided the question earlier." The blond huffed stubbornly.

Atsumu only shrugged with his free shoulder, making an uncommitted noise, "I honestly don't know either. My handler thinks it's a drawback, but I haven't felt anything."

"Hm. That's odd."

"Obviously, Kei."

🪶

"...Huh? Atsumu— Atsu, are you alrig—"

"Hawks, get your partner under control."

The sixteen-year-old trainee shot the handler a subtle yet absolutely outraged look as he took his friend's shaking form away from them. Hawks shushed Atsumu and rubbed circles on his back, saying nothing about how tightly the latter had clutched onto the back of his shirt.

Hawks turned back to the adult and questioned, "What did you do to him?" He barely held back a glower, "What happened? It's been five days."

Atsumu's handler sighed, looking down both literally and figuratively at Hawks. "What, can't stand being apart from the only colleague you'll know before graduating?" He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered to himself, "Tsk, we knew there were risks of codependency, with your.. animalistic Quirk, but no one thought it'd affect your ability to know your place. Ah... Is this going to be a problem for us, Hawks?" His question only had one answer.

Hawks knew that.

He stole one more glance at Atsumu on the verge of hyperventilating into his shoulder, then lowered his head in the face of authority.

"No, sir."

"Good. Now, get him stabilized, however you manage to do that. You two should be ready for dinner when I come back."

After waiting with bated breath for the door to finally click shut, Hawks pulled away from Atsumu and placed his hands onto the other's shoulders. He worriedly moved to cup Atsumu's face in order to get a better look at him, and vice versa.

"Atsu," Hawks tried, "What happened?"

"...Kei..." The brunet sniffled in response, tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes before rolling down his birthmarks, "...So, so many things... They... They made me—"

Hawks shushed, engulfing Atsumu in another hug before he had the chance to burst into sobs. Atsumu had always been a crybaby since they met. His lows were truly low. He wasn't as young as Hawks was when the HPSC decided to.. mold him into another 'perfect' soldier, and so the difficulty he had adjusting to the whole living situation — it was hard. He knew that.

Judging from how Atsumu's body practically convulsed, clearly sore in some way, Hawks guessed whatever they made him do involved something that hurt.

...Whether Atsumu was the one who got hurt or if he hurt someone else was unclear.

"I hate my Quirk," Atsumu suddenly spoke up, although his voice was muffled by Hawks' shoulder, "I wish I was just Quirkless. This stupid thing hasn't done anything except hurt me and other people..." His grievances devolved into a silent cry as Hawks held him, the older boy unsure how to comfort his friend properly yet figured that doing his best would suffice for the moment.

Several "I'm sorry"s were sprinkled across the lull, Atsumu's habit of apologizing for seemingly nothing and to seemingly no one arising again. It always confused Hawks, but he never wanted to pry...

"Don't say that," Hawks eventually disagreed with Atsumu's first notion, "Your Quirk is incredible. It's capable of saving lives, and reaches places that most healer Quirks can't," He sighed, patting the other's back, "So many people will owe you their lives in the future. Isn't that what you've always wanted? To save people?"

Atsumu did not nod, but he didn't deny it either. Instead, he choked out, "But it hurts."

"...I know."

Hawks didn't know what else to say after that. He could tell Atsumu didn't, either, given the complete silence that overtook them, save for a few sobs from the latter.

Right when he thought Atsumu had dozed off, the boy took a deep breath and sighed shakily. "...I wanna help people," He mumbled, "No matter what anyone else says. I wanna give everyone a chance, 'cause it's not fair that I...

"That I did everything I did, but.. I get to call myself a 'Hero' in like three years," He sniffed, then finally pulled back from clinging to the only friend he had in there. "So I'll do that — help people. Even with the endless classes, the.. training. I can do it. It's fine, I'm—"

"It's okay," Hawks sighed, putting a hand on Atsumu's shoulder. "There's nothing that says doctors have to be 'fine' especially with all the crap they have to deal with on a daily basis."

Atsumu sniffed again, this time bringing up an arm to wipe his eyes. "Whatever, smart guy,"

If it weren't for the situation, Hawks would have laughed at the ridiculous familiarity that Atsumu's antics gave; trying to play everything off as if it were nothing without giving either of them any sort of break to process their feelings.

He'd grow out of it someday, though, so Hawks wasn't too worried about that.

"So how are you feeling?" Atsumu asked, looking at Hawks with his full attention, "I don't ask that as much as I should, even though you're going through.. basically the same stuff as me."

Hawks only shrugged. An unsatisfactory answer, he realized, as Atsumu frowned and hit him with a stray pillow on the floor.

"I'm pretty okay, really," He managed, tone uncertain still. Scratching the back of his neck, he drawled out, "Well. Less okay and more.. used to it all, y'know?"

"...That's fucking sad."

"Shut up."

🪶

"Oh, Hawks-senpaiiiii," A sing-songy voice called out, coated in nothing but malice. At least, in the target's perspective.

"Here we go." The eighteen-year-old Hero in question rolled his eyes playfully as he swiftly stepped to the side, successfully dodging an attack from behind courtesy of his significant other.

Atsumu yelped as he missed, well on his way toward the ground had Hawks not grabbed his hand in time. It was absolutely unnecessary to, but Hawks couldn't stop himself from smoothly twirling Atsumu around before pulling him close — all with a smirk plastered across his face.

Atsumu made a very unconvincing angry face.

"You're so cute," Hawks grinned, taking note of how Atsumu's expression was contradicting his comfortable body language. He loved him, but Atsumu was not a good liar.

Not to him, anyway.

"Stop being condescending!" Atsumu cried out dramatically, lightly punching — tapping, more like — Hawks on the chest.

"You're the one who was calling me by my Hero name instead of your beloved Keigo," He argued, cheekily leaning his face closer to Atsumu's. The latter flushed and immediately looked away, grumbling a series of profanities. Hawks could only chuckle fondly.

The brunet turned up his nose, "It's your fault for being older than me. I still have, what, eight more months of training to go through before I can finally see the outside world once more." He hummed.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, "You're being dramatic. I literally just took you out on a date a few months ago."

"It's not the sameee, Keiii," Atsumu whined, "I should be allowed outside already, even as a doctor! I already have forty-two doctorates!" He crossed his arms, then a heavy sigh came after, "That amount isn't remotely possible for normal people. This is so unfair. I have to study all this and try to keep up with my Hero training, which is just glorified torture at this point, and still—"

Unfortunately for Atsumu and his little tangent, Hawks had developed a habit of kissing him in the middle of various rants. In turn, Atsumu seemingly settled into his own routine of releasing a muffled squeal followed by (eventually) kissing back.

Hawks pulled away with a calm expression, but his eyes practically gleamed with adoration. "You done?"

Atsumu glared, pushing the other's face away with a scoff. "I hate it when you do that..." The almost aggressive reddening of his face betrayed his statement.

"Oh, is that so?"

"Why are you saying that like you don't believe me?"

The former only shrugged, his wings fluttering slightly, "No reason. Hey, I have some paperwork to do for my agency, do you wanna just," He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, pulling a complete one-eighty from his earlier confident persona.

What could he say? For all his teasing, it was rather.. daunting, for a heart as closed-off as his to suddenly waltz into unfamiliar territory. Though, he supposed his heart wasn't as reserved anymore.

Hawks glanced away, the tips of his ears gradually starting to match the color of his wings, "I don't know, really. Just.. do nothing. Together?" His question floated in the air for a bit.

Atsumu thought about it for a bit, his eyes narrowing as he replied, "So you just want me in the same room for no reason?" A shit-eating grin plastered itself onto his pretty face while he did a horrible job at concealing his snicker. "What, do you enjoy my company or something?"

"No shit," Hawks grumbled, putting his hands on his hips. The blush on his face was obscured by the new visor, but his uncharacteristic, shy behavior seemed to tell Atsumu more than Hawks would have liked. "It's a yes-no question, Atsu."

A drawn-out hum from the med student only furthered Hawks' defensive attitude, but the joyful laugh that followed relieved most of the tension in his shoulders.

The brunet hooked his arm around Hawks', giving him a contented smile. "Well, if my beloved Kei doesn't mind me reading up on the different ways to perform mutant Quirk-related surgery..."

"Not at all."

"Then I think we're good to go!" Atsumu declared, "Need a pen? I can lend you one of mine—"

🪶

Nineteen-year-old Hawks chuckled quietly to himself as he watched his newly-established partner mingling with the public from a distance.

"The name is Doc Apollo and I'm looking forward to working with you all!" Atsumu cheerfully introduced himself to the crowd of civilians that had gathered to watch the now-resolved incident. He practically glowed in the daylight, soaking up the praise he got.

Hawks shook his head and sighed affectionately, his focus being pulled back to the police officer he had been discussing the details of the situation with. He reported things clearly and worded his thoughts in a way that would ensure this would be a quick and clean interaction, but he remained ever so patient on the outside. The ruckus from the group fawning over Atsumu rang in his ears, and the proud comments from the former did the same.

After wrapping up his conversation with the authorities, Hawks politely bid farewell and left them to deal with the technicalities of the affair. He swiftly made his way to Atsumu's side with but a single flap of his strong wings, the noise from their audience growing louder.

"Oh, it's Hawks! Look this way, look this way!"

"Hey hey, isn't it such an amazing opportunity to see him in real life?!"

"Thank you for your service, Heroes!"

With a year of official Hero business experience under his belt, it wasn't fresh information that Hawks was very well-received by the public. He was an efficient worker, as well as admired for reasons involving something he'd worked on: Charisma, one could say. The way he carried himself made him shine in the eyes of supporters, causing a spike in his popularity despite how 'new' he was as a Hero.

His hard work paid off; in addition to his good Hero work, no longer was he inexpressive or aloof, like someone had said all those years ago. Yet, it was only a mask — an act he put on for the fans.

At first glance, that didn't seem to be the case for Atsumu.

But Hawks knew better.

He had no doubt in his mind that the outgoing, confident Doctor Apollo would gain positive attention once he debuted. Now that the day finally came, it was almost surreal how intentional Atsumu's innocent, 'youthful Hero' demeanor was.

Yes, he was truly happy to be here — Hawks could tell that much — but the cynical boy he'd grown up with never really changed.

"You two work so well together! And Doc Apollo says he just started?" A journalist pushed their way into the front of the crowd, an audio recording device in hand, "What's up with that?"

"Ah, well," Hawks began, silently taking note of how Atsumu quickly adapted to the speaker and lowering his voice, "Apollo is actually my new partner! We'll be working together a lot from now on, isn't that right?" He hummed, looking toward the aforementioned Hero.

"That is correct, yes," Atsumu confirmed with a nod and a smile too big to be insincere, "It's a great honor! Hawks is such an awesome Hero, after all, don't you guys think?"

Hawks narrowed his eyes at Atsumu in playful accusation as the group of civilians enthusiastically agreed, only getting a cheeky smirk from his boyfriend in return.

How sly of him.

Later, once the ordeal was over and done with, the two Heroes continued their work throughout the day. A tiring, rewarding job, was how Hawks would put it. Atsumu didn't add anything onto the matter.

Eventually, their shift ended, and they stopped by Atsumu's apartment to rest a bit before heading to HQ.

"So, how was it?" Hawks eagerly awaited a response as he carefully took off his visor, examining it for damage before putting it away. "Your debut — it went well, didn't it?"

Atsumu huffed, moving his bangs out of his face, "You could say that," He trailed off, pausing until his next point. He fell down onto the couch, groaning, "But I really don't like dealing with all those people... They're so pushy and excited and loud, and I can't deal with noisy guys very well—"

A hand on his shoulder was all Hawks managed, along with a sympathetic look. "I know. It's okay. Though, you'll have to get used to it; they love you." Atsumu sighed and put his own hand over Hawks' nodding slightly.

The former didn't comment on that claim, however. He grew silent, appearing as if he'd withdrawn back into his thoughts. After a moment or two, Atsumu spoke softly, "Thank you for being there. It made things.. a lot easier for me."

"You did well," Hawks leaned down to press a kiss on Atsumu's temple, getting a defiant murmur in response. He chuckled.

They weren't going to talk about any of the other issues that went on inside either of their heads that day. And that was fine.

This was enough. For now.

#courtesy of saltysaccharin's thumbs #elysian fields #atsukei #they're so sweet awww it would be a shame if anything bad happenwd to them #it's okay they're besties first and foremost <33 #and they were roommates /j #there's a lil bonus after this 😆

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fate-magical-girls · 1 year

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2, 13, and 19

2. A compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

Illyana Rasputin and Janet Van Dyne do the deed with their significant others standing up. Jean Grey and Ororo Munroe do the deed with their significant others mid-air. Dani Moonstar only ever tops and she looks good doing it. Also Koriand'r from DC is mostly a top, and given her preferred partners are Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Roy Harper, and Raven, they probably love her topping. Hal Jordan is extremely versatile, and I bet he spends a lot of time being sandwiched between Ollie and Dinah, neither topping or bottoming.

13. Worst blorboficiation

Hank Pym has it bad. Yes, he's pitiable and affected by his BPD, but he genuinely did unforgivable things, and to this day refuses to handle his BPD responsibly. I genuinely don't think it's out of character for him to backslide into nasty behavior or mood swings once in a while because he keeps himself in a state where he's constantly at risk for it. My hope for him is that if Marvel brings him back, he'll follow his daughter's example and do the responsible thing for himself and his loved ones.

In DC, there's also Bruce Wayne. Everyone wants him to be Batdad, but they never acknowledge that there is something deeply wrong with Bruce's brand of parenting, where he can't establish a proper bond with his kids unless they're in costume going through life and death situations.

In Transformers, probably Starscream. Comes with the territory of being a pretty boy plane.

19. You're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

Hank Pym, as well as the Hank Pym/Janet Van Dyne couple from the comics. Not the MCU, but the comics. The original canon, where they divorced because he abused her. I can't really forgive Hank's mistake, even accounting for his BPD, and I think there should be more focus on how the incident wasn't just Hank's mistake, but also trauma for Janet. Outwardly, she's recovered from it better than Hank did, but that doesn't mean she didn't suffer during the Court Martial of Yellowjacket, and the focus shouldn't just be on Hank's atonement, but also the impact it left on her. Even so, Hank is complicated and despite having some very despicable flaws, also has a very kind and compassionate side to him, so he's interesting to think about. Janet is more of a straight girlboss, but she also has a nasty streak, being a somewhat out-of-touch old money billionaire. They honestly shouldn't be together, but somehow keep gravitating into a relationship. I really, really like thinking of them as a couple that love each other, but also hurt each other, mostly due to Hank's behavior. It's fun in a terrible way to write them having a functional relationship but always teetering on the edge of some sort of toxic codependency because they enable each other at the worst possible times. I have so many terrible, bizarre dead dove headcanons concerning them.

They've probably banged in every corner of all the Avenger HQs, even in incredibly public spaces. Given their powers, sometimes they just shrink and do the deed in plain sight of their friends, but nobody notices them because of their tiny size, except for people with enhanced senses like Tigra or Wolverine.

Hank seriously has a body mod fetish because the two women he's been with both have animal characteristics, and for Jan, he himself implanted her with her wings and seldom-used antennae. He also marks every celebration by gifting Jan with modifications to her powers. However, he's too scared to actually admit this, much less get any tattoos or piercings for himself. He just settles with playing with Tigra's fur and tail or Jan's wings.

Jan likes novelty and insists on bringing something new to every intimate encounter, be it a new position, new food, or new place This is why she insists on having a tryst within every new Avengers HQ within 24 hours of joining. There's also at least once where she and Hank wore Hawkeye and Mockingbird's actual costumes (not cosplay) and ducked into a closet together.

Jan still has MASSIVE trust issues regarding Hank, and so she enjoys kissing Hank while he's unconscious or hospitalized and unable to move. She thinks it's the safest way she can express her desire for him, even though she's aware of the consent issues, and on some level she's ashamed that she feels the way she does. At some point they should just do a trust exercise where one of them closes their eyes and the other person touches them unannounced within the next five minutes. But during her turn, Jan would be the one pushing the envelope by doing things like hair-pulling, biting, and even bending fingers back, all to see if she can actually trust Hank not to react.

Hank has definitely called Jan Maria more than once, and she likes it because it means he sees her on the same level as his oh-so-perfect first wife. They've also visited Maria's grave together, where Hank would get so overwhelmed by emotions that he and Jan would always make out at least once before visit was over, sometimes going even further.

Sometimes Hank gets hypomanic and really, really needs Jan to help work off his energy. They usually have the decency to duck into a closet, but there's also times when Hank's sat Jan right in his lap when the Avengers are at the meeting table and asked the other Avengers if they like what they're seeing.

The short period between Secret Wars and Rage of Ultron was probably the most toxic their relationship has ever been. Hank came back from being almost forever lost in the space between realities with Avengers AI disbanded and Avengers Academy shut down. Jan had been abused and abducted by inverted Alex Summers and fought him off to escape back to the Avengers. This is probably gonna need a new ask to talk about all the horrible ideas I have for that time period.

#ask game

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frostironfudge · 2 years

Text

Could I Find Homeland In You? (Peter Parker One Shot)

Summary: based on the following nonnie's lovely prompt - Can you do a TASM!Peter x fem!reader prompt where they are childhood besties but Peter kinda starts crushing on Gwen but then after he approaches her she turns him down and the reader comforts him until he finally realizes he loves her? Kinda gets angsty when Peter tells her about Gwen bc she has also had feelings for him since forever but refuses to acknowledge them. Best friends to lovers kinda trope... loads of fluff?

hope you enjoy this my sweet nonnie <3

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, italicised words between dividers are past moments between peter and the reader. This is non canon compliant. Peter, Reader and Gwen are in university.

Word Count: 5046

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist // My AO3

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

Don’t look at them, don’t look at them. You chant to yourself, but your eyes do fixate, on his warm grin, bright brown eyes full of mirth. Then you gaze at the person making him laugh, Gwen.

Your heart sinks, you look back down at your notebook, ideas messily strewn across the pages. Lines crossed by ink but not you.

It isn’t that you dislike her, she is a really great person, you admire her work and she is always sweet to you.

It’s just Peter parker is completely taken by her, he hasn’t told you, his childhood best friend yet about how he feels but you can see it as clear as day. Peter blushing when he speaks to Gwen or about her, longingly looking at her when she walks past the two of you.

He doesn’t need to tell you what you already know.

You just wish he would look at you that way.

Because you look at him that way but he never finds your eyes.

“Do you want to continue this later? I’m kind of tired.” You ask the remaining members of the chemistry group project, your mood souring as Peter shifts closer to Gwen, reading the contents on her laptop over her shoulder. her temple resting against his jaw.

Your mind flashes to last week when the two of you were watching the latest episode of Dynasty, that was how you both were, cuddled up the laptop resting on the makeshift pillow stand.

You shake out of the memory looking at your group,

“Yeah.” They agree, you grab your scarce materials, shuffling out the door of the open area, it reverberates a clang upon shutting.

Peter looks up after a while, from the yearbook spread on Gwen’s screen, eyes scanning the area. His eyebrows furrow noticing your absence.

Trevor from your group walks by,

“Hey Trevor where is, Y/N?” Peter’s eyebrows furrow, he promised to come find you for the weekly ice cream date, he looks at his watch, shit, he’s late.

“She left while ago, had a few things left to be discussed, said something about being sick or tired?” Trevor shrugs waving and leaving. Peter feels worry seep in, you were fine this morning?

“Do you want to help with the placement interview later at home?” Gwen smiles up at him, Peter’s gaze softens.

“Um, tomorrow? I have something—someone I need to get back to.” Peter returns her smile, Gwen nods, packing her things and he takes off in search for you.

Peter’s search over campus fails to locate you. He heads to the ice-cream parlour. You’re not there either, he frowns.

Your phone rings but you avoid it, ending the group meet earlier did little to stop your aching heart. Stupid crush on a stupid childhood best friend.

You groan as the phone rings yet again, Peter’s goofy grin takes up the screen.

“Fuck it.” You mumbled answering.

“Y/N where are you? You weren’t even at our ice cream parlour! Are you okay? Trevor said that you’re sick, do I bring in some chicken noodle soup—,” Peter continues rambling as you sigh.

“I’m fine, you seemed too busy for ice cream so,”

“What no? I wasn’t busy.” He defends, you can hear shuffling on his end.

“When did you check your watch?” You ask, knowing his habit.

“Y/N,” He bites his lip, walking up the steps to your dorm.

“You checked it late, so yes, you were busy, with,” You take a deep steadying breath, “with whatever. Peter, just I have papers due. Bye.” You cut the call burying your head into your pillow and groaning, tears sting your eyes. You need to get over this stupid crush on your best friend.

Peter sighs, halting outside your door, balancing the tubs of ice cream and he knocks. His heightened sense picks up your footsteps, he hears the soft placement of your palms on the door frame. As you’re peering through the peephole to check who it is. Even though you know it is him.

You contemplate, but you know he knows you’re standing at the door. The stupid image of him and Gwen won’t leave your mind. He has been spending a lot more time with her.

Peter is grinning, waiting for you outside.

You deadbolt the door.

Peter’s stomach lurches, a crack encasing itself upon his heart.

“Y/N?” His voice barely a whisper, “Why?” The pain permeates the wooden door, onto your own heart.

“Y/N open up.” Peter incessantly knocks at your door.

“Go away.” You say softly through the broken sobs.

“I won’t leave till you open up.”

Peter slides down the door, back touching the door. Heightened sense picking up on the silent sniffles you try stifling.

he smiles as the idea pops up in his mind,

Peter kneels, palms pressed to your door.

He takes a deep breath, “If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea, I’ll sail the world to find you,” He pauses singing, you don’t sniffle, the soft rustling of your sheets tell him you turned.

He bites his grin back, “If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see,I’ll be the light to guide you,”

Peter stands up, drumming his fingers on your door to the rhythm of the song.

“We'll find out what we're made of, When we are called to help our friends in need. You can count on me like one, two, three,

I’ll be there,

And I know when I need it, I can count on you like four, three, two,

And you'll be there,”

He hears the padding of your feet, you undo the lock.

Neither of you make a move to open the door.

“'Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh, yeah” You hesitantly sing, blinking through the tears, opening the door, Peter engulfs you in a warm hug.

And twirls you around, as he hums the tune, both of you singing the song in silly voices now.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you unlock the door.

Peter blinks seeing the door crack open. He steps in, finding you looking down.

“I’m sorry.” He says.

“You don’t even know what to apologise for.” You keep tracing the wooden pattern of the floor with your eyes.

Please look at me, he wishes to say.

“I got ice cream.” He tells you instead.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Whats wrong?” He steps closer and you step back, Peter feels the ache return.

“Y/N, talk to me please.” He begs, making you look at him, his eyes are glassy.

You decide to tell him, bare your heart, uncaring if he stomps on it.

When you open your mouth to speak, a cacophony of sirens graces the silence that you were to fill.

Peter looks distraught, he wants to be there for you, hear you out, but his sense is tingling. You can see it on his face.

“Go.” You gesture with your hand to the window.

“No, you need me.” Peter decides.

“You will guilty if you do not help, Peter just leave.” You press on.

“Y/N, I,” Peter grabs your shoulders, a helicopter whirls past.

“Peter go.” You push away his hands, he sets the bags he carried down, undoing his shirt to reveal the familiar blue and red outfit.

“I’ll be back soon.” He promises as he leaps out of your window, swinging away with precision.

You put the ice creams in the freezer, returning to the bed to sulk again.

———————

He didn’t return that night, shooting you a text at 3 a.m. that he went back home. It was code for I’m injured and will not subject you to see that aspect of this job.

So you throw your sour mood aside, bounding up the steps to Aunt May’s house, to smack some more sense into Peter about his disregard towards life in general.

May greets you with a smile, “Breakfast? I’m making waffles.”

“Thank you, Aunt May.” You nod eagerly, then make your way up the stairs to Peter’s room.

“Hey Peter, so should I lecture you in Spanish since English does not seem to work—oh,” You pause, seeing him on a Skype call with Gwen.

“Hi, Y/N!” She waves, her lab-coat on, so you know she’s at Oscorp.

“Hey.” You respond, the sour mood you pushed away trickling back in.

“Hey, Peach.” Peter grins, his voice wavers, you can see the pink lines of the almost healed wounds across his face and arm.

“Um, Peter… I need to head back, could you, wrap it up?” Gwen’s eyes flicker to you.

“Wrap what up?” You look between the two, you catch the tensing of his shoulders.

“Peach we need to discuss about the yearbook.” He turns to look at you.

“Is the yearbook more important than the internship at Oscorp?” You try to make it sound like a joke, Peter narrows his eyes.

“That is just uncalled for, Y/N you need to apologise.” He looks back at Gwen who seems startled at his colder tone.

“Excuse me?” You ask, looking between the two.

“It really wasn’t rude, Peter—,” Gwen stops when he holds his hand up.

“It was.” Peter looks back at Y/N, expectantly.

“I’m not apologising.” You cross your arms across your chest.

“You were rude.” Peter states, scoffing at your reluctance.

“You know what, just continue the fuck you were doing, and next time make it more fucking believable than yearbook shit, incase you forgot, I’m on the committee and we sent the final draft in last night.” You turn, to walk out.

Peter turns to face Gwen sighing making no attempt to stop you. You make it to the doorway, when your blood turns into frigid tendrils of ice,

“Does she know you’re a certain Spider enthusiast? I was worried when you stepped in injured last night!” Gwen’s voice cuts as though glass through your heart.

Peter swivels in his chair as he hears your shoes squeak on the wood.

“Oh god, shit, I’m so sorry Peter—,” Gwen disconnects the call fearing the damage done.

“So she uses the nickname I gave?” You nod, a bitter laugh bubbling through you.

“She found out, I didn’t tell her like I told you, Peach please—,”

“Just stop it, you’re obviously so in love with her, you want to spend all your time with her. So, it is safe to say that why wouldn’t you trust her to mend your wounds? Or to strategise with you? Know what? I am sorry, I’m sorry for interrupting your date. I’m sorry for thinking that I’m the only one you could trust with this, so much for not wanting to tell anyone so as to not risk them right?” You begin to move away.

“Peach, please listen to me,” Peter grabs your upper arm, as if the physical contact would make you listen.

“No.” You warn, pulling away but his palm is stuck to your sweater.

“Now you have to listen,” He attempts to make a joke.

“I don’t have to listen to your bullshit, Parker.” You set your bag down, pulling the sweater swiftly off of your body, leaving you in the thin material full sleeve crewneck.

“The weather is cold.” Peter reasons.

“No, what is cold is you icing me out, for weeks, if you wanted to spend all your time with Gwen, you could have told me, I would have backed off, not that you could understand anyways. She can be your best-friend and girlfriend.” You grab your bag, he webs it into his free hand.

“Understand what?” Peter feels frustration coursing through him, this conversation is what he wanted to have in a quiet and safe space with you. Not like this, not with your turning away from him.

“I’m done wasting my time.” You run down the steps before he can make sense of your words, calling out a frantic goodbye to May, you half run home.

Peter runs after you, but you’re lost in the crowd, “Fuck.”

“May, I’m going behind, Y/N.” He calls out bounding up to his room, your sweater finally unsticking from his hand. He quickly puts your bag pack on his shoulders as he swings out of his window.

He stops on the fire escape outside your window, your curtains are drawn but he can hear your sniffles. Peter swallows the lump that is caught in his throat.

You look at the picture of the two of you framed on the desk, from the day of the high school graduation, you’re smiling at the camera but Peter smiles at you.

Peter hears the crash of glass and then the door of your bathroom, he quietly enters your dorm, the picture frame now on the floor, he takes off his mask. Carefully picking it up and clearing it of the broken pieces.

“Alright you two, come on, smile!” Aunt May cheers as she takes a picture, you grin at the camera, not noticing Peter smiling down at you.

“We did it Peach!” Peter ruffles your meticulously styled hair, you grab his hand.

“Peter, this took two hours!” You whack his hand away.

“Ow!” He feigns being hurt.

You roll your eyes, “So a freight truck hits you and you’re fine but if I hut you it hurts. Noted. Spider Enthusiast has several issues with pain perception.” You whisper to him.

Peter laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. Just the way you’ve come to adore.

“So where are you two off to celebrate graduating?” Your aunt questions as she and your uncle walk up to you both.

“Just Harry’s party,” Peter answers offering them a smile.

Your uncle shakes his hand and pats his back. “Proud of you son. Proud of the two of you, can’t wait to see how you both taken college by storm.”

Peter’s eyes cloud with unshed tears, at your uncle’s gesture.

Your aunt and aunt May hug you,

“God, just a little baby and now all grown up.” Aunty May squeezes your cheek like always.

You smile at them.

“Your parents would be proud of you.” You aunt says, tucking your stray lock of hair back.

You find Peter’s encouraging gaze, he gives you a knowing smile. The topic of your parents was one that you only discussed with him, you both met at the funeral held for them, being neighbours your friendship blossoming in finding comfort within each other.

“I think yeah, they would have.” you hesitantly agree, not having the best relationship with them.

Peter walks towards you, grabbing your hand, you give the intertwined limbs a squeeze. A silent thank you.

He squeezes back.

Peter gathers the broken glass in a web, putting in in a discarded box, placing it in the garbage.

He places your bag down on the bed, writing a note,

‘Peach,

I’m really sorry, there is this thing that involves that company, you know I want you as far from all of this, hell I want everyone close to me safe.

I’m an idiot, ice cream today? My treat.

Please give me the chance to explain.

Peter.’

He hears the bathroom door and he swiftly slips out, wearing his mask standing on the fire escape again.

You sniffle, wiping your eyes again. Your expression furrowing when you see the glass missing and the frame back in place on your desk.

You look around, inspecting the room, your bag there with a note.

Reading over you, clench your jaw.

“Chance to explain?” You scoff, “What is he going to say that I don’t already know? Oh I took Gwen to this cute spot at the park so I got late, oh Gwen and I were planning to taken down the company she works at because the boss is actually a weird fucking goblin.”

Peter’s head snaps to your voice in confusion, he knows you are rambling and ranting but the fact that you said goblin is just bafflingly astute. He lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Chance to explain my foot.” He hears the paper crumple then the ball of it bounce twice before he hears you lay on your bed.

He places his hand on the window glass, heart aching to reach out to you. He knows you need space to think through before he can speak to you.

Things slow down around Peter, New York City almost standing still, he shifts his gaze all along the horizon, his head snaps upwards.

Peter crawls the wall, shooting a web to the Goblin’s hover board passing from above and the other web catching his little bomb and sticking it onto the board.

The Goblin looks down at the source of rapid beeping, then Peter waves from underneath, “Hey, remember me?”

Before the final beep Peter pushes off before the blast occurs, throwing the Goblin off course.

———————

Peter leans back into the booth at the diner Gwen had taken him to on the night he accidentally revealed his identity.

It had been about two weeks since you both had spoken coherently. You were ignoring him, buried yourself in coursework. He couldn’t hold that against you.

Peter picks at the plate of pancakes, maybe he could hold it against you.

Gwen has reached out to you and much to his dismay, the two of you had cleared the air, she even teased him (at your request) saying there was an initiation ceremony to be inducted into the super secret ‘Spiderman Personal Identity Defender Expert’s Regulation.’ Or S.P.I.D.E.R.

If he wasn’t so worried he would laugh at the name you came up with.

“We need a guild or group.” You say, you’re upside down on the couch. Looking up at Peter who is currently on the ceiling.

“For what?” He questions, fixing the loose screws of the lamp.

“You know for like our team.” You straighten up as he jumps down without a thud.

“Our team?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes cause being a hero isn’t a one person job. You need research assistants, intel gathering interns, hackers, maybe a security detail, ohhh maybe cool weapons or sniper web shooters.” You grin at the prospects.

Peter adores your enthusiasm and the plethora of good ideas you’re giving, his smile falters as reality kicks in and dread trickles down his spine,

“Woah, Woah, let us not get ahead of ourselves? I told you only because I trust you. The less people know the better.” He explains taking a seat.

“They won’t know who you are? Only I will.” You shrug.

“Right. They’ll be in danger.” He tries making you understand.

“Okay so why don’t I be there to help?” You look hopeful, you only suggest because it would help dissipate the anxiety that bubbles through you about his safety. The first time you saw him bleeding, battered and bruised, it scared the life out of you.

“Peach,” Peter sits in front of you, hands on your knees, “You have college ahead of you—,”

“You do too.” You cut him off.

“Yes well, I don’t have extra curricular activities lined up because of being well a menace to the city.” He scrunches his nose at the line.

You giggle, cupping his cheek, heat blooms within you as his eyes are on you.

“Look Peter, I know I have things lined up, so do you. It would ease my worry and help you do your work.” You hope he understands.

He holds your hand under his, still against his cheek.

“I’ve lost several people, I don’t want you to be one of them. Please just be Peter’s Peach. Not Spiderman’s right hand who he would die without.” He chuckles.

“You still would die without my minimal involvement.” You deadpan.

“And for your continued graciousness, Spiderman is at your eternal handyman service.” He grins and you laugh.

Gwen smiles as she settles into the booth,

“What did you want to talk about?” She looks at Peter curiously.

He looks up, offering her a smile, nervousness courses through him. You would have teased him for being this nervous. Usually he is the smooth talker between the two of you. He smiles at the thought of you trying to make him confident to broach this subject.

“I,” He lets out a breath, “I wanted to know if you would,” He stops again, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders.

“Gwen Stacy,” He begins,

“Peter Parker,” She laughs, he chuckles.

“I well, I have liked you since a while and I was wondering if you would like to go out with me.” He says it in sort of a rush and when he looks at Gwen, really looks at her he pales.

“Oh Peter, I’m,“ Gwen looks around struggling for the words, “I don’t feel the same. I see you as a friend really. Honestly I thought you and Y/N have something brewing…” She trails off nervously toying with her coffee mug.

“Why, why would you think that?” The rejection doesn’t hit him as hard as he thinks it would. He takes in Gwen’s words as they reverberate through his mind.

“Well you both honestly move around each other like magnets?” Gwen nervously laughs, “You both have this dopey happy grin on your faces, when you speak of each other.”

Gwen thinks over the other observations she has collected over the eight to nine months you all have been introduced to each other.

“You search her out all ways.” Gwen says softly, a smile on her face.

“I, I, don’t—,” Peter stops, did he do that?

“You do, on campus, off campus. You look around and when you see her you just have this look on your face. Full of admiration and love? I don’t know I see that she feels deeply for you and I think that happened even before you became you know,” She gestures towards him, “A Spider Enthusiast.”

“Not one picture are you looking at the camera.” Aunt May huffs at Peter, but smiles knowing who his eyes are upon.

“What, no, there must be one.” Peter grabs the printed photos sifting through them.

“See here!” He says after a few minutes of searching.

“Your eyes are to the side, Peter…” Aunt May runs her hand through his hair,

“Oh, yeah, Y/N was speaking to Flash.” He explains.

“It is nice that you look out for her. Do you think there could be more to it?” She doesn’t mean to pry but watching the two of you be there for each other from the death of your parents to the death of Uncle Ben.

Hell he even fought for you to remain in the city so you wouldn’t be whisked away to San Diego with your Aunt and Uncle.

“No, May, I don’t think so…” Peter sounds unsure, it would be great but he knows you would never feel that way.

Peter checks into reality, his eyes scan over the diner, then land on Gwen.

He does not utter a word he doesn’t need to, Gwen offers an encouraging smile.

“That is what you do, subconsciously look for her.”

“Do you, do you think she will forgive me?” Peter toys with the tissue paper dispenser.

“I think she will hear you out.” She answers.

“What if, what if she doesn’t want to be with me?”

“Then you can try to mend your friendship.” Gwen shrugs, setting the mug down.

“Look Peter, you’re just now realising that you have more than a best-friend’s worth of feelings for her. Even if she does reciprocate the feelings you will have to go on dates, try dating.” Gwen has a fond smile on her lips.

“You sound like you know what it is like?” Peter wonders if she had someone like that, before college.

“I did, he and I were best-friends in high school and one day just,” Gwen loses words, still smiling at the memories.

“Is he still? I mean I’m asking because I don’t want to be disrespectful and I didn’t know.” He begins to ramble.

“Oh god, no uh, he and I decided to part ways he wanted to go to the UK and I wanted to stay here. I’m sorry if I sort of lead you on…” Gwen rubs the back of her neck the conversation treading towards awkwardness.

“I’m sorry for misinterpreting and just you know…” Peter trails off.

“Friends?” He asks, offering a handshake.

“Oh yeah totally, but I think being in S.P.I.D.E.R. makes me an employee? So you know boss and employee friendships, bad idea.” Gwen laughs and for a minute Peter is confused before he grins.

“Go to her, she might either be at Flash’s party, or the library.”

“How—How do you know?” Peter looks taken aback.

“Well I sort of thought I would be playing messenger but seems like I’m playing cupid.” Gwen shrugs.

“Thank you.” Peter smiles as he rises from his seat.

“Anytime, send me a cute couple selfie!” Gwen calls out but he’s out before she can complete the sentence.

—————————

Peter tries calling you but it goes to voicemail. You aren’t at the library nor are you at Flash’s party.

He sighs feeling defeated when your home turns out to be empty as well.

Begrudgingly he walks back home, Aunt May greets him at the door.

“Is everything okay?” She wonders as he steps in seemingly defeated.

“No.” He wraps his arms around her.

“Oh Petey, what’s wrong? Did Gwen say no?” She runs her hand through his hair, the gesture a reminiscent of comfort.

“I, I’ve been in love with Y/N. All this time, Gwen made me realise that, she says I look out for her where ever I am, and I do that. It gives me comfort she is near me. May, I’ve I’ve thought about it, but I didn’t think she would feel the same ever.” Peter explains.

“Did you ever ask her how she feels?” May pulls away from the hug, cupping his cheek, he shakes his head.

“I think I’ve been too scared to lose her.” He admits.

“Why are you hanging out with him?” Peter questions your hanging out with Flash after your weekly ice cream date.

“We’re in the same project group and I would like an ‘A’.” You shrug, “Why?”

“Do you like him?” Peter asks and you scoff.

“Peter what are you trying to get at?” You stop walking.

“Just if you have a crush on him.” Peter tries appearing unbothered though it does bother him.

“I don’t like him. It is cute you’re jealous though.” You giggle, poking his nose.

“I’m not jealous.” He narrows his eyes.

“Okay,” You say and his tensed shoulders relax, “Whatever you say you lil jealous baby.”

You run off as he chases after you laughing till you tumble through May’s front door.

“Would you tell her how you feel?” She smiles at him.

“I would.” He admits, smiling, feeling no ounce of nervousness in his feelings for you.

“Go on she’s upstairs.” May pats his back, “Go be with her.”

Her encouragement is all he needs, as he takes two steps at a time to reach his room.

You drop the book you were reading at his frantic entry in the room.

“Are you okay?” You eye him up to down worried, “Did Gwen say no?” You wonder as May told you what his plan was, she could see the turmoil in your eyes.

“No.” Peter steps towards you.

Your heart drops, “Oh, well congratulations I guess—,”

His lips taste like mint and honey, your eyes widen then close.

Peter Parker is kissing you, Peter Parker is kissing you, your mind screams.

You abruptly pull away. His woodsy scent still lingering in your senses.

“What—, Peter, you just said she—,”

“No, she said no and she made me realise something that I’d been ignoring.” Peter knees now eye level with you, his hands resting on your knees.

“I’m highly confused.” You admit.

“Y/N, I’ve been stupid,”

“I agree to that.” You giggle.

Peter looks at you,

“Continue.” You pretend to zip your mouth.

He takes a deep breath,

“I’ve been stupid, I had who I wanted in front of me, I see you out in every place I am, hell even if we are together you’re all I want to see, I get jealous when another guy has your attention. I want it to be me, I want to, I want to be your date. Well several dates then ask you to be my girlfriend. I’d take you to out ice cream parlour and write it on the cup like I asked you to be my best friend.”

Your sniffle stops his ramble.

“I, do you, do you?” Peter questions.

“Peter are you saying this because Gwen said no and you’re settling?”

His features soften, “Peach, I’ve been incredibly stupid to not act on the feeling that I had before, Gwen told me she thought we were a couple, or something was going on, hell May asked me after graduation.”

“You’re sure? Cause I can’t take another heartbreak from you.” You admit, playing with the sleeve of his jacket which rests on your knee.

“Let me take you out on a date to show you how serious I am.” He cups your face.

You hold onto his forearms.

“Okay.” You say quietly, Peter’s smile shines brightly.

“I’m going to take you on the best date ever.” He promises.

Your gaze falls onto his lips, he bites his bottom lip.

“Can-Will you kiss me again?” You ask, blushing.

“As many times as you want, my Peach.” He smiles, leaning in.

Peter’s lips feel perfect against yours his scent envelops you, the mint and honey taste sweetly addictive.

Peter, shifts closer, your lips some how taste akin to peaches. He smiles in the kiss.

He feels as though he is holding his homeland between his hands.

The person who he could belong to, be with, with whom he would fall in love.

Your hands inch towards his hair, you both only break apart for a moment, before his kiss bitten lips brush against your nose, your blush intensified.

“Can’t wait to be yours Peach, you’re my homeland, seek you out wherever I can.” He whispers against your lips, as he pulls you in for another kiss.

-x-

262 notes · View notes

notnctu · 3 years

Text

forever | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - slow burn, angst, fluff ❀ details - hogwarts!au, exes to lovers!au, ft. boyfriend!jaehyun ❀ word count - 8.4k ❀ warnings - explicit language, small mention of violence and injury ❀ synopsis - in which an ambitious slytherin and a loyal hufflepuff find their way back to a forever love.

❝ I'll love you forever, Doyoung.❞

❝ You will?❞

❝ Yes, that’s the problem.❞ ❀ a/n - here is PART 2 to PUSH & PULL. This is also written in part of @danishmiilk’s OF WITHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY COLLAB. you can read it as a stand alone fic since p&p has smut, i wrote it with intentions of a new story but with the same relationship and characterization. if anything, reading the other parts just gives a little more background to the relationship. Marking and some details are not canon to HP! I focused a lot less on the competition and more on the relationship.

Seasons change, and along came an end that you had dreaded. Your relationship with Doyoung may have lasted through its trials, but it’s hanging by a thread and every loose end.

Through all the misfortune, your etched Patronuses have slowly begun to lose their light and are practically invisible. It feels out of your control, every time you look into the mirrors, you wished that your eyes deceived you. You wished that it was a curse upon your reflection because there was no possibility that you could ever fall out of love for your Slytherin Boy.

But it happened. You and Doyoung meet your pitiful breakup. The displayed love mark that was supposed to last forever faded into nothingness.

Doyoung sits at the edge of his neatly made bed, with his head in his hands. He refuses to look you in the face, knowing that every spoken word will only make the hurt show too evidently. “I think we deserve different people.” The worst thing Doyoung has ever encountered is a sad Hufflepuff and he wonders how long he’s been ignoring your signs.

To simply put, you lost your light and joy. Every source of the sun seeped from your skin and you walked in the halls with the most beautiful bright glow. Doyoung was never able to look away, you were the light he was attracted to. So when did it all go wrong?

While you reassured him many times that public affection and attention was not needed, you couldn’t help but regret your words of comfort. Doyoung remained rather cold in the public halls. Every public moment together felt wrong, as if he was always on the lookout for spectators. He wouldn’t hold your hand and though his acknowledgement of your existence was a bit more improved, it was still hard to date him when he could only smile at you in the halls.

As a true-blood Slytherin, Doyoung was not raised to be openly affectionate to others. Through strict parenting and a hostile family environment, he couldn’t learn an ounce of how to love someone properly. He wanted so badly to change, but he couldn’t. The thought of that alone caused him to feel all the worst feelings. Every negative thought muddled his brain, he felt insufficient and lost every ambition to care.

“Different people?” There is an edge to his voice and he stares at the wooden ground below.

There has been a small gut feeling that festered in the midst of your relationship. Before Doyoung’s confession, you were convinced that this sheltered Slytherin boy would prefer someone from his own house, someone with commonality. When things began to go array, that feeling seemed to solidify unhealthily in your heart.

You started to notice his confidence when speaking to other Slytherin girls. Through lighthearted bickering, a slight sense of competition and comradery, he seemed so comfortable with them.

“That’s correct. Maybe we can’t give each other what we need.” Your voice lost its song, like a dagger that pierces through his heart.

He hates to admit it. He hates this throbbing pain in his chest, it’s worse than any jinx or spell. He’d rather hit the brick wall at the 9 and three quarters platform than to experience this pathetic heartbreak.

“Fine. Take your leave, then.” He mutters, and with the flick of his finger, the door slams open. The immediate drift picks up the ends of your robe, but your focus remains on the boy that you once loved. He stays hunched in his own being, expressionless and cold. It’s as if every sweet moment with him never existed and the pain that lingers in your chest chokes you up.

“Just like that? You don’t even want to fight for us?” Every last hope diminishes. Doyoung finally looks up at you, fire in his eyes and every vein in his neck protruding.

“I can’t give you what you want, so find it with someone you deserve.” The twisted words leave a bad taste in your mouth. Doyoung may seem calm and unwavering on the outside, but his heart has broken into unfixable pieces.

With a puff of your chest, you storm out of his room and never look back. Every voice in your head, even the ghosts that linger the stairs, is telling you to turn around and to fight for him. But you fight to smile on your way out, holding back every tear that will drown you for the rest of your days.

As days turn into months, Doyoung can’t seem to shake you off of his mind. He tried to sleep around, tried to see other people like you had suggested, tried to even date someone for a hot second. In the end, he is alone and rotting in the most horrible stench of competition and jealousy.

It might’ve only been a month after the breakup that Doyoung spots the worst sight upon his entire years of being alive --- you being paraded in the arms of a Gryffindor right in the center of the Great Halls. Under the floating candles and in the midst of the chaotic crowd of wizards and witches, he sees the direct crowd that has gathered around you and Jaehyun. The most beautiful smile appears on your face as you’re linked arm in arm with the Captain of the Quidditch team and for a moment, Doyoung is lost in you.

Nonetheless, he is brought back into his reality when Jaehyun turns his head and their eyes meet. The single smirk on the dimpled boy’s lips is enough to make Doyoung’s fist clench around his wand. But you wouldn’t want him to hurt Jaehyun. You wouldn’t like that one bit. Doyoung exasperates a heavy sigh and blinks away from the tantalizing image of the two of you.

The pain in his chest is enough reminder of everything he has lost. You and the chance to get you back, all slipping away at his fingertips. At this point, you don’t even acknowledge his presence at all. You haven’t spoken to him since the day you left his chambers. What is he when the friendliest person at Hogwarts ignores him? You were the one source of love that felt kind and unconditional.

There must be a way for him to prove himself, for him to regain a sense of confidence after this miserable defeat. He needed to find himself, to better himself as a wizard and as a person. Doyoung distracted himself with his studies, missing events with friends and oftentimes skipping past the Great Hall and common room.

He roamed the library as if it was his second home. Dusty, tall shelves of heavy old scriptures and spells, he learned and studied them all. Late nights servicing the halls would be when he’d recite spells and potion mixes to practice retention. Sooner or later, Doyoung became one of the top wizards in his year.

Then came an opportunity that Doyoung never thought of pursuing. This is the first year of the TriWizard Competition recommencement and the first time that it became a Hogwarts exclusive event, as it shifted to one representative from each house was selected by the Goblet of Fire to participate. After the tragedy of Cedric Diggory, the competition was suspended for over two hundred years, until all the revisions of the events had been made and safety was ensured.

Doyoung, with the encouragement of his fellow posey, scribbles his name on a torn piece of paper and approaches the intimidating cup of blue heat. It seems even more deadly up close, Doyoung could barely take his eyes off of it.

The way the paper burns into the flames astonishes the young ambitious Slytherin. His name entered the raffle successfully and while everyone cheered and clapped for his bravery, you stood nowhere near the scene to support him. That devastation is enough to drag his heart into the pit of his stomach.

Later that evening, as everyone gathers in the Great Hall for the grand selection, the blazing blue fire stands in the center with such threatening flames. When the headmaster’s voice rumbles for everyone’s attention, the selection process eagerly awaits the noble students.

Doyoung holds his breath; Are the odds against or with him?

“For the House of Gryffindor,” The blue flames turn a ruby red, swirling into the air with gusto and spitting out a tiny paper that drifts slowly into the headmaster’s hand. “Jung Jaehyun!”

The hall roars with celebration and loud applause for the popular boy. Doyoung watches as you get up to embrace Jaehyun, and he pulls the most hideous stunt for all to see. Jaehyun pulls you in by the waist and gives you the most saccharine kiss on the lips, fueling the fire in Doyoung’s own eyes.

“Life has its favorites.” Yuta tsks at the sight, mumbling for only Doyoung to hear. However, Doyoung is trained on the next announcement ahead.

“For the House of Slytherin,” Doyoung feels his throat go dry, the anticipation practically killing him. He shuts his eyes and hopes on every powerful wizard that his name is called. “Kim Doyoung!”

His eyes shoot open and absolute joyful chaos erupts from the Slytherin tables. Yuta hurries him to stand on his feet, congratulating his friend for being chosen. Applause continues to fill the room and Doyoung is star struck at the wildness and dazzling attention. It’s as if the dull Great Hall exploded with gold specks of exhilaration and his heart feels full with aspiration.

“Now you have more of a reason to win.” Yuta smirks, pushing his friend to make his way toward the front of the room. For once, Doyoung soaks up the praise and excitement that bubbles for him. Nervousness, eagerness, and ambition fill his lungs as he takes his place next to Jaehyun.

Every ounce of glory is found at this very moment. All the hours sacrificed in the library, hidden between large shelves full of traditional magic, paid off. Pride circulates his veins with glee with the taste of victory right at the tip of his tongue. He feels reborn.

“Congratulations.” Jaehyun extends his hand for Doyoung to shake, the most arrogant smirk plastered on the Gryffindor's face. “Consider this more than a competition for the TriWiz Cup.”

“Only a Gryffindor would try to compete over love.” Doyoung rolls his eyes, but bites his cheek as he scans the large crowd for your reaction. He can’t forget that amongst the crowd, you sit gazing upon all the action as well. “But congratulations, I suppose. She settled for a cocky, over confident wizard that knows nothing about love.”

“I guess she has a type, then? You and I don’t sound too far apart.” Jaehyun chuckles mockingly and Doyoung swallows harshly at his statement. However, Doyoung’s pride is well and revived. The sting can barely be felt in all the numbness of his heart.

You watch Doyoung at the front of the room with a great worry settling in your chest. While you tried to seem happy like the rest of the room, there are so many concerns that drown out the applause. He’s in way over his head, you thought to yourself.

The breakup was not easy, in fact, it was the worst thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. And you can’t even admit that you’re completely over Doyoung. Nevertheless, Jaehyun swooped in on his broom after one of his Quidditch practices quickly after it happened to lend an ear. One thing led to the next and you two made promises to each other that you wanted to see through.

Did that stop your heart from yearning for Doyoung? Absolutely not.

Did that stop your brain from replaying every moment you two shared? You couldn’t forget him.

Did that stop your eyes from looking for him in the crowd? Momentarily.

The only thing that you could stop yourself from doing was approaching him, as it came quite easily when he barely ever acknowledged you in the first place. But the silence must be broken, even briefly, as you knew deep down in your heart the one defining trait that made you a Hufflepuff to your core, was the loyalty to this man remained strong.

As the commencement came to an end, you made your way to catch Doyoung before he left. Everything left on your chest was ready to be said until you stood face to face with the person you once loved.

Doyoung feels a light touch on his arm, spinning around to see your figure before him. His mouth opens slightly, unaware how to interpret your sudden appearance and an odd sense of resentment fuming in his chest.

“Why?” It’s all that you could say, seeing him up close again chokes you up. In the low light, you both examine each other’s tired features and every ounce of sparkling light is gone. Dark circles paint his under eyes, his cheeks look rather sullen, and the frown that pulls at his lips are details that tell you more than words can.

Doyoung scoffs at your pitiful demeanor and he feels a bit apologetic that you can’t seem to look him in the eye. Your shoulders slump forward, fingers twisted in your palms, and averting gaze wears down your confidence. You’re almost unrecognizable. “Pardon me?” The amount of attitude that laces his words is venomous.

“Why did you enter your name? You’re going to get hurt.” You bite back the urge to explode. His sudden aloof behavior feels cold; ice against your skin causes a chill down your spine. A sense of discomfort and it just all seems so wrong, the stiff tension between the two of you is too thick to ignore.

“It’s quite humorous that you’re concerned for me rather than your attention seeking boyfriend.” He always gets the last word, a dry chuckle and he’s walking away with a darkness that surrounds him.

Doyoung should feel faltery, that you of all people are concerned for his safety and wellbeing. But he doesn’t and instead, takes your intentions as undermining his abilities as a wizard. You no longer know of his greatness and the extent of his knowledge. He wanted to change, to better himself as a wizard and he did. How easy it is for heartbreak to ignite ambition.

However, as you watch his figure disappear in the corridors and the trail of terrible feelings that linger from him, you wonder, who has he suddenly become?

It had been incredibly unsettling nights after you had approached him. Sleepless nights had him wondering off about how he could have handled the situation better.

It is true, he was rather harsh due to the immediate rivalry between him and Jaehyun, your current boyfriend. Along with the sheer fact that you asked nothing more, than to question him about his decision to join the greatest competition of the century. You couldn’t even congratulate him, celebrate him.

After all the silence, all the avoidance, your first words to him are why? So in his right, he felt anger and resentment that you barely took time to grieve over the relationship as he is. He is suffering inside over you while your new relationship is on public display.

Nonetheless, you seemed so dull and even more drained than before. It was hard to ignore how reserved and timid you had gotten. Just how does someone who used to light up the room, heads turning at her entrance, become part of the background so easily?

So with more thought, he wondered if you were alright. Were you getting enough sleep? Were your exams treating you well? Did you eat enough today?

Overall, he felt apologetic at the thought of his rash responses and jealous behavior. All this fire blinded him so much to where he couldn’t see your pain right in front of him.

Doyoung is frustrated at all his over analyzing, his annoying thoughts about you and your actions. The first task of the competition was approaching faster than ever, yet you are the only thing on his mind.

Doyoung has faced one of his greatest challenges in his whole wizard career. Task one will haunt his dreams and thinking of task two keeps him well awake. How will he possibly get any sleep during the competition?

Task one had him thrusting between the towers of the school on a mere broomstick as dangerous dragons hunted him down. This may have been the only moment when the textbook on mythical creatures actually came into rescue.

Doyoung knew his flying routes like the back of his hand and the magical properties of several dragons, his biggest challenge was to remember which spells combat them as he steered hundreds of meters above ground.

Although the ends of his robe did singe from the fiery breaths, he managed to retrieve his golden egg in one successful piece. Jaehyun finished before him by a few minutes, already rubbing the fresh wound with a victory kiss and wearing you on his arm like the true prize.

Though it stung to see your celebration for him, the cheers for Slytherin as second place distracted him from permanent agony and disappointment. It was one hurdle completed, with impeccable skill, strategy and speed.

His next challenge is to figure out who he is going to dance with for the Yule Ball, given that the competitors open the ball with a first dance. And of course, he’d wish for no one other than you to be spinning and smiling in his arms.

The frosted evergreen trees stand at the front of the Great Hall. Snow drifts down from the ceiling in falling white specks of glitter. It’s almost unrecognizable, how astonishingly well decorated it is for the Yule Ball.

Intricate glass carved sculptures sit beautifully as center pieces on large clear round tables. Dazzling floating icicles frame the tips of the front mantle, replacing the usual floating candles that lit the room. Winter graces every corner of the room in the most elegant way, just breathtaking at how bright and white the atmosphere has become.

Doyoung refused to look your way the entire night, knowing very well you’re incomparable to the beautiful decorations. You have always been the centerpiece, without even trying. Effortlessly breathtaking, and that is the sole reason he avoided every possible glance on the dance floor during the tournament champions’ first dance. In his mind, you’re dancing with him and no one else in the room was important enough to take that moment away from him.

Despite every effort, he still sees you in the midst of all the chaos. Doyoung chokes up at the sight of you. You sit alone, in a ballgown made for the grandest witches and with lipstick that paints your lips an eye catching ruby red. Your hair is nicely made to frame your features and there is a soft glow that kisses your skin.

Everything about you just makes his knees weak and heart racing, enough to make his throat close. Some passing peers may have noticed tiny stars in his pupils, but they must understand that the pure feeling that comes from looking at you is more than he can explain.

And you look nothing like how you did nights ago in the dark hall outside the Great Hall. Whatever agony that had painted your face was now washed away. Your spark resumes for this one evening, and Doyoung can’t look away any longer.

He swallows harshly, you look too beautiful to be left alone. Doyoung scans the room for Jaehyun, who cluelessly chuckles with his huddled group of friends at some other corner of the room. A fire grows within the pit of his stomach and he is confused at the passionate feelings that hit him all at once.

Anger, envy, confusion. Jaehyun is such a fool to leave you sitting alone. Jaehyun is such a fool. Doyoung notices the twiddling of your thumbs and the most evident pout on your glimmering face.

Doyoung doesn’t know what compels him to walk toward you. Could it be the sudden change in song? The melody and his heart pulls toward you unknowingly. He swore that he wouldn’t give you one look tonight, and now he faces the consequences of your gravitational pull. He stands before you with a pounding and shy heart, doe-like eyes round in utter shock at how he managed to approach you.

“May I have this dance?” Doyoung stammers, unsure of your reaction. He opens his palm for you to take. It has been quite some time since you two had last spoken, the bad taste of confrontation the night of the champions selection. Though Doyoung half predicted that you’d brush him away, the greatest shock and adrenaline fills his system when he feels your warmth glide into his hand.

He takes you to the dance floor, among the few pairings that sway to the slow tempo song. Your arms wrap around his neck so naturally and his hands find their way around your waist. The close proximity feels foreign, being that it has been quite awhile since the last time you two have been intimate like this. Ever since your breakup, you two distanced yourselves so far from one another.

The swelling of your chest cannot be ignored as Doyoung’s face is only inches away from your own. The taste of his gentle lips bursting into your foggy memory, wondering if they still tasted the same. He just looks as beautiful as ever with his suit neat on his shoulders. And his gaze upon yours is enough to cast a spell on you.

Doyoung gives you something that Jaehyun does not. A sense of comfort, familiarity, and serenity surrounds you in Doyoung’s embrace. Every lightest touch feels right where you’d want to be. Everything with him feels right, like the missing piece of the puzzle. Doyoung feels like home. This brief moment with him is minimal, but it proves more than anything you’ve felt in the recent months of your new relationship.

Standing so close before you may cause him to lose his wits. His chest twists in knots, the sole aching of his broken heart yearns for you so painfully. He misses you beyond any knowledge, every memory of being in love with you flashes before him so quickly, and he can’t hold onto them. Being here, dancing with you, may be one of the happiest moments he’s had in the last few months.

“You look rather stunning tonight.” Doyoung speaks with a gentleness that reminds you of your past. All the moments of shyness, of soft compliments that were rare for him to say, every moment that caused your heart to soar. How do his words have such a strong effect on you?

The way your heart beats for Doyoung is different. It is evidently loud, a drum in your ears that drones out anything else. It is consistently wishing to be his. You wished you were his.

Then something clicks within you, this feeling is never going to go away. You blink up at the starry-eyed boy, and he’s like every dream come true under the winter hue. Doyoung makes you feel magic that no other wizard can. A love that is more powerful than the Amortentia. A love unlike anything you’ve ever come across. A love that will never fade, and that’s what scares you deep down inside. You are his until the day your heart decides to let go.

Doyoung takes your silence as a form of hesitation, with fear that you’re still angry at him for participating in the competition and for his previously harsh behavior. “I apologize for my behavior in our recent encounter. Is there anything you’d like to say to me?” He asks, knowing that the song is quickly coming to an end and the scarce time is running out.

Lost in realization and contemplation, your heart speaks before you can catch your tongue, “I’ll love you forever, Doyoung.”

His eyes widen and quite frankly, your statement causes him to stop in his movements. You two stand still in the middle of an empty dance floor, in each other’s arms and eyes locked. Doyoung feels a lump in his throat, knowing how horribly wrong he was to not chase after you the night you two broke up.

If he had his hands on the time turner, he’d use it to right all his wrongs. He could better himself all he wanted, he could study until he’s the top of the entire school, he could win the whole TriWizard Competition, but none of those will fill the empty void of his heart. That is not where his happiness can be found. His happiness is found within you.

“You will?” He questions, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. Nonetheless, the grip on your waist tightens and he’s pulling you in closer to him. He searches for the answer in your glossy eyes, hope fueling the fire that burns inside of him.

“Yes, that’s the problem.” You say, a heavy heart pulling a weight into the pit of your stomach. With a drop of your arms, you’re pulling away as you hear Jaehyun’s voice calling for you. He walks up to you and Doyoung with hands shoved into his pockets and a dark expression.

Jaehyun clears his throat, “I’d like to have my girlfriend back now.”

Before Doyoung can get another word, Jaehyun escorts you away. Just like that, he watches as you slip away from him so easily yet again. Your last look back at him seems sorrowful and longing. Doyoung can’t shake this unsettled feeling in his chest, a pain that is fueled by regret and every foolish thought. Your statement lingers in his head, you still love him.

The freezing murky waters bite at his bare skin, Doyoung may go into shock at the temperate drop. As revealed by the golden egg from the first task, the second task entails saving something dear to them that is held by the merpeople at the bottom of the lake at Hogwarts. Finding a way to complete the task was simple, Doyoung’s mind has become a copy of the textbooks in the library.

Using a bubble-head charm, a pocket of breathable air surrounds Doyoung’s head. The charm allows him to survive underwear for the allotted time needed to finish their mission. The deeper he swims, the lack of light reaches the bottom of the lake and the moans of the merpeople grow louder.

He can only wonder what it may be that he needs to save, perhaps his journal of mastered spells or the soft scarf you had bought him over the holidays. As he swims and swims, there is no sight of the other competitors and only dark shadows of tails and tridents.

Doyoung has to be careful with his actions, trying to keep everything subtle when the vicious merciless merpeople circle around him. As he approaches a clear and bright opening underneath the water surface, his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach.

Through the murky waters, he sees an image that shocks him tremendously: the four lifeless looking individuals floating by a chain attached to their ankles. He sees you, eyes closed and completely still. You are frozen, no movement, no self awareness, absolutely nothing.

Something dear. Task two meant saving a loved one held captive by the merpeople. Doyoung has no time to ponder what spell was used on you to cause your lifeless nature or who managed to smuggle you to the bottom of this wretched lake, he needed to free the both of you in time before his own spell ran out.

However, he stops in his tracks. Were you his to save or were you Jaehyun’s? No one else is anyone that he knows or has had more than a brief conversation with. His inner conflict causes him to hesitate, the merpeople growing notably impatient at his weary approach.

They hold the trident against his throat, the sharp weapon threatened at the base of his neck. They are hideous creatures, with faces of mutilated fish and bodies of mermaids. He never thought that he would see one up close, truthfully, he never wished to encounter such a dangerous situation. “Make a decision or none at all.” The raspy, scratchy voice snarls at him and he gulps. An unsettling chill runs down his spine and a crippling fear grows in his throat.

He does what his heart believes is true.

And that is saving you.

With a zap of his wand, the chain becomes undone and your body drifts slowly in the water. He catches you, hand wrapped around your torso tightly as he swims faster toward the surface. Doyoung has no other thoughts in his mind than to get you two out of there as soon as he can, without any further thought of the repercussions of when you two reach above waters.

A complete gasp of air, you two splash above the rough currents. The spell upon you breaks, as you cough violently at the sudden volume of water that surrounds your being. You’re confused, lost, scared, so you hold onto the only warmth that you find by your side. To your surprise, Doyoung blinks at you with grave concern.

“Are you okay?” He yells over the loud cheering of the crowds of students by the deck and on land. He is the first champion to finish the second task, with an incredible speed that is worth noting on the charts.

Nevertheless, he does not care about that at this very moment. In this moment, he only sees you and the chilling image of you lifeless in the water below. He reads your expression, you’re frantic and latching onto him as hard as you can hold an individual.

“I was just in the library, then… nothing. Absolute darkness and now, I’m in the middle of the lake! Cold, drenched and confused. Terrified to my wits, actually.” Your arms are wrapped around his neck lightly, face digging into his broad shoulders. “What is going on?!”

His hand pats your back to soothe your shaky figure. The waves crash into your bodies softly, and everyone is witnessing this intimate moment of comfort. From an outsider’s perspective, you and Doyoung are afloat a bit far out past the wooden deck, in each other’s embrace and definitely in your own world to pay attention to the tournament.

“Task two, save something dear to you at the bottom of the lake held captive by the merpeople.” He whispers against your ear and you pull away to examine his face. He can’t be serious.

But his expression remains stone, droplets line his pale skin and his wet hair pushed out of his eyes. You could kiss him right then and there. Because your heart swells so hard that it feels suffocating, it rubs painfully at your ribcage and you refuse to believe that you were his person to save.

“Who did Jaehyun--” Doyoung cuts you off, treading the water quickly and pulling you along to hurry out of the freezing waters before you both develop hypothermia. Others help pull you out as they are quick to wrap you with a towel.

The water drags at your clothes, pulling weight against you and the chill of the air is enough to send goosebumps to form all over your body. However, you’re not shocked by the cold. You are shocked by the sheer fact that you still are Doyoung’s important person.

You weren’t down there for Jaehyun. Whoever was menacing enough to kidnap you and cast the wicked spell chose you as leverage for Doyoung. It is a twisted form of romance, but something inside your heart continues to burst with gratitude and admiration at the man who had the courage to rescue you.

Although you had admitted to him of your feelings the night before, you never got any response of reciprocity. But this task proves something, enough of it to show that you still meant a whole lot more to him than he can verbalize. So there may be hope.

Doyoung hoists himself out of the water, biceps bulging and pale toned stomach dripping with streams of water. You’d do anything to be back in his arms right now. He catches your stare, breaking quickly to avoid any further embarrassment for the both of you. Nonetheless, Doyoung silently smiles to himself.

In this world, you and him continue to exist next to each other, despite every obstacle. And the thought from Yule Ball plays on a loop in his heavy mind: you still love him and he will always love you.

“Thank you.” Your small voice and fingers on the back of his hand are gentle. Doyoung feels electrified, like a joy that he has been seeking for so long and hard for finally erupted.

“You were used for my gain. Not sure if you should be thanking me. My task was to save you.” He tsked, and how you loved to hear the snarkiness in his tone.

Your light giggle rumbles his heart, “you’re right, but I am still grateful that I was part of your winning moment.” You plant a small kiss on his cheek, and his heart beats rapidly. Please kiss him again, he begged in his thoughts.

“Congratulations, Doyoung.” The sincerity in your voice is enough of a prize to him.

His stare lingers on your figure as you make your way back to campus to freshen up, not even a care for the man that suddenly rises from the surface of the water. Doyoung’s head snaps toward the commotion. Jaehyun is ripping through the water tirelessly, but with another girl in his arms.

Doyoung does not recognize her, but it didn’t matter. It all came clear to him, like a foggy glass that was finally wiped clean. The realization falls upon him: Jaehyun’s heart belongs to another.

Later on that night, Doyoung seeks to confront Jaehyun at the far end of a dim corridor. “Let’s talk.” His tone is venomous. He knows it shouldn’t bother him, but the fact that Jaehyun saved another has to have meant something.

Jaehyun is taken aback, but does not feel threatened by the Slytherin. He leans against the cobblestone walls arrogantly, under the torch that does a poor job at illuminating the dark hallway. Hands dug deep in his pockets and his lips formed a tight line.

“We don’t have much to discuss.” Jaehyun lifts an eyebrow, trying to maintain his relaxed posture. Nonetheless, it’s obvious that he’s on edge and a bit put off by Doyoung approaching him abruptly after the second task. He knows the reason.

Doyoung rolls his eyes, “who did you save today?” He has had enough of his lame behavior. Although you are no longer his to love, you should still be showered in every form of appreciation and mutual attraction. It is just what you deserve, anything less of that is unacceptable. It makes him sick, even. Could Jaehyun have been the reason for draining your light as well?

Anyone can see it right away; the tense in Jaehyun’s jaw is evident and his stare drops to his shoes. Jaehyun does not love you. Doyoung can’t tell if he even genuinely likes you and that single thought causes his blood to boil.

“None of your business.” Jaehyun spits back harshly, “but thanks for saving my girlfriend. Quite a show you two put on for the whole school to see.”

Doyoung scoffs at his ridiculous remarks, “says her own boyfriend who saved someone else. I didn’t realize we were all tied up in an estranged love triangle for the whole student body to feast upon.”

“You should hear the way people talk.” Jaehyun stands straight up, chest puffed up to assert some pride that lingers within him.

“Don’t need to. The only words that matter to me are hers.” Doyoung clears his throat and walks to close the distance between him and the faltering Gryffindor. He notices the way his eyes are frantic, worried about what Doyoung can see behind the fake façade.

Then, Doyoung says the words that have Jaehyun in defeat. “You can’t mark her, can you?” His low voice is taunting, Doyoung’s sharp gaze looks down at the embarrassed man with a great sense of his own pride.

Jaehyun purses his lips, contemplating how he should go about answering. If he admits it, he admits defeat. If he denies it, it only makes him look more like a fool. Doyoung holds back the growing smirk at his hesitation.

“I don’t need a silly little mark to know that I love her.” Jaehyun circles. His shoulders drop forward, does he genuinely believe that? He has attempted on more than two occasions to mark you.

Ever since your first encounter, Jaehyun felt something from you like no other. You understand him like no one else does. He wanted to mark you to prove to himself that his feelings were more than lust, he wanted to be in love with you.

The mark is a tale old as time. A lover’s mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. The appearance of your lover’s Patronus on wherever it is chosen to be marked is absolutely sacred and special to the couple. A marking makes someone untouchable and unattainable to everyone else as to why newly established couples are so eager to mark one another.

Once marked, the individual is unable to develop feelings for another person until it naturally fades when they fall out of love. It’s so beautiful in theory, as the symbol glows with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt. However, the attempts have been left with a miserable sparkling star hue that fades after a few days. His Patronus never appears.

“I don’t think you know what it means to be in love with her.” Doyoung pronounces boldly. His heart is caught in his throat, but he is more than certain about the next words he is about to say.

Jaehyun scoffs, rolling his eyes at the serious boy. “What does a Slytherin know about loving someone?”

“When I feel it simply by looking at her.” And that confession is stronger than any fighting words or explanation. Jaehyun blinks at Doyoung, as if he is genuinely questioning if this lovesick fool is really the same Kim Doyoung he knows.

Doyoung does not say anything further and for a brief moment, the two tall rivals stand in contemplation and silence. The embers of the fire blaze softly in the night, crackling as it eats away at the wooden torch slowly. The howls of owls are lost in the distance and the weather is gracious tonight.

They are both speechless, staring at the concrete floor and thinking about their own realization of their emotions. Doyoung’s heart tugs, as if admitting that he is still greatly in love with you to another person finally means that he accepts that he will never move on. Despite the hope that you still love him, there is no visible future of you two getting back together. Did you want that? He wonders.

Jaehyun clears his throat to break the heavy silence, “In all honesty, yes. I don’t love her. I was just determined to win her over finally.” All this time, Jaehyun secretly knew why his mark never appeared. He knew that through all his flirtatious compliments and public displays of affection, he didn’t feel a single thing. All the feelings he believed he had were nonexistent after you first had rejected him.

You become a competition to Jaehyun. You, the most popularly sought out for, was a prize for any man. He didn’t actually ever know you the way Doyoung did.

Doyoung nods knowingly. The anger that surrounds him is not visible, but it coats every part of his body. It makes him sick, regretful. Above all, he is angry that you were viewed for no more than your reputation. He knows you better than anyone, and you are the one person in this entire wicked academy that is worth getting to know.

He begins backing away, knowing that if he stayed to listen to more of the bullshit that spewed from Jaehyun’s mouth, he wouldn’t be able to hold back from punching that snarky piece of shit. Through his quiet fuming, Doyoung’s last words are a mixture of utter disbelief and vengeance.

“Well,” he laughs dryly and bitterly. “It was quite brave of you to pursue her when she was at her most vulnerable.” Gryffindors, he’ll never grow to like them.

He isn’t sure when it all went terribly, terribly wrong. Task Three was the final task. The TriWizard Cup is placed in the center of an impressive maze that spans across the Quidditch field. Besides the goal of being the first to touch it in order to be declared the outright winner, there is no prior instruction or awareness as to what lies behind the tall grass hedges. Doyoung had to be prepared for anything that lurked in the dark.

In fact, he was more than prepared. Spells, jinxes, and giant creatures were all on the agenda and Doyoung memorized every helpful tactic the night before. What he wasn’t prepared for that ended up putting him in grave danger was the mimic of your voice between the high grassy walls.

It could be the lack of sleep in this entire competition that causes delusions that appear in the shadows, but Doyoung swears that he heard you faintly and saw the slight outline of your figure. He called out your name, but you didn’t turn around and kept slipping away from him, pulling him further away from the TriWizard Cup. But he ran after you like a lost puppy, trying to search for you between leaves and lack of light.

Before he could snap out of these twisted imaginations or figure out what ill witted spell this was, he was practically trampled by a giant dark creature with eight legs. It may be the most violent thing he has ever experienced, pain instantly surging throughout his arm and leg. Though he fought his hardest, Doyoung felt his breath slow and chest crumble into him.

In the midst of fighting a monstrous spider, his mind is heavy in fear. However, it was not the fear of death or elimination, but the fear that he could potentially lose you. His spells no longer held much ammo and the creature was not slowing down, Doyoung could barely breathe underneath all the pressure.

That’s when it all spiraled, Doyoung eventually lost consciousness and Jaehyun found his tattered body in the middle of a pathway. Forfeiting the championship, Jaehyun transports them both back to the entrance, where the whole school and judges awaited for the winner’s grand finish.

“Help!” Gasps from the stands, everyone falls silent at the sight of a badly injured Doyoung in Jaehyun’s arms. The teachers begin scurrying down to the scene, the headmaster also in complete dismay.

You probably look absolutely out of your mind, as you frantically run down from the stands. There is no regard for anyone else besides Doyoung. You can feel the lump in your throat, the wounds on his skin being hard to look away from. You’re calling his name in the tense silence, panicked and complete tunnel vision.

He hears your voice again, completely unaware of his whereabouts. He regains consciousness, seeing your beyond concerned figure pushing past professors and other gathered individuals. With the weak flick of his wand, he transports the both of you to his room. Finally some fucking privacy.

It’s as if the TriWiz Competition no longer mattered, the sting in his abdomen and arm reminding him of the horrors from the maze. Though he left the crowd in confusion, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone came barging in and interrupting this very much needed resolve between the both of you.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse and you hover over him with the furrowed brows and an utterly confused expression on your face. You kneel beside him, picking up his head to rest on your lap. Your heart aches painfully at the sight of him so hurt, in so much pain, in such a brutal condition.

“What the fuck are you apologizing for? Kim Doyoung, you need to go to the infirmary right this instant!” Your voice breaks in the midst of your nagging, tears lining your waterline embarrassingly.

This was the sole reason you couldn’t happily congratulate him for being selected. This magnitude of pain is too hard to endure, you couldn’t watch the one you love risk his whole life over a meaningless cup of gold. Although you believed in him the most, you knew that there was an underlying possibility of injury and your worst nightmare came true. Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach the moment his tattered body appeared in Jaehyun’s arms.

“I should have stopped you the night you walked out. I’m sorry for letting you leave so easily.” Doyoung reaches his hand to caress your cheek. You couldn’t even feel the single tear that rolled down your complexion, his thumb wiping it away with no hesitation.

“Doyoung… it’s done and in the past.” There is a quiver in your vindication. Anyone listening in can hear the hurt in your tone and see the pain in the emptiness of your glossy eyes.

He calls your name, and something about how it rolls off of his tongue reminds you of how much you loved hearing him say it. How beautiful it sounds coming from his lips only. “What I saw in the maze made me realize that my biggest fear was losing you.”

You can’t believe your ears at his confession. “I want to change, I don’t know how. If there was a potion to drink, I’d take it in a heartbeat for you.” He finishes, wincing at the sharp pain that sends up his leg.

“Love makes you do ridiculous and outrageous things. It makes you say foolish things.” Your empty words pelt at him, but he doesn’t give. He can’t hold back the emotions that you still make him feel. After all this time, this journey of self improvement, he still can’t be the man you wanted him to be.

“Love makes me a pathetic fool, I’ll admit it.” He carefully sits up with your aid. His face inches forward to yours, tilting his head to get a really good look at your delicate features. With eyes bored into your own, he whispers, “but there is no greater feeling in this world than to be in love with you.”

You tear away from his gaze, blinking out the tears that rimmed your eyes. Before you can stop more from spilling, you’re sobbing into your palms. “You must have lost your wits in there.”

Doyoung frowns, holding onto your wrist loosely. His heart swells in his chest again, this familiar feeling that he loves and hates. “(Y/N), I’m sorry I failed to give you the forever I promised and it keeps me up at night wondering if there was a possibility I could have succeeded.”

Your hands drop from your face and your eyebrows are still knitted together. “But you have! You gave me forever, Doyoung.” You yell rather loudly, all the air within your lungs escaping you in one breath.

Doyoung blinks at you quizzically, not sure what you quite mean. Your markings faded long ago and you two broke up months ago. You two had an ending, or so he thought.

“Don’t you understand?” Your expression softens, as you prepare your next few words as carefully as he did with his. “You have always been my forever. My beating heart is yours until the day I take my very last breath.”

He gulps, but his throat remains dry. Doyoung can hear the pounding of his heart in his ears and the way his chest burns heavily at your confession. He looks at you, speechless at how you look at him with so much awe and admiration.

Is it happiness that explodes within him?

Doyoung watches as you slightly part your hair, your finger running across where his mark used to be. Then, he makes out the faint white ink that thinly etches your skin. He has to lean closer to make out the image, but when he does… his jaw hangs slightly open and eyes widen. A swan, his Patronus, is intricately lined in the same place as where the magical mark used to be. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“I got it over the break in the Muggle world. It’s a permanent drawing on your skin.” You explain to the pureblood Slytherin boy, who you are so madly in love with.

Endless research was put into finding the spell that would never cause your markings to fade. In the end, there wasn’t one. Until you stumbled across an old muggle friend from your past that had drawings across their skin. There was no spell, not a single form of magic needed to be casted. Something as simple as that, your marking was finally back where it had belonged. “It doesn’t hold any magical properties to glow, but I don’t need it.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, a feeling that you have longed for. “My heart glows for you every moment we’re together, every single thought of you that runs endlessly in my mind, every glance you make my way. That loving feeling blossoms in my chest and the glow is hardly enough of a visual to show how you make me feel.”

He can’t hold back any longer. Your breath on his lips, the aching pain in his chest, the desire to be yours. Doyoung caves in; every part of him reaches out and pulls you into him. His lips crash into yours like they know no other.

The taste of your lips, your skin underneath his fingertips, your scent filling his lungs. He’s so overwhelmed by a hope and love that eats away his whole existence. He wants growth, he wants to be a better version of himself for you, he wants to give you the love you deserve.

But to his surprise, an epiphany erupts in all the craziness. It is you who gives him a love fit for champions. You are the love that will never fade. So perhaps, you’ve given him forever.

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kpopscape #nct #doyoung #doyoung scenarios #doyoung scenario #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct hogwarts au #nct imagines #nct imagine #doyoung x reader

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black-mistress-of-evil · 3 years

Note

Hey! Can I request a Bucky x Reader where Bucky gets hurt during a mission and the reader is there to take care of him? Maybe he’s caught of guard by this because he hasn’t had someone take care of him in a long time? Feel free to do whatever you want with this!! Thank you so much and I can’t wait to read it 💕

Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N Thanks so much for the request @thighs-of-betrayal-blog this was so fun to write! Sorry it took so long! I swear every time I get the motivation to write my life gets crazy. But here it is, hopefully it’s a little bit what you hoped for and if it isn’t I hope you enjoy it anyways haha 💜

Warnings: FLUFFY FLUFF; angst if you squint; very very brief canon level violence; a minute of mutually pining idiots

Word count: approx 2.3k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (he uses the endearment “doll” but other than that reader is gender neutral)

Why Do You Care?

“Bucky stop being so stubborn and let me see!”

You were standing in the living room of the safe house Bucky had dragged you into, hands on your hips glaring down at the super soldier on the couch. He was avoiding your gaze, staring a hole in the wall to your left, and had his arms folded across his chest. He looked to you more like a pouting child than a 100+ year old ex-assassin/current Avenger and if you weren’t so frustrated with him you’d probably giggle at the sight.

The mission had been a success. Sort of. You and Bucky had been sent in to steal sensitive files from an abandoned Hydra base. Which you managed to do. But it ended up being less than abandoned and without any backup the fight out was a rough one. Just as the two of you were finally getting out, covered in blood and bruises, Bucky had grabbed your arm and shoved you into a crouch, bending himself over you protectively as a shot rang out. He grunted out in pain and you leaned around his frame to send a bullet straight into the skull of the Hydra agent who’d been stupid enough not to stay down. You’d tried, then, to make sure Bucky was okay but he wasted no time in hauling you back up and out into the night. His hand slipped down your arm to clasp yours and he didn’t let go until you were safely within the walls of the safe house. The more the two of you had run the more obvious it became that he was hurt but he ignored you asking about it.

Now that he’d made sure the safe house was secure and reported back to Steve what had happened and where you were, he couldn’t avoid you anymore. But he could ignore you and he was trying his damnedest to do so.

“M’fine.” He grumbled at you for probably the third time in as many minutes, shifting to turn his injured side away from you as if that would make you go away.

“Bucky I know you’re not fine so why won’t you just let me see so I can help?” The cuteness of his pout was wearing off as your patience was wearing thin. “Do you not trust me or something??”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to yours then, his heart rate rising as he saw the concern there. He did trust you. More than he trusted himself most days. Hell he was in love with you. But you were way too good for him, too full of light, and you’d never be interested in someone like him. He’d only ruin you anyways. But when he looked into your eyes he couldn’t stand the flash of hurt he saw when you asked that question.

“Course I do doll...I trust ya...” his voice was hoarse and he tried taking a deep breath to clear his throat but it sent pain shooting through him and he groaned, pressing his hand to the still bleeding wound in his side.

“Buck....” your tone was softer now as you took a step closer. You thought for a second that he was going to let you check on his injury but the moment your hands reached for him he shot up, ignoring the pain, and pushed past you into the bathroom while mumbling about not needing help.

You roll your eyes and sigh as the bathroom door slams shut behind him. Ever since you’d met the quiet soldier when he joined the Avengers he’d swung back and forth between pushing you away and pulling you in closer. He always volunteered to be partnered with you and you worked well together but he’d refuse to spar with you. He liked helping you cook for team dinners but always declined your invitations to go out for lunch. During movie nights he only ever sat beside you or, if someone beat him there, he’d sit on the floor and lean against your legs even if there was an empty seat by someone else, but he wouldn’t join you when you were binge watching your favourite show alone. You couldn’t figure him out but the more you tried to the more you fell for him. It had been agony for you to want him knowing he could never see you as more than a teammate and friend. Regardless of how many times his behaviour had made it clear he wasn’t interested in you that way, you couldn’t help it. You loved him. And if that remained unrequited the rest of your life then so be it, you were that gone for him.

And so, despite his insistence that he didn’t need your help, you found yourself trailing after him towards the bathroom. You pressed your ear to the door and could hear him shuffling around, pulling out a first aid kit, and then gasping in obvious pain.

“Bucky? Open the door and let me in? Please? I want to help...I want to take care of you, you just have to let me....” you pause, waiting for a response, and notice that all the sounds on the other side of the door have ceased.

“Buck? Please, I care about you...let me...” your voice is lower, almost a whisper now, and you wait another few painfully silent seconds before hearing a long sigh from the other side of the door. When it cracks open, your eyes meet his piercingly blue ones and you nearly crumble at the uncertainty you see there.

“Can I come in, Buck?” You ask gently and he hesitates for only a second before nodding and opening the door wider. You step inside and motion for him to sit on the edge of the counter for you and he quickly obeys.

“You’re gonna have to take your shirt off for me to see, Buck.” You say gently, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He grunts in acknowledgement and begins pulling his black tee up, hissing as he raises his arms causing a tug to his injury. Without a second thought, you reach forward and help maneuver his shirt the rest of the way off, dropping it to the side as he brings his arms back down. As other times in the past when you’ve seen him shirtless, you can’t help but let your eyes travel across his firm chest and toned abdomen, drinking him in until you raise your eyes to his and realize he’s watching you. You quickly avert your gaze, your ears burning at having been caught ogling him, so you miss the way his lips curl into a smirk. Focusing your attention onto his side you gasp at the large gash there still slowly leaking blood.

“Not that bad, doll.”

“James Buchanan Barnes! Just because its not life-threatening does not mean that it’s ‘not that bad’. Dammit Buck why wouldn’t you let me help you take care of this as soon as we got here?!” You huff as you grab some antibacterial cloths and begin cleaning the wound, ignoring his hiss as you do so.

“M’sorry, doll...it’s just...haven’t really had anyone take care of me in...well since before the war to be honest. Got used to taking care of myself...used to not having anyone care.” Bucky’s voice is barely a whisper and you have to strain to listen to him. He’s never been so vulnerable with you and you want to make the most of however long he’s going to let this moment last. When its clear he’s waiting for you to say something you reach one hand up to softly cup his cheek and turn him to face you.

“I care. I care so much, Buck. You just have to let me.” You try to put all your emotions into your gaze, desperate for him to see that he doesn’t have to be alone and that he is loved and cared about. He sighs and leans into your hand more, raising his own to rest on your hip.

“Why?”

He spoke so quietly you’re not sure you heard him and raise an eyebrow to ask him to repeat himself, too afraid of breaking the spell that seems to have fallen over the two of you to speak.

“Why do you care so much, doll? Why me? I’m not...I’m not worth it.”

This is it. The chance to tell him how you feel. If he rejects you that’s fine, you decide. Even if he doesn’t return your feelings at least he will know that he is loved and that’s enough for you right now. Your heart feels like it may burst as you weigh your response carefully.

“You, Bucky, are so worthy of all the care in the world. You went through hell and back a million times over and came out the other side a kind, thoughtful, sweet, considerate, gentle, loving man. The world tried to break all of that out of you but you are too strong and too GOOD. The world owes you and if I could wrap up all the love that exists in it and give it to you I would. But I’ve only got mine so that’s what I’ll give you.”

Dropping your hand from his face to his shoulder, you hold your breath as Bucky’s eyes stare into yours as though searching for something. He tightens his grip on your waist, before finally breaking the heavy silence, his voice at least an octave lower.

“You’ll....give me...your love...?” Bucky is the strongest man you know and yet you have never heard him sound so timid and unsure in all the time you’ve known him. He looks so hopeful and scared and you can’t help the confession bursting from your lips.

“Yes Bucky! I will. I already have. It’s yours. I-I love you.” You take a deep breath before continuing, rambling now. “And I don’t expect to you to return my feelings and I hope I haven’t ruined our friendship because that would just kill me nothing has to change between us I just needed you to know that—mmph—“

You’re cut off by Bucky’s lips connecting with yours, his hands cupping your face, thumbs rubbing gently across your cheekbones. The kiss is gentle, careful, almost tentative at first. But then your arms snake around his neck and one of his hands makes its way into your hair and it becomes passionate and desperate. Bucky pulls you between his thighs so you are flush against him and the feeling of his taut muscles against you makes you moan. Your hands lift to tangle in his hair and tug gently as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, practically begging for entrance which you immediately grant. He growls into the kiss as he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, his hands roaming all across your body, pulling you impossibly closer as you arch into him needing to feel him. He stands suddenly, pushing you back a couple of steps until you are pinned between his body and the wall. You gasp for air and he moves his lips along your jaw, down your neck, and then back up to press another searing kiss against your lips before resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his own breath. Your chests rise and fall together and he rubs his nose against yours before placing another tender, gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Sorry....couldn’t help myself...” Bucky manages to tell you between gasps for air.

“Never apologize for THAT...” you giggle and the vibrations of his chuckle against your chest make you feel lightheaded as he leans back to look you in the eye, cupping your cheek tenderly.

“I love you.” He sounds sure. Confident. Like nothing in the world could be more true than that statement. You can’t help the ridiculously giddy grin that splits your face as you tug his face back to yours for another kiss, which he smiles into.

Once you come down from your highs a little bit you manage to coax him back to his spot on the counter and you continue cleaning his injury and stitching him up though it takes much longer now as Bucky keeps distracting you. He plants kisses to your nose, your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your forearm, basically any part of you that comes close enough to his lips. When you finally finish, you let your hands run along his muscles as you rub your nose against his and kiss him deeply, gently biting his bottom lip eliciting a sound from him that turns your insides completely upside down.

Before you can say or do anything else, the front door opens with a crash and Bucky grabs you and shoves you behind him protectively as he peeks out into the front room to assess the threat.

“Dammit punk! What’re you breaking down the door for?! I thought you were a hostile! Why didn’t you just call and say you were here??!” You sigh in relief at Bucky’s nickname for Steve and move to peer over his shoulder at the Captain as the two super soldiers glare at each other.

“I’ve been calling for several minutes! You didn’t answer! I thought you were in danger, jerk!”

“Sorry, Steve! We were...distracted. Bucky needed stitches.” You quickly apologize and give an excuse in case Bucky isn’t comfortable saying anything yet since you hadn’t exactly taken the time to talk yet. But he just turns to face you and smirks as he tugs you to him for one more kiss before reaching around you to grab his shirt and pull it on.

“Ya. We were pretty damn distracted. Didn’t really appreciate the interruption, punk!” Bucky chuckles and can’t help the grin that has been plastered on his face since you told him you love him. Your cheeks flush as he puts an arm around your shoulder, guiding you to Steve who is looking between you and Bucky with a happy, almost proud, look on his face.

“It’s about damn time, you two! Now, who made the first move? I need to know if I owe Sam $50 or not.”

#let me write for you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky x gender neutral reader #bucky x female reader

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bkdkology · 3 years

Text

Food for thought

Howdy, I’m currently fighting 20mg of melatonin in my system to pose a question, and a half assed answer. Spoiler: it’s bkdk and mostly fanon. (Yes, this is an expansion of my previous post that’s right under this one.)

Katsuki Bakugou is an enigma to both the side of the fandom that adores him, and the side that despises him.

But why is he such a polarized character?

He certainly wins the hearts of most of the fandom, as he’s been consistently taking first place in the popularity polls. But there’s the presence of a very strong backlash against him because of his past as a bully, and what separates Katsuki from the rest as a character is: those who are against him, have refused to let go of the past. While nobody really excuses or romanticizes his behavior, most are able to understand that it’s a part of him that is absolutely essential to his character.

Personally, he’s my favorite character. There’s something about the way Horikoshi tells his story that makes me want to cheer for him.

So, what the fuck does that have to do with bkdk?

I realized that this stupid comment I made:

Is true. And not just true, it took me deeper than I intended.

I strongly believe that Katsuki isn’t particularly physically attractive. He’s strong, has amazing arms because of his quirk, and is well built as an obvious consequence of being an active student in the hero course.

Go to this post for screenshots and whatnot.

As I was reading the second light novel, I came across a few excerpts when the girls of 1-A and 1-B were talking about boys at a slumber party. And a few things stood out: (Keep in mind light novels are considered canon, written by Anri Yoshi who works with Horikoshi to sketch some scenes out.)

1. The girls think that while Kaminari is a womanizer, he’d make a loyal boyfriend

2. The girls also seem to unanimously believe that Monoma and Todoroki are the hot guys of the hero course.

3. They think Izuku is maybe too much of a fanboy

4. They whole heartedly believe Iida wouldn’t hold hands before marriage

5. Bakugou’s outstanding characteristic is his intelligence, not his looks.

Why am I making this a point? If you haven’t noticed, Katsuki has one of the biggest ‘simpnations’ in the fandom, in which a shit ton of people find him attractive. While it is just the way Horikoshi draws him that garners so much attention, it’s pretty much canon that most in story characters don’t find his looks as jaw dropping as some people have made them seem (me, I’m calling myself out here, since I feel like the only one who thinks this boy could walk on water).

What is extremely ironic about this is that a lot of fans completely overlook the fact that Katsuki is ridiculously smart, especially the fans that hate him. It’s a characteristic about him that is constantly reiterated time and time again but forgotten at the same rate. (i.e Katsuki placing 1st in the entrance exam, ranking 3rd in the class, sports festival analysis in which even Kiri has overlooked his smarts.)

The point I’m trying to make here is: since the story is told in Izuku’s perspective, what if it’s not just Katsuki’s looks that Izuku tells us about in a biased way, but Katsuki himself?

If you’re caught up, you have most likely seen the beautiful way that Katsuki’s character has developed. And if you’re like me, you probably guessed that Katsuki’s story was heading this way long before this chapter. But how? If to some, he’s just a kid who told a vulnerable Izuku to take a swan dive off the roof.

In 284-285, in the middle of war Katsuki is having heavy flashbacks from his past with Izuku as far back as middle school, even before the sludge incident that took place in chapter 1. He’s harboring overwhelming feelings of guilt.

Katsuki has never really dealt well with feelings, especially expressing those feelings. So what does he do? He uses his power to help Izuku control his, despite them being rivals.

Here’s the kicker, this chapter confirms that Izuku has never held anything against Katsuki. He doesn’t see the training as atonement the way Katsuki intended, because Izuku feels like there’s absolutely nothing to apologize for. But even before this chapter, Izuku simply gave off these same exact vibes by painting Katsuki in a good light.

I was in love with Katsuki from the moment I met him, how could a character so vile in his mannerisms and reckless in his treatment of others make me so happy and so sad when I looked at him?

For me, the answer lies within the protagonist, who’s wanted us to see him that way from the beginning. The people who hate Katsuki and refuse to acknowledge his growth have also failed to let go of the past the way Izuku did . That despite his ugly traits and his funny looking face, he is somebody complex and amazing inside.

He is beautiful.

#thanks horikoshi #reminder this is JUST A HEADCANON #katsudeku #dekubaku #bakugou katsuki #bkdk #bakudeku #mha #bnha #my hero academia #ktdk #midoriya izuku

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

Note

I know you’ve talked about how all the Cullen pairings are eventually going to implode - glad someone said it - but I was wondering if you wanted to talk a little bit about what you think Meyer INTENDED with the pairings - tropes and whatnot? And what you think would have to change in her narrative to make what was intended what we actually saw on the page? Or — what do you think each cullens’ Perfect Spouse would actually look like?

Anon is referring to this post.

And well, you've certainly given me quite the challenge.

Some Musing Ramblings Before We Begin

Sort of like asking me to make Dramione work, I'm not sure I'm the person to ask this. Anyone who reads my work knows that... well, that's a lie, every story I secretly write is a love story. But it's not Twilight in any way shape or form.

Twilight simply isn't a story I would set out to write. This isn't a good thing or a bad thing, it just is, which means that asking me to make Twilight work the way Meyer intended is probably not your best bet.

But I'll try regardless, it's what we're here for.

Bella/Edward

Meyer intended Bella Swan and Edward Cullen to be the best and brightest of all the pairings in Twilight. They have the love and devotion of Carlisle and Esme, the physicality and sexual attraction of Rosalie and Emmett, and are such a grand love that even depressed Marcus takes note. This is the love story that drives the entire series.

Edward is an improvement upon Carlisle, a Carlisle with even better control, and the most beautiful man you ever did see. He's also a gentleman, a man of his time and from an era where chivalry was alive and men courted women. Bella is one of those disturbingly altruistic people who makes you feel bad about yourself just by being in the same room. She's incredibly selfless, kind, and also quite brave.

Together, despite their ups and downs and the many obstacles in their way, they're disgustingly perfect.

However, that's not what we get. On Edward's end he's... Edward about loving Bella. On Bella's end, she has no idea who Edward even is but she does know he's beautiful and special.

And to get what Meyer actually wanted... Christ, Anon, I'll try.

So, the first problem, if Edward was truly a good person then Twilight would never happen.

Edward would have his first day of Biology, miraculously maintain control, and flee to Alaska as he does in canon. However, he would not return. Edward in canon returns due to his budding obsession as well as his wounded pride, in fleeing Forks he feels he has lost to Bella. When Carlisle later points out that a girl's life is on the line, that Edward is foolishly endangering this girl solely for his ego, Edward refuses to acknowledge this.

A good man would never have returned from Alaska, the Cullens would have moved in short order, and Bella may or may not have died in a parking lot or in Port Angeles.

That said, what if Bella is not, in fact, Edward's singer? Then there's not this constant debate of him eating her or his creepy, budding, obsession with his personal brand of heroin.

Well, the trouble with that is that Edward would then never notice her. Even were Edward not a colossal dismissive dick, required per this ask, Bella is one mortal out of many and someone he shouldn't grow close to. Associating with her just exposes her to unnecessary danger from him and his family. Edward is a guest in our world, nothing more, and a kind Edward might chit chat with her in Biology but even if he had a growing crush he'd keep his distance.

As he tried and failed to do in canon, actually.

Basically, change Edward alone, and it's not enough. The Edward Meyer wanted would never get together with Bella. At least, not without a lot of AU-sauce.

But let's look at Bella for a moment. Bella's character also has to be entirely stripped down. The Bella of the books is extremely depressed and her infatuation with Edward is fueled in part because of this. Edward's obsession with her gives her worth.

Obviously, in this new and improved edition of Twilight, Bella can't use either Edward or Jacob for validation. She has to be able to stand on her own two legs. If she does use either for validation, then the relationship must come to an end, as she and her significant other realize just what it is Bella's doing.

The trouble is, what does this not-depressed Bella have to fall in love with? Yes, Edward's beautiful, and that certainly goes a long way, but in canon he's a dick. Bella even thinks to herself that he's a complete dick (even when he's trying to be charming). Luckily for Edward she later decides that this is cryptic and therefore appealing.

Well, in AU land, Edward might be so damn charming that Bella likes him anyway but we come back to Edward keeping her at a polite distance.

So, what we need is a terrifying villain. Let's call him Angelus (though per Twilight this would probably be James). Angelus is a vampire that will force Edward's hand. For whatever reason, he decides to torment and ruin Bella's life, ending the hunt in either eating her or turning her into his bride. Angelus' existence forces Bella to be in the know and for Edward to have to take extreme action.

The pair become closer, grow through undoubtedly horrific trauma, and through said trauma Bella understands not only the pros of being a vampire but the terrifying cons.

Basically, it'd be this story. Just replace the name "Carlisle" with Edward and "Edward" with James.

Alice/Jasper

Alice and Jasper are supposed to have this ineffable, mystic, connection where they're together because... Alice saw them together. And in a way, that's true, but it's supposed to be a thing of beauty, soulmates if there ever were any, and instead it's this dumpster fire with nothing holding them together.

This one's easier in a way, well, sort of. Alice would have to be a completely different character and we'd have to see a lot more of Jasper.

Alice has a bad habit of treating those around her, even those she loves, as chess pieces. She'll put them in significant danger, court their misery, so long as it gets her the future she wants.

And she's extremely controlling.

Right away in the opening of Midnight Sun we see this and how it affects her and Jasper's relationship. The novel opens with Alice hovering, scanning the future for Japser fucking up, while Jasper just sits there in misery. Due to her obsession on making sure Jasper doesn't eat students, she actually misses Edward's plan to massacre Biology and his many plans to eat Bella Swan.

Even if she wasn't, this isn't good for anyone to live with. Jasper has very little concept of free will, whatever happens to him, whatever he'll do, Alice tells him and the worst possible option is always on the table.

For Jasper/Alice to work either Alice's gift needs to go (and that's... sort of all Alice is) or she has to tell no one any vision ever unless under extreme circumstances.

Which would be devastating for Alice. Rather than this mostly well-adjusted, perky, girl, Alice would be crippled by her gift. The weight of the world, everyone's free will, rests on her shoulders and she has to constantly avoid temptation to simply pick everyone's future for them.

Without the attitude Alice has in canon, I think she'd go mad with such a gift, or else be consumed by the responsibility of it.

Then we get to the mess that is Jasper. Jasper's complicated, and I don't want to get into it here, but his love story would have to be... too large to be put to the side like that. The redemption he'd need is not one that can be shoved into a few paragraphs told to Bella, it's frankly the kind of story that would drive an ordinary story.

So we'd have to see a lot of Jasper and Nouveau Alice. Which, of course, detracts from Bella/Edward which is the main point of the story.

Honestly, I take it back, there's no salvaging this relationship. They would have to be completely different people to the point where they're entirely different characters wearing nametags 'Alice' and 'Jasper'. Alice couldn't have her gift, which informs her entire character, and we'd have to see way too much of Jasper who is ultimately a tertiary character.

Carlisle/Esme

Thoughts on Carlisle/Esme.

Carlisle and Esme is a very 'spiritual' relationship per Meyer. They're... mom-bot and dad-bot. Alright, fine, they're the perfect parents with this deep love for each other and a very parental bond with Edward especially. It's the relationship Edward admires the most in his paired off family.

I don't even know how to fix this one.

Again, they'd have to be such different people. The trouble with Esme and Carlisle is that they share no values and are plagued by massive miscommunication. The Carlisle who is perfect for Esme... No, wait, this Carlisle is perfect for her, but that's because she's in Esme Land.

The Carlisle that would be perfect for a grounded Esme is not the one that exists. She'd want someone who would always put the family first, who would treasure her above all other things, that's not Carlisle.

Carlisle, similarly, would want someone that truly shares his ideals. That's not Esme.

So, we're back to nametag land, because one or both have to completely change for this to work. (Not to mention that Esme's probably not supposed to be Esme).

So, I've got nothing for this.

Rosalie/Emmett

I actually think these two are what Meyer intended. They love each other but are mostly held together by attraction. They're a very physical couple and good for the most part but inherently lesser than Bella/Edward.

Sure, I'd argue that they're the most put together couple in the house, but I think they're meant to have flaws. They work well together, but every other relationship in the Cullens has to be a step up or at least have something more to it.

Something Edward and Bella can be better than.

Conclusion

Dear god. Did I only manage to somewhat address Bella/Edward? Was that it? This was worse than I thought.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #twilight shipping #bella/edward #anti bella/edward #carlisle/esme #anti carlisle/esme #alice/jasper #anti alice/jasper #rosalie/emmett #anti rosalie/emmett #meta #headcanon #opinion #shipping

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fett-djarin · 3 years

Text

Anything

this bitch done YEET

anyway this is Boba Fett x f!Reader! I had this idea kicking around for awhile and shit finally came together and i was able to get it done!

Rating: 18+

Length: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, canon-typical violence (not in the smut), PiV intercourse, unprotected sex, fingering, riding, throne sex come get yalls juice, multiple orgasms, creampie, spanking, slight cockwarming?, pet names, swearing

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

Boba Fett was an enigma. He intimidated you, intrigued you--but he didn’t scare you. Boba could be violent, occasionally cruel, but only to those who had earned his ire. You had nothing to fear.

You still remember the day he stormed into Jabba’s palace, a wrathful spectre on a mission. You had been afraid you would be caught in the crossfire, an exchange of possession through violence. But then your chains were blasted apart, scum of men dying around you instead of finding your own demise. Instead of fleeing like the other girls, you dove towards a dropped blaster and levelled it at one of the smugglers putting up a fight. This particular one had been a thorn in your side for a long time. You’d be lying if you said you felt no satisfaction watching him fall lifeless from your well-placed blaster bolt.

“Nice shot,” the woman--Fennec, you had come to learn--commented. You had turned in a panic, pointing the blaster in her direction, her own rifle coming up in an instant, aimed squarely at your head.

“Easy, girl,” the Mandalorian--Boba--had said. “We have no interest in fighting you.”

“If you mean to sell me again,” you spat, “it would be easier to kill me now.” Your fingers flexed on the blaster, and you tried to steady your shaking hands. Fennec’s aim hadn’t faltered.

“Stand down, Shand,” Fett directed the sharpshooter, who immediately lowered her weapon. He then addressed you again. “I don’t deal in flesh.” You slowly dropped your arm. “What’s your name, girl?”

That had been...a few standard months ago, now. Boba ran his syndicate under a tight fist. He had no use for slaves, and had told you you were free, even offered you credits to return home. Some of the others took his offer. You had opted to stay--your birth planet had nothing to offer you, and you did not want to try your luck as a newly freed woman with nothing to your name on Tatooine. You didn’t even have a name, really. You were called something different each time you moved; your birthname was no longer you. That person had died long ago.

“Call me anything,” you had told Boba. “I don’t mind.”

He thought for a minute, and then decided. “Mayen.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. The gruff, seemingly serious man had a sense of humor. Mayen--Mando’a for ‘anything.’ His lips quirked in a sly smirk. You liked it. Mayen it was.

“You know Mando’a?” He had asked.

“I’ve picked up things here and there,” you smiled in return.

He later on told you that you could pick your own name, you had no obligation to go by the silly pun he called you. But you had a sense of humor, and actually liked how it sounded. It was a new beginning. You decided you would keep it.

You knew quite a few languages, or bits and pieces you heard over the years. Boba had hired you as a translator, and you accompanied him to meetings with traders, smugglers, and pirates. He didn’t allow any of them to harass you. If they so much as leered in your direction, they tended to lose a few fingers or teeth, either by your hand or his. At Boba’s insistence, you now carried a blaster and a vibroblade. Fennec had been showing you how to properly aim and shoot so you could better protect yourself. He had gifted you the vibroblade as part of your payment.

Yes, Boba Fett was a hard man, but you appreciated his kindness.

His scars added to his imposing figure, and you often found yourself wondering about their origin. What he must have gone through for his skin to be marked so. You also wondered about how stupid some people could be--Mandalorians were legendary warriors, and Boba Fett had some infamy connected to his name, yet fools still picked fights they were destined to lose. His armor impressed you--and the dark stare of the T-visor when he looked your way always had something low and warm stirring in your belly.

It didn’t help that sometimes he would watch while you practiced with your blade. Your heart thundered in your ears the first time he came up behind you, chest to your back, and moved your arms into the correct defensive position. His boot also nudged your stance wider, centering your weight. It’s part of training, you told yourself. You prayed he didn’t notice the heat in your face or the way you refused to look at him. Stars, if you turned your head you could kiss him--

What could you say? He was a handsome man.

Occasionally he offered to spar with you, which was laughable. The first time you had outright refused. “I don’t want to die, thanks,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to face people bigger and stronger than you sometimes, princess,” he said the endearment mockingly.

“Most people aren’t Boba Fett.”

“You’re right about that. Still, come on, show me what you’ve learned.”

Your first fight ended miserably in about three seconds. You gave him a pointed look that said I-told-you-so, and he just shrugged. “Not bad for your first time.” Sparring became regular.

“You’re quicker than me. Use that to your advantage, stay out of my reach. Strike and retreat.”

“Arms up, but keep ‘em close--protect your body.”

“Stagger your stance, distribute your weight. Make it harder for people to knock you down.”

“Move with confidence--this is not the time to falter.”

His words of advice came with each session and stuck. After a few weeks, you could hold your own for a minute against Fett. Then five minutes. Then your sparring was like a coordinated, aggressive dance, blades flashing and deflected, ducking, dodging, weaving, spinning around each other. Once, you had even managed to disarm him, knocking the blade from his hand--you both froze in stunned surprise before Boba recovered and had you pinned to the floor in an instant.

“Very good.” He said from his place atop your legs, pride curling darkly through his voice. “But next time, press the advantage. You freeze, you die.” Now you froze for an entirely different reason--his weight on top of you caused something hot and wanting to smolder in you, his thumb gently stroking the hollow of your throat making your breath hitch. And then he was off you, pulling you back to your feet with ease.

You still couldn’t beat him--you don’t think you would ever be capable of that. The best bounty hunter in the galaxy against you? You much prefer being on his good side.

Boba had just returned from a recent bounty hunt alongside a fellow Mandalorian, having left you and Fennec at the palace. You had been helping her sort through the datalogs and contraband left behind from the previous occupants when he appeared, moving surprisingly silent for such a broad, imposing man.

“Mayen,” he called you, and you looked at him over your shoulder, having been preoccupied cataloguing the contents of the crate in front of you. He was still in his armor, adding to his bulk. The green-painted beskar gave nothing away. “I’ve got a meeting. You’ll be needed. Fennec, I sent you scouting information on the next bounty.”

You nodded, and with your acknowledgment, he turned and strode back towards the throne room. Fennec stood, brushing sand off her pants. “Careful,” Fennec warned. “Keep your blaster close. You never know how these meetings will turn out.” She patted you on the shoulder.

“Got it,” you said, adjusting your tunic so she could see the holster on your hip. It would be the first time she wasn’t there alongside you while Boba arranged deals with crime lords. Sometimes Boba would go in alone, or the both of you would attend. “Trained by the best.”

She cracked a smile at that. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to track down our next target.” She exited the storage room opposite of the way Boba went.

You gathered yourself, then followed after Boba. Entering the throne room was daunting, as the traders he was meeting with were already there and turned to stare. A few of them openly looked you up and down. Your eyes were fixed solely on Boba lounging on the throne, legs spread, seemingly completely at ease and exuding power. You strode past the group of men come to bargain, refusing to look away from the void of Boba's visor that tracked your movement. One of them muttered something as you passed that you couldn't make out, but it had not sounded pleasant. You took your place at Boba's side.

"Boba Fett, the legendary bounty hunter back from the dead," a wiry human man stepped forward, rubbing his hands together. His grin was more of a baring of teeth. "Now that you run this joint, I have a few propositions to consider--"

Since he was speaking Basic, you have to admit, you tuned out. You watched the two Twi’leks that had accompanied him, who kept throwing glances your way, murmuring to themselves. Something about them put you on edge. Of course, you never trusted the people who came to do business with Boba, but you liked this group even less.

You translated for a Rodian bounty hunter when it was his turn to speak. You noticed the Twi'leks and the first human had been getting antsy, shifting from foot to foot and continuing to eye you and Boba. The Twi'leks had never come forward. They spelled trouble. You were tense the entire time, but they reached an agreement and left without trouble.

Boba on the throne was a sight. Your mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to sit on his lap, straddle his strong thighs. You shook your head to clear it as Boba cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

"Go get some rest, little one." And with that, you were dismissed.

You touched yourself thinking of him that night. Imagining it was his fingers instead of yours bringing you to your peak. You bit your fist as you came, muffling your moans and preventing you from calling his name out into the night.

The next day, he had gone out once again. When he returned, you noted his armor had some new scratches, some of the fresh green paint chipped away. He beckoned you forward with a wave, following him to the throne room. He sat with a heavy sigh. You stood before him, waiting for his direction, when he removed his helmet and set it aside. There was a new cut on his cheek, dried blood sticking to his skin.

"You're hurt," you said, stepping forward. Boba grunted noncommittally in response, reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling out a small container of bacta.

"Use this," his voice was gravelly and he tossed the container to you. He...wanted you to put the bacta on him? Your pulse kicked up. But you would do as he asked.

You unscrewed the lid, swiping your finger through the gel. "What happened?" You asked as you spread it as gently as you could over the cut.

"Those hunters from yesterday," he sighed. "Thought they could catch me unaware out in the dunes. Their last mistake." He chuckled. "This was really the only hit I took," he gestured to the cut along his cheek. You had finished spreading the bacta, but your hand still lingered. You were entranced, being this close to him. Your thumb mindlessly caressed his cheekbone.

"Mayen," he said your name. You met his eyes, the heat in his gaze taking you by surprise. He always had fire and fight in him, but this wasn't like that. It was wanting. Boba grasped your wrist of the hand that still held his face, his other coming up to cup the back of your head.

Then you were kissing him.

You don't know if you leaned down or if he pulled you down or if he leaned up or if it even mattered, all you cared about was his rough lips against yours. When you gasped into it, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Boba's kisses were all consuming, overwhelming--he demanded all of you, and wouldn't accept any less.

He leaned back, bringing you with him so you had no choice but to straddle his lap or be pulled off-balance. You settled along his thighs, sighing as you could now grind your center against his stiffening member. He nipped your bottom lip, breaking away to press kisses down your throat.

“Tell me, sweetheart…” he murmured, worrying a mark into the delicate skin of your neck.

You whined, rolling your hips against his. His hands clamped down like durasteel around your hips, stilling you. “Tell me. We stop if you say so.”

“I want you, Boba,” you gasped, and he rewarded you with another hickey sucked into your neck. He guided your hips back into a slow grind, thrusting up against you. The layers of clothes between you dulled the sensation, but warm waves of pleasure still radiated through you. You cradled his jaw, bringing his lips back to yours, before trailing your palms down his chest. You pawed at his chestplate and robes, making him chuckle.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased you lightly. You squeaked when he pinched your ass. “Take this off, princess.” His hands slid up under your tunic, running up and down your sides before caressing your breasts.

You lifted your arms, helping him slide your shirt over your head. Instinctively, your arms came down to cover yourself, but Boba tutted at you. “Don’t get shy on me now, mesh’la. Let me see you.” He murmured in your ear before lightly nipping the lobe, sending shivers down your spine. He encouraged you to put your hands back on his chest. You whined against him, need building in your core as he undid your bindings and continued to guide your hips in a deep grind.

Boba’s fingers crept along the waistband of your pants before diving inside. You moaned as they landed on your clit. “This wet already? Someone’s a needy little thing.” You felt your face heat at his teasing accompanied by his rough fingers circling your clit built you up even more. You hid your face in his shoulder, grinding against his hand for more of that raw pleasure. Boba suddenly pressed hard against your clit in a tight circle, making you cry out loudly and grip his robes for dear life.

“Boba, please,” you whined, lips tracing his throat, his jaw, wherever you could reach. You brought your own hand down to cup him through his pants, running your hand along his bulge. He cursed lightly in your ear as you gently squeezed him.

“Up,” he said, patting your ass. You stood, taking the opportunity to shimmy out of your pants and panties. He lounged back against the throne, taking in your form. You didn’t cover yourself this time. “Good girl. Come here.” You stepped between his spread knees and he took you by the elbow, pulling you down and turning you so your back was pressed to his chest and your legs were spread by his own. His touch returned to your clit, sliding through your slick folds to tease your entrance. You pressed your ass back against his hardness and he groaned.

His arm banded around your waist as he finally slid a finger into your dripping entrance. You gasped, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. When he introduced a second one, you began to squirm. The stretch was so good as his fingers slid within you, curling and pressing into that perfect spot that sent you soaring. You were practically riding his hand, your hips circling as his fingers moved faster and faster.

“Oh,” you gasped as he added a third, legs trembling. Your hand shot to his where it was locked around your middle, holding you against him, while your other curled up and back, turning his head so you could kiss him. Boba found that spot in you that made you clench tight around him and zeroed in with deadly precision. You felt him grin smugly against your lips as your breathing stuttered. “Boba!”

“Look at you, so desperate for my fingers. Squeezin’ me so tight, sweetheart, can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

You found yourself teetering at the edge of release. You turned your head, burying your nose in Boba’s neck. “Please, Boba, g’nna cum, please--” you gasped out. It was a good thing he held you to him, else you would have been bucking off his lap.

“Cum on my fingers, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you tipped over the edge of orgasm, cumming hard around Boba’s fingers. Your cunt flooded with wetness, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into you becoming even wetter. If he hadn’t been holding you to his chest you would have doubled over with the devastating pulses of pleasure rocking through you from your center. He continued working you through it until you whined, pushing at his hand that still moved between your thighs, need building up in you again.

Boba brought his fingers up to his mouth and you moaned at the sight of him sucking and licking them clean of your arousal. “Taste so sweet,” he said. “Open.” You opened your mouth, and he slid his fingers inside. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around his fingers like you would his cock. Boba groaned. "Dirty girl."

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and you begged. "Want your cock, please, Boba--please fuck me, please--"

"Hush, needy pet. You'll get what you want." He bit your neck, the sharp pinpricks fading into a warm buzz that made you squirm, wiggling your hips on his lap. Boba reached down between you two and shifted himself out of his robes, sliding his cock against your soaked folds. You looked down and Maker, he was thick. You were suddenly glad he made you take three fingers--you hoped you would be able to take his cock.

He rutted against you, his cock sliding through your folds and pulling breathless little gasps from you each time his head nudged your clit. Each slick drag of him against your lips coated his cock in your wetness. Boba evidently grew tired of teasing you, because he urged you up and took hold of the base of his cock, guiding it to your dripping entrance. You moaned at the feeling of his thick tip splitting you open, sinking down the first inch.

Boba's hand came around to rub little circles on your clit, making you jerk against him, his other hand caging you in by your hip. Slowly, he encouraged you to sit back on his lap, the thick drag and push of his cock working inch-by-inch deeper into you. Stars, you felt him in your fucking guts. Your thighs trembled, and when your ass touched his lap you nearly sobbed from how full you felt.

"Look at that," he murmured into your hair. "Takin' me so well, princess. Feels fucking good, doesn't it?" You clenched around him at his words, making him choke off a moan. He rubbed your clit a tick faster just to feel you spasm around him again and he laughed at your high gasp of pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was too good--that ache, the raw sparks shooting down your legs and up your spine. Shifting the slightest bit pushed him right up something devastating inside you and you couldn't stop the wrecked moan that tore from your throat. Boba gave an experimental thrust and you nearly shrieked and lurched off of him, if he hadn't grabbed a hold of your hips and held you on his lap. You babbled senselessly, too overwhelmed as every ridge of his cock pressed your walls just right. "B-Boba, Boba, move, please--"

His big hand slapped your inner thigh and this time you did wail, the hot sting fading into a pleasant, buzzing warmth. His fingers dug in to the soft flesh hard enough that you knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers come morning. Then he lifted you slightly off him, cock sliding only a few inches out, before pulling you down in time with a thrust upwards, burying himself in you with a deep grind. You let out a choked moan, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

"Ride," he demanded. Your breath hitched as you scrambled for purchase, hands going to his strong thighs for support. It was sort of an awkward position, your feet barely touching the floor, requiring you to go on your tiptoes to pull a few inches off his cock. Boba's thick fingers cupped your pussy in a V shape, so every time you rose and fell they rolled against your clit. You couldn't tell if you wanted to push your hips back away or forward for more stimulation.

He slapped your other thigh this time, rubbing to soothe the sting, encouraging you to bounce on his cock faster. Your breath was coming in high, moaning pants as each drop of your hips buried him deep inside you, reaching places you never had and lighting up your nerves like a star gone supernova. Paired with his touch teasing your clit with every thrust, you weren't going to last long.

Boba's hands on your hips guided you faster, rougher--each downstroke hitting deep and holding you there for a second just to feel how full, how stuffed your pussy was of him. His thrusts up as you dropped down allowed his cock to hit your g-spot dead on, over and over. You felt yourself rhythmically clenching around him, heard his groans as your cunt strangled his cock, and you were so close to cumming again. The feeling coiled up at the base of your spine, the pleasure winding tighter and higher and ready to burst.

And then--then Boba hooked his hands under your knees, pulling your legs up so all your weight rested on where he was buried in you, and he slipped another inch further inside. You couldn't stop the sob of pleasure as he held you like this, open for him to take, and he set a punishing pace. The dull slap of skin-on-skin paired with the wet gush of your arousal around him, dripping down his balls and onto the throne, made your head tip back onto his shoulder and wrenched moan after moan out of you.

You were talking, babbling nonsense--begging, pleading for him to make you cum again. Boba tilted his hips just right and you keened as it pushed his cock right against the soft spot along your walls. Each thrust shoved you closer to the edge right until that coil inside you snapped. Your legs shook and your pussy clamped down so hard around Boba's cock that it stunted him to short, shallow thrusts as you rode it out. You distantly heard him groaning, praising you, telling you good girl, good fuckin' girl--you were spasming around him, each jolt of pleasure like a white-hot knife radiating from your core to your toes. Boba kept fucking you through it and you nearly begged him to stop--it was too much, the bite of overstimulation burning your nerves--when he pulled you down, fucking into you as deep as he could and he came with a groan of your name, cock throbbing as his release coated your walls.

Somehow, you ended up turned, face buried in his neck and legs wrapped around his waist as you trembled and caught your breath. His hands trailed up and down your spine and thighs in soothing motions as you came back down. You sighed and cuddled closer to him, the hard beskar plating cold against your bare skin, but it felt good on your overheated body.

"Made quite a mess on me, sweetheart," he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest under your ear. You just mmm'd and clung closer to him while he chuckled. It was true. Your arousal coated your thighs, dripped down onto the throne, soaked Boba's cock where it was still buried in you. Boba pulled his robe around you and stood, supporting you with his hands under your thighs. "Come on, little one, let's go to bed." You closed your eyes as he made his way out of the throne room and through the palace. He didn't drop you off in your bedroom, instead taking you to his and laying you in the spacious bed before stripping off his armor and joining you.

#boba fett x reader #boba x reader #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #the mandalorian #reader insert #no y/n #boba fett x you #boba x you #my writing

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