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dienamights · 3 years

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Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!): noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex.

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

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The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job.

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?”

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds.

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?”

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home.

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs?

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it.

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise.

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet.

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute.

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him.

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.”

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating.

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.”

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain.

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself?

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can��t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him.

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there.

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood.

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness.

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now.

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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bangtanloverboys · 3 years

Text

until i see you again // ksj

summary - prince seokjin of philos is chosing his bride at his 25th birthday ball and you want to be anywhere but there. unfortunately you’re expected to go as a friend of the king and to escort your younger sister there; to see if she has a chance to win the prince’s heart. unbeknowst to you all, the prince’s eyes are already set upon someone

pairing - prince!seokjin x duke!reader

genre - fluff, angst; royalty au, childhood friends to lovers au,

word count - 9.1k

warnings - historical inaccuracies, reader being an idiot, kissing, implied/referenced homophobia (it’s very slight, won’t even notice it if you squint), sad ending, star crossed lovers, miscommunication but it’s in the worst way possible

author’s note - sorry not sorry for making sad gay stuff oops; clast is part of the title, not yn’s actual family name. additionally, i put in a hint to new fic in here 👀 also @jinpanman since u asked to be tagged 💕 here u go

The stars had always fascinated you since you were a young lad; the shapes they made and the stories behind them, the way they always shifted in the night sky. While the view from your bedroom window at the castle was great, it could never show the full wonderful picture that was the night sky. Hence why you were now laying in the palace garden and staring up into the vastness before you, your arms folded behind your head.

“Y/N.” A familiar voice startled you into sitting up, only to see the silhouette of the Crown Prince Seokjin standing a few feet behind you. You were surprised to see him outside, but it wasn’t necessarily a shock seeing as your current place of residence was his home, the Castle of Philos. Your father, the Duke of Clast, was a close friend of the King, thus meaning he was invited to a lot of formal events. The Castle Philos was practically a second home to you, making it’s prince a close friend of yours.

Of course your friendship was by no mere accident. It was by the design of both of your fathers’, wanting their allegiance to hold strong even with the new generation. Neither of you seemed to mind though, you both seemed to get along great with one another. But as the two of you grew up from boys and slowly approached manhood, you felt something else grow deep within your chest each time you saw the prince.

“Seokjin, you scared me!” You whisper shouted at him as sat himself next to you on the grass. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorted. “I saw you from the window, thought I might join you.” Your cheeks burned at his response as you watched him lay back on the grass, assuming the same position you had only moments ago.

The sight of the young prince was something to behold as he lounged on the lawn, being at only 18 years old he was already picture perfect for everything a prince should be: honorable, intelligent, merciful. One quality you had heard whispered amongst the court ladies was how handsome he was, something not even you could deny. His dark eyes emulated the night sky, reflecting the stars up above. The soft angle of his jaw paired with the dark hair that fell over his forehead framed his face beautifully. Then there was his lips, they looked soft and pillowy; and you wanted nothing more than to feel them for yourself-

“Are you going to lay down or continue to sit there and stare?” He questioned you, raising a sculpted brow at you.

The burn extended past your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You laid down beside him, hoping the cool grass could possibly lower your growing temperature. You laid there, stiff next to him as your gaze locked back onto the sky. Neither of you said a word as the stars twinkled like diamonds above you. You heard the prince shift in his position, now resting on his elbow and staring down at you.

“You’re thinking.”

“How would you know?” You scoffed at his (correct) assumption of your silence. While your voice remained steady, your head was reeling at his closeness. If he came any closer, he could’ve heard your heart thumping away against your chest.

“You forget Y/N, I know you better than you know yourself.” He gave you a sly wink before he slipped back to lay his head back down. “Just relax, whatever it is you’re thinking, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

You open your mouth to protest but a loud booming voice of your name echoed in your ears.

“Y/N. . .Y/N. . . Wake up!” The voice of your younger sister bleeding through as you jolted awake. “Coachman said we’re nearly there.” Through bleary eyes, you glanced about your surroundings. Seated across from you was your sister, Jia, who stared at you as you blinked away the sleep from your eyes. You turned your head to the window, watching as the green countryside slowly began to turn into the village outside the castle.

“How long was I out?” You inquired as you moved to sit up properly.

“A few hours,” she responded with a shrug. “Did you have a nice dream?”

“How would you know I was dreaming?” You asked her, still fatigued from the unplanned nap.

“You were smiling.”

Your heart stung at her words; the question was innocent enough, but a reminder of the hurt you’ve felt since that night. You almost didn’t want to answer her original question, but the eager look on her face had you sighing. No way in hell would she go without an answer. Keeping a neutral face, you replied. “It was a pleasant dream.” That was all you said. There was a slight twinge of disappointment, but she took the answer nonetheless.

Letting out a sigh, you leaned back against the wall of the carriage, thinking back on the dream. It had been almost 7 years since that night with the prince. That was the last, what one might call, intimate moment with him. Because since that night, you had both been bombarded with your respective duties; him as prince and you as a duke to be. Surely you had seen him between then and now, but those moments were brief and far inbetween. In fact the last time you saw him was at the funeral of your father, sometime last year. You don’t remember much of that meeting, overwhelmed with grief to even process that he was giving you his condolences.

But soon enough, you shall be reunited with the Crown Prince for this 25th birthday. Normally you would’ve been excited about going to see Seokjin, all you could feel in your stomach was dread. The reason being as to your visit was because his usual birthday ball had been twisted by his father for him to find a bride. All the eligible ladies in the land, which included your sister, were invited for him to pick one of them out as his future wife. The mere thought of it had you sick to your stomach. Your sister had a possibility of marrying your childhood best friend and your unrequited love, and you had to stand back and watch.

“Can you tell me again what he’s like?” Jia’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Being a few years younger than you, she never got a chance to truly interact with Seokjin; and since the trip began, hell even before then when the invitation arrived, every few hours she would ask about him. What he was like, what he liked, if he was nice. Why she would ask this when all she had to do was wait a few hours before meeting him herself, you’d never understand.

“Prince Seokjin is nice. He enjoys reading the history of the 7 kingdoms. When his father goes out hunting, he is usually required to join, but he will do anything he can to get out of it.” You droned as you stared out the window, surveying the commoners as you passed them by.

“You’ve told me all this before though,” she whined, “What else is there to know about him? What was he like when you were boys?” When you remained silent, she poked at your knee, attempting to get some sort of answer out of you. “Come on, Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention towards Jia. “He’s always been fascinated with food and the process the cook would go about making it.” You started, noticing how your sister leaned forward, hanging on your every word. “We’d sneak into the kitchens, and he would just watch the cook as he cut up vegetables and meats. He’d go on about how if he wasn’t the prince, he’d want to be the cook.”

Jia barked out a laugh, “Did he really? For such a handsome man, he sure has some interesting habits.”

You gave a noncommittal hum as your stare returned to the window, watching as the villagers made their way out of the street and gawk at your carriage in awe. You could tell the journey was slowly coming to a close, and you weren’t sure if you wanted it to end yet. The dirt road turned to cobblestone beneath the wheels, it was only a matter of minutes before you arrived at the palace steps.

Jia frantically began flattening out her gown and making sure her hair wasn’t out of place. The trip from Philos Castle to the Clast Manor was merely a half day's ride, it wasn’t like much had changed from when she had left.

You exited the coach first, immediately greeted by a handful of guards who were lined up the stairs of the castle. You wondered how long they’d been there and how long they’d have to be until everyone had arrived. Glancing about, you saw that there were a few more carriages arriving in the courtyard.

The clearing of Jia’s throat pulled you back to the task at hand, you extended your arm out for her to grab onto as she stepped out onto the cobblestone. “Wow,” she awed as she stared up at the vast castle before her. You couldn’t blame her, the sight of Philos Castle was something to behold, especially if it was your first time seeing it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the footmen pulling down your luggage and ready to carry it to your rooms. A silent notice that it was time for the two of you to get going. “Come along, Sister.” You started as you began to climb the steps.

Upon reaching the main entrance, you were greeted with the familiar face of the Steward, who perpetually looked like he had just tasted the world’s most sour candy. “Your Grace,” he bowed to you. “And Lady Jia. The King and prince are greeting their guests in the Grand Hall. Follow me.” That said, he turned and made his way down the hall. With you and your sister on his heels practically the entire way, you arrived at the Grand Hall.

The Grand Hall certainly lived up to its name. With high ceilings, beautiful pieces of art mounted on the walls, all glittering in the light of a golden chandelier. It was the picturesque dream of wealth and beauty. But all of its beauty couldn’t compare to Prince Seokjin, who stood at the end of the hall. Since the last time you saw him nearly a year ago, he still looked as handsome as ever. He was smiling at his father when the two of you entered, but when his gaze turned to you, you swore his smile grew bigger; brighter even. Keeping your eyes forward, you could feel Seokjin’s gaze on you, not wavering as you got closer.

Next to him, the King let out a loud belly laugh as the two of you approached him. “Ah, Clast! It’s good to see you, my boy.” He bellowed out as you and your sister stopped in front of him.

“It’s good to see you too, Your Majesty.” You responded as you and your sister bowed respectively before him, all the while you could feel the prince’s burning stare. “May I introduce my sister, the Lady Jia.” With her introduction, she curtsied again before the two royals.

“It’s a pleasure, Your Majesty.” She smiled as she rose up.

“The pleasure is all mine. I assume you know my son, Seokjin.” He gestured to his right to where the prince stood, silently staring at you. “Seokjin!” His father hissed, catching his attention.

His head jerked to attention at his name being called. “Sorry, yes. It’s lovely to see you again Clast- and meet you too, of course, Lady Jia.” He stumbled over his words as he bowed his head. “Apologies, my mind has been elsewhere.”

“It’s no worries, Your Highness.” You waved off his slip.

“Anyways!” The King clasped his hands together. “The two of you must be tired from your journey, the steward shall show you to your chambers.” He gestured to the same sourface Steward stepped forward. “I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow night, Clast.”

“I can’t wait, Your Majesty.” You returned the king’s sentiments as you and your sister were led out of the hall, still feeling the prince’s stare seer into your back as you walked further and further away from the Grand Hall.

Soon as the Grand Hall was far behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Had seeing Seokjin again affected you this much? While you had managed pretty fine to hold yourself together for that meeting, how on Earth were you going to manage the ball where he had to choose a wife? You couldn’t avoid him, there’s no doubt he’d want to catch up after not seeing you at all the past year. God, you felt like a fool for coming and thinking you’d be able to push your feelings out of the way. But your mother and sister jumped at the chance for the possibility of marrying the prince. Thus, you had no choice but to accompany your sister to the palace.

As the Steward led you down the winding hallways, you noticed that the hallways started to become more and more familiar. Considering you had dreamt of these hallways mere hours ago, it wasn’t that hard to place them from your memory. The King had set aside certain rooms for your family when you visited, you can’t say you were surprised or not about them still being set aside for you. Perhaps it was to still honor your father, or keep the good relationship between your families. However you were surprised to see the Steward stop in front of the heavy oak door of the room that was once your father’s.

“Your Grace shall be staying here,” he announced as he opened the door. You stepped through the threshold, inhaling deeply as you glanced around the space. Your trunk was at the foot of the bed. The same bed he slept in, the same desk he worked at, the same books he read on the shelves. What felt stranger how despite the room not being occupied in years, it still held the same scent of leather bound books and ink. The scent of your father. “I hope the chamber is to your liking.” The Steward’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you.”

“Very well, if the Lady Jia could please follow me.” With that, he shut the door. The distinct steps of him and your sister fade away down the hall as he escorted her away.

Now alone, realization began to creep over you. When the invitation to the prince’s ball arrived you didn’t want it to be true. In fact, you almost pushed it so far back in your mind you nearly tricked yourself into believing it was just a bad dream. One that you’d wake up from any moment now. But now that you were finally there at the palace, a mere day away from the event. You were going to be sick.

The sick knot in your stomach didn’t leave you the rest of the day, despite your best attempts at any distraction. You tried to keep ahead on some of the needs and resources of your providence, read a few chapters of a book you pulled from one of the shelves, changed out of your traveling clothes, anything to keep your mind off the inevitable ball tomorrow night yet nothing seemed to succeed.

By the time the sun had fallen below the horizon, you still felt the overwhelming dread. So much so that you barely ate the dinner that was privately presented to you, barely being able to get more than a few bites down. In the midst of picking at your meat, there was a knock on your door. Curious as to who would be here so late in the evening, you unlatched the door to see Prince Seokjin standing before you.

“Y-Your Highness,” you stuttered out, not expecting him at such an hour.

“Are we really referring to each other as titles? I thought we knew each other better than that, Y/N.” He said with a breathy laugh.

The sound of his voice speaking your name was music to your ears. Loving the way each syllable fell off his lips, before you could stare at his mouth any longer than you probably already were, you cleared your throat. “Seokjin,” his face lit up when you called him by his name, “what are you doing here?”

“I thought we could catch up a bit? Seeing how we weren’t able to properly when you first arrived.” He shrugged, as if the plans were obvious.

You hesitated a bit, seeing the late hour and if this would even do your heart any good considering you had 24 hours to attempt to get over him.

“If you don’t want to, I understand.” He added, filling the silence you had provided. “It’s late, and you had a long journey. I’ll let you rest.” He began to turn, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, your hand wrapping around his wrist. When you realized how brash your action was, you released him, silently cursing yourself. “We can catch up, if that is what you wish.”

A smile grew on his face. “Of course! You still like stars, correct?”

You were taken back by his question. While you still had the fascination with stars, you had very little time nowadays to look at them. In fact the last time you even had time to look at stars was the night from your dream, when the prince laid down next to you in the castle gardens. Since that night, you’ve been too exhausted to stay up late enough to examine the night sky. “Yes?”

“Brilliant! Follow me,” he grabbed your hand and whisked you down the hallway, barely giving you enough time to shut your door. Seokjin led you through the passages, only the moonlight shining through the windows to guide you. Your heart was going to beat out of your chest, with your hand snug in his grasp.

He led you up a large door. With his free hand, Seokjin opened it, exposing a staircase before you. As the two of you started to climb up, you were beginning to recognize where you were going. “Are we-?”

“Shh! We’re almost there!” He shushed you as you arrived at the top of the stairs, revealing the observatory to you. You’re in absolute awe of the room, the large windows making up the walls and ceilings; the moon fully illuminating your surroundings. “Over here!” Seokjin tugged you towards the direction of one of the windows, a telescope set up and ready for use.

You pulled your hand from his grasp and let your hands trace over the cool brass, enthralled with the device before you. When the two of you were boys, you weren’t allowed in the tower observatory in fear that you might break something. When you got older, you’d only been in there once before, but never beneath a clear night sky.

A rush of chill air hit your body, you looked up to see the prince had opened up a window, giving more room for the telescope. “Take a look!” He stepped away from the device, making space for you.

Leaning down, you peered into the eyepiece. A gasp escaped your lips as you took in the brilliance of the stars right before your very eyes. You could pinpoint a few of the constellations you remember reading about. But instead of the fuzzy dots you were so used to seeing, you saw them clearly; they seemed even brighter. “Wow, Seokjin, I. . .” you straightened to look at him, who looked very pleased with himself, “I don’t know what to say? This is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in years.” That was partially a lie. He was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life, nothing could top him.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a sly smile. “I got it recently and I thought of you.”

“You. . . thought of me?” Your heart fluttered at the thought.

“Of course, Y/N.” He took a step closer to you, “I always think of you.” His words were soft as he gently raised his hand to your face, brushing a few stray hairs from your eyes. Your breath hitched as the tips of his fingers grazed over your skin. Meeting his eyes, you noticed for a split second that his gaze flickered down to your mouth. Then he slowly began to lean towards you. Your feet turned to stone, you couldn’t move as he got closer and closer to you. You weren’t sure what was happening. It couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream. Your mind was racing at a million thoughts a second, as Seokjin got closer and closer. Just about when the prince’s lips seemed to hover over your own-

DONG

The sound of a clock chimed loudly in the observatory, shattering the moment and bringing you back to reality. Immediately, you stepped away from Seokjin, your face burning hot. “It’s late. I- I need to get to bed.” You turned away from him, embarrassed at what had just happened.

“Right.” There was a twinge of dismay in his voice as he spoke. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”

“That won’t be necessary!” You cringed at how quickly you rejected his offer. “It’s late, and your chambers are farther than mine. Goodnight, Your Highness.” You bowed your head then rapidly made your way back down the stairs, barely hearing the prince’s ‘Goodnight’ in return.

The following morning you did not want to get out of bed. You did not- could not face the prince again after last night. What happened had to have been a dream, it had to be. But the clear memory of the stars, how you could vividly recall the way your hand fit into his all proved you otherwise. It actually happened, and you couldn’t help but feel humiliated. He was getting married soon, for God Sake! And it couldn’t be you. It will never be you.

Eventually had to get up. Dressing yourself up a bit, but you remained in your room. Deciding to read and work on any paperwork, distracting yourself from even thinking about Seokjin.

You managed to do so quite nicely up until the hours before the ball was to start. Outside your window, spotting the hustling of all the castle staff trying to finish up the last of the preparations, scrambling to get them done. However all the chaos from outside the window and outside your door pulled you from your progress of not thinking of the prince or the party. All throughout the halls, people were gossipping about the prince and which lady he would choose as his possible wife.

When the clock struck the hour, signalling that the ball was to start, you knocked on the door to your sister’s chambers. “If that’s you Y/N, I’m nearly ready. You can come in!” She called from the inside. With a roll of your eyes, you pushed open the door to see your sister sitting in front of a vanity, a maid-servant finishing up her hair. Looking at you through the mirror, Jia lips quirked up into a smile. “Why don’t you look handsome, Brother.”

You take a quick glance at yourself behind her; you’re dressed only more elevated than usual. Fresh pair of trousers and shoes on, your waistcoat buttoned neatly, and your hair is more styled. Other than that, you look practically the same as you would on any other day. Not wanting to argue with your sister, you merely bowed your head in thanks.

“What do you think of the dress?” Jia asked as the maid finished with her hair, she stood to reveal the full picture. The style of the dress was similar to something she had worn to your ascension, yet this was light blue in color. There was no grand design amongst the dress, it was simple and fitting.

“You look lovely,” you responded.

“Thank you. You said he liked blue, correct?” She questioned as she began to slip on her gloves.

“Pardon?”

“The prince? His favorite color is blue?” She clarified as she walked over to you. “Honestly, Y/N, where is your head? I’m trying to gain his favor. Helps that I have his best friend as a brother.” She chortled as she linked arms with you.

“Right, yes. He favors blue.” You muttered as you turned towards the door. “Right, well, let’s get going. Don’t want to be late.” You forced a cheerful tone. With that, your sister smiled at you and you began to make your way towards the ballroom.

Already you saw lines of fabulously dressed noble women and royals from across the seven kingdoms, all willing to try and win Prince Seokjin’s affections. You saw a few familiar faces as you escorted your sister about the room; friends of your late father, fellow dukes and viscounts, even a couple visiting princes. All of which were either here to escort the most eligible woman in their family or merely showing support for the prince’s birthday.

About an hour in, Jia excused herself to try and gain a dance with the prince, leaving you standing alone at the sidelines; watching Seokjin dance with lady after lady after lady. He was a talented dancer, dancing gracefully with each partner. With each dance, you couldn’t help but notice a disinterested look grow on his face. A few times when you thought he caught your eye, you spotted a glimmer in his eye. A spark of happiness that managed to peak through his facade. But when he turned, causing his partner to face you. You saw a proud smirk on their face, as if they were the ones that made him perk up.

“Clast? Is that you?” A familiar voice called out to you. Turning your head to follow the voice, you spotted the owner of the voice. Prince Yoongi of Lun was making his way towards you, pushing his way through the crowd. “It’s good to see you.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

With a smile, you took it. “Good to see you too, Your Highness. How are things?”

“Good, everything is good. You’re here on behalf of your sister, I suppose?” He asked as his hand retreated.

The mention of your sister had your chest aching, reminding you of the entire situation once again. “Y-yes. She is somewhere in the crowd, waiting her turn.” Hopeful that he didn’t catch on to your hesitation; you gestured over to the dance floor, as if you couldn’t see her waiting at the front of it.

It was clear that he had noticed it, yet he didn’t point it out, only saying “I see.” He turned to face the crowd next to you, standing in silence as the band played on. “Have you married yet, Clast?” He questioned.

“No, h-haven’t had the time.” Your basic response to whenever anyone questioned your marital status, a normal question made by men wanting to set you up with their daughters. Why would Yoongi be asking you that though, you thought to yourself, unless he was thinking about asking to set you up with someone? But that couldn’t be, as you don’t recall him having any female relatives.

“Not having the time. . .” He repeated, laughing softly to himself. “Surely you’ve had enough time, attending balls like this? You’re a young man with a title, young ladies and their mothers must be crawling over you.” He further inquired.

“Well, yes. . .” you struggled to rack your mind for a plausible excuse. He was for the most part correct, parties like this usually had young eligible noble women practically throwing themselves on to you. But upon your excuse, they usually backed away. Not further question you. “It’s just-uh-”

Before you managed to come up with a concrete answer, Yoongi spoke again. “You don’t need to answer that. But to a degree, I can understand you.”

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t think I follow?”

“You’re in love, are you not?” He turned his head to you, a knowing expression. You opened your mouth to deny it, but no words came out. “It’s clear as day. But for some reason, you cannot be with them. Yet you long to be.” His face seemed to fall a bit at his words and he turned to face the crowd again. “Believe me, you’re not alone in that sort of suffering.” His gaze fixated on a young male servant, who stood at the edge of the ballroom, tray in hand. For a fraction of a second, you saw a soft smile across his face. But soon as the smile was there, it was gone. “Take my advice, don’t let him get away.” He gave your shoulder a firm pat before he walked back into the crowd, not permitting a response from you.

Glancing back to the center of the dance floor, you made eye contact with Seokjin. This time there was no denying it. He beamed at you and suddenly all the people in the room seemed to fade away, like it was only the two of you. He was radiant in the light of the ballroom, his smile radiating happiness. Yoongi was right, you were in love with the prince and you wanted nothing more than to be by his side.

With his advice echoing in your mind, you moved to take a step forward but your legs felt like lead. All at once, the golden glow of the ballroom faded to grey; the prince’s bright light dimmed, dark shadows danced at the edge of your vision. You could feel all of the court staring at you, whispering amongst themselves. Jia’s eyes were locked on you, fire burning in them The King frowned in disapproval. There were too many eyes on you. Your heartbeat was in your ears, throbbing against your skull. At the center of it all, Seokjin stood out in the crowd, his features twisted with concern. He mouthed something to you, something you couldn’t make out. You took a step backward, it felt easier than moving forward. You took another, and another, until you turned on your feet and dashed out of the ballroom.

Air, you needed air. Quickly, you weaved your way through the busy hallways until you found the door to the garden terrace. Thankfully, no one from the party seemed to have come outside as of recently, leaving you alone. You let your hands rest upon the stone railing as you caught your breath, the cool night air filling your lungs. Raising your head up, you stare up at the sky, the moon staring back down at you.

“You alright?” Whipping around, you saw Seokjin standing in front of you, the light of the open door behind him giving him a golden halo. “Y/N?”

You turned back around, staring back out into the gardens. “I’m fine.”

His steps against the stone echoed, only stopping once he was practically right behind you. “Don’t lie to me, what happened?”

You barely understood what had happened. One moment you were filled with confidence, ready to pull him to the side to speak with him. Then the next you felt nothing but shame. The judgement of the court, your sister, the king. You couldn’t tell him. Yoongi had sweet sentiment, but it just couldn’t be. He was the prince! And you were a duke. A man. You wouldn’t even be able to openly tell him you love him, let alone marry him! “I needed some air.”

“I could use some too, it was getting stuffy in there.” He responded as he continued to stand behind you. “Come on. We could both use a little break from the excitement.” You didn’t move, it was a bad idea to go with him. Just return to the party and move on. “Y/N. . ?”

Despite your better judgment, you turned to face him. His beautiful smile grew once you faced him. “Lead the way.”

He led you down the stairs of the terrace and into the gardens. Neither of you said anything, letting the music of the ball fade away into the sounds of the night. The further you walked away from the palace, the less concerned you found yourself about if the people were going to come looking for you. It was only you and Seokjin now.

He took a turn off the path, walking over the lawn towards the roses. Spotting a stone bench, he seated himself, you continued standing beside him. “You can sit, Y/N.” He gestured to the spot beside him. You hesitated for a moment before finally sitting down next to him. His knees brushed against yours as you both stared out over the gardens. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” He asked after a moment.

“Nothing is bothering me.”

“Y/N, I know you better than you know yourself.” Repeating the very same words he said nearly 7 years ago. “What’s the matter?”

Taking a deep breath, you answered. “You’re getting married.”

Seokjin frowned at your admission. “What on Earth gave you that idea?”

It was your turn to be confused. “Your father? On the invitations, it was a call that you’d be picking your future bride at this very ball.” You explained.

“Believe me when I say this Y/N,” he took your hands in his, “I have no intentions of picking a bride tonight nor ever.”

Those last few words echoed around in your brian. “Ever?”

“I can’t be with someone who I don’t love,” he said as if it were obvious. “When I become king, the only person I want by my side is you.”

Your hands grew clammy as your heart pounded against your ribs. “Seokjin, what are you saying?”

“Is it not obvious?” His hands moved to cup your face. When you met his eyes, the poor attempt at a wall that you tried to build over your heart broke away.

“I need to hear you say it,” your voice faltered, barely above a whisper.

Leaning in closer, his breath fanned over your lips. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for barely a moment before you closed the gap between you two. Your eyes fell shut and the entire world melted away, leaving only you and Seokjin being the only sole beings in that moment. And oh how you wanted to live in that moment forever. To know nothing else but the feel of his lips against yours, the sweet scent of the roses around you, the brisk air of the night tickling any exposed skin as you clung to each other.

You don’t know when but tears had begun to roll over your cheeks. The wetness passed over your lips, tasting of salt as you continued to kiss. The slight bitter taste had him pulling away, eliciting a whine to fall from you. He couldn’t leave now, not after how long you’ve dreamt of this moment! Opening your eyes, the blurry outline of Seokjin was whipping away your tears. Blinking the rest of them away, the clear image of him filled your mind, taking notes of any little detail. You had to remember this moment for the rest of your life.

“Why are you crying?” His voice was soft as his thumb caressed your tear stained face.

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” You responded, the last coming out in a sort of chuckle. Baffled at your own emotions.

“No more tears, love.” He brought his lips to your forehead, pressing a small kiss to it. “No more tears.”

Despite you nodding in agreeance, more tears fell from your eyes. Whether it be tears of relief or joy, you couldn’t stop them from flowing. Placing one of your hands over his, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. You opened your mouth but you could even manage to get a word out, a shout was heard.

“Prince Seokjin! Your Highness? Where are you?” An unfamiliar male voice called out.

Within a second, you pulled yourself away from him, fearful of being caught. Seokjin closed his eyes, letting out a huff, clearly upset with the interruption. “It appears our company has been missed.” He sighed as he stood up, straightening his overcoat. “I’m here! Clast and I were merely stepping away for a moment.”

The servant appeared around the corner; with the cover of the night, you doubt he saw you kissing, but you couldn’t be sure until he spoke again. “The King is calling for you, sir. He wants you to dance with the Princess of Maldonia.”

“Thank you, I’ll be with him right away.” Seokjin gave him a tight smile as he dismissed the servant, who promptly bowed and scurried back towards the party. “I’m sorry.” He sat back down, taking one of your hands in his.

“No, it’s not your fault.”

“But there’s so much we need to discuss-”

“Seokjin,” you squeezed his hand, “we’ll figure it out.”

With a smile on his lips, he kissed you one last time before standing again. The two of you walked hand in hand back towards the castle again. He stopped when you reached the stairs to the terrace. “I’ll send a letter to your room later tonight, I would stop by but I fear my father isn’t going to be happy with hearing me not choosing a bride.” He chuckled, looking down at your still linked fingers.

You laughed with him, before falling silent. The music of the party reminded you that you couldn’t remain there forever. “You need to go.” Seokjin didn’t move yet, still staring down at your hands, trying his damnedest to turn a single moment into a thousand.

“Not yet.”

Unfortunately, as soon as the words left his mouth the servant stepped out onto the terrace, forcing him to drop your hand. “Your Highness, the King is growing impatient.”

With a sigh, he made his way up the stairs. Once he reached the top, he looked back down at you. His smile was back on, glowing and beautiful, yet his eyes were pained as he spoke. “Good talk, Clast. Enjoy the rest of the party.” Then he turned toward the servant, following him back into the brightly lit hallways of the castle.

The rest of the party went by in a blur. When you returned to the ballroom, your sister came up to you and complained about how she didn’t get a chance to dance with Seokjin before he started dancing with the Princess of Maldonia. Whatever she said you didn’t hear, because you were too busy looking for the prince but he was nowhere to be found. The only prince you did make eye contact with was Prince Yoongi, who was standing across the hall, a knowing look on his face.

By the time the party was over and you had returned to your room, you were anxious to wait for Seokjin’s letter. You couldn’t help but think about what it might contain. Plans for the future? His feelings about you? You stayed up waiting for a servant to knock or perhaps it would slide beneath the door.

Yet nothing arrived.

You waited until the rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, but nothing came. Laying down on your bed, you felt a knot grow deep in your stomach. You thought of a million scenarios as to why. Perhaps by the time he talked with his father he fell asleep soon as he reached his room, or maybe he fell asleep writing it. You tried to be reasonable with your thoughts, but your mid went to darker places as you laid there. Did his father get mad at him for not wanting to choose someone and throw him in the dungeon? Were you spotted and he was getting punished? Would they come for you next? Or what you thought could be even worse, did he regret his confession?

It was 10 o’clock when a servant came to wake you, finding you red eyed and exhausted. He was clearly shocked by your current state, as you could see by his face, but he said nothing on it. “Your sister is nearly ready to go, Your Grace.”

“I’ll be ready in a moment,” you grumbled as you pulled yourself out of the bed. The servant bowed before he left, probably to get your carriage ready. One half of you wanted to get ready as fast as possible, leave the castle and never return. You’d hide away in Clast Manor forever. But the other half wanted to stay, find Seokjin and demand an answer as to why nothing came.

Once you were dressed and reorganizing your belongings into your trunk, there was a knock, followed by Jia throwing the door to your chambers open; quickly followed by some footmen.

“You were apprehensive to come and now you’re stalling to leave?” She raised a brow at your still open trunk.

“Had a lot on my mind, I apologize.” You dryly apologized as the servants shut your case and began carrying it out of the room. Your answer didn’t seem to satisfy her, as she rolled her eyes at you. “Let’s get going then,” you held out your arm for her to take. With a huff, she linked arms with you. The two of you walked in silence as your steps echoed in the halls.

As you turned towards the staircase that would lead you towards the entry hall, you heard your name called out. Turning, you spotted Seokjin running towards you. Glancing at your sister, she looked confused as the prince was making quite a hurry to get to you.

“Go wait by the carriage,” you told her, kissing her cheek. “I promise I’ll join you soon.”

“You better, or else I’m leaving without you.” She muttered as she started down the stairs, the footmen following behind her.

You watched her descend as Seokjin arrived behind you; putting on a brave face, you faced him. He looked nearly as tired as you were, yet somehow he managed to make dark circles under his eyes attractive. Opening your mouth to say something, he pulled you off to the side of the hall, hiding behind a larger planter.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to deliver it sooner,” he huffed out as he placed a sealed parchment in your hand.

“I-” you were stunned, for a moment you truly thought he might’ve regretted what happened last night. Yet here he was, parchment in hand. “Why? What took you so long?

“I uh- Well. . . you’ll know in the letter.” He waved your question away before taking both of your hands in his. “Promise me you’ll write as soon as possible? Please?”

You stared down at your joined hands, and all the hurt feelings from the night bubbled up to the surface again. The anxiety, fear, betrayal. It all came rushing back, but as you looked up to speak your mind, your words died in your throat. His pleading eyes bored into yours and butterflies erupted in your stomach. Sucking in a breath, you nodded. “I promise.”

Seokjin looked like he was going to cry as he heard your words, pulling you into his arms. You attempted to resist for a moment before melting into his embrace; wishing you didn’t have to leave so soon. Wishing you had more time to talk. His lips grazed over the shell of your ear, his breath fanned against your skin as he hesitated for a moment. He said nothing as he pressed a kiss then he pulled away. He gave you one last fleeting smile before he ran back down the hall, disappearing behind a corner.

Stuffing the letter into your pocket, you made your way down the stairs. As you approached the bottom, you came across the King as he was bidding some of his guests goodbye. Despite how badly you wished to leave as soon as possible, you couldn’t risk not saying goodbye to your host.

“Ah, there you are Clast! I hope you enjoyed the ball!” He said as he shook your hand tightly.

“It was a wonderful party, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.”

“But of course! I hope you can come around again for the wedding!” He patted your hand as he let go.

“W-wedding, Your Majesty?” You questioned as he turned to the person behind you.

“Goodbye, Clast. Have a pleasant trip home!” Either he didn’t hear you or he was purposefully ignoring the question. Whichever it was, your head felt like it was spinning as you exited the palace doors.

You spotted your carriage not far from the base of the steps, Jia looking thoroughly annoyed in the window as she waited for you. Carefully as you could, you made a beeline for the door. You didn’t even give a footman enough time to step down and open the door for you, just throwing it open and clambering in.

“Your Grace-?”

“Just go!” You snapped, waving your hand to signal for the coach to get moving. Seokjin’s letter burned through your clothes, you wanted nothing more than to rip it open and find out for yourself what the King meant by a wedding and what his explanation was. But with Jia sitting across from you, who was eyeing you like a caged animal, you had to wait till you returned home.

The journey to Philos was a long drag you will admit, but the return to Clast Manor felt like ages in comparison. Jia must’ve sensed your agitation as she said nothing the entire way back, not even a word when you stopped for supper at an inn a quarter through the way home. Soon as you arrived back at the manor, you took off towards your bedroom, not even bothering to greet your mother or other siblings. You could hear the murmurings of your family as you clambered up the staircase.

Once behind the safety of your locked chambers, you lit an oil lamp and pulled Seokjin’s letter out from your coat pocket. Your fingers traced over the seal of the prince, staring at the blue wax for a moment. The seal should’ve settled your anxiety yet it continued to bubble deep in your stomach. Breaking open the wax, you unfolded the paper to read what explanation Seokjin might have.

My dearest, Y/N

I’m sorry for such a delay, but I have unfortunate news. Apparently the ball was merely a facade of choice for me, Father has gone behind my back and arranged a marriage between the Maldonian Princess and myself in a fortnight. Upon my refusal, he locked me away in my room and won’t let me out until I agree to the union. With you waiting and about to leave in the morning, I have no other choice but to say yes. By the time you have read this, I will be engaged.

So there was your explanation of the wedding, the King was referencing. Your heart ached at the words, hating the news, but you read on.

I’ve devised a plan though, a plan for you and me to flee Philos and live together far away. Where no one can ever find us ever again. My title shall go to my cousin Hoseok, he shall rule Philos instead of I. Remember all those games and stories we made up where we didn’t have to be king or duke? Those dreams can become our reality! I know it sounds insane, but I’m ready and willing to do it.

For you.

Write back to me as soon as you can and we can begin our plot.

Until I see you again,

Seokjin

Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall onto the parchment. Not daring to drop the precious letter, you ran over to your desk and scrambled for fresh parchment. You were soaring above the clouds as you seated yourself down, reading your pen and ink. You held nothing back as you accepted his proposal to run away, ready and willing at any moment he proposed. You didn’t care about the ink droplets that fell or any scribbles of words you misspelled. All that mattered was you sent the letter off at first light.

Without even thinking, you heated up the blue ink your mother had not so subtly been purchasing for you, in hopes you’d find yourself a lover or a wife anytime soon. Pressing your personal seal into the hot wax, you officialized your promise to Seokjin.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the exhaustion of not sleeping at all the night before slowly caught up on you, barely giving you enough time to even properly undress before you collapsed onto your bed. That night you dreamt of your new life with Seokjin. The two of you so far away from anyone you might know, living in a cottage at the edge of the woods, perhaps selling bread to a nearby village. The both of you together, completely happy.

When you woke up the following morning, rushing down to a messenger to send off your letter to Philos at once. Despite the confusion of you just being there, the messenger followed the order and rode off fast as he could. The rest of the day you were in a chipper attitude, something your family was a bit surprised at considering the grim demeanor you held leaving the manor and arriving back last night.

However the happy attitude could last so long.

It should only take a day or two for the prince to respond to your correspondence, but when your messenger arrived back empty handed, you felt the familiar flood of anxiety rush through you again. You dismissed it though, perhaps he’s following through with his father and visiting Maldonia for some reason or other. Waiting a few more days, yet nothing arrived. You crafted another letter and sent it off with a different messenger that night. The only thing that returned was a wedding invitation.

You dropped the letter off in the parlor where your family were all visibly excited about a wedding. The only one sharing your glum mood of the announcement was Jia, who was mourning the loss of such a match. You didn’t even bother telling her it wouldn’t have worked out anyways, just sitting in silence as your littlest sister talked about how pretty a royal wedding was going to be.

The day of the wedding your mother all but dragged you out of bed to go, not even giving you a moment to even feign sickness.

“You must go in support of your future king and friend! I won’t have you wasting away all the work your father did for us to continue to be close friends of the royal family.” She scolded you, throwing wear onto your bed. With your younger siblings staying behind; you, Jia, your mother, and your other brother all got into the carriage and started off towards the capitol.

The city was decorated with ribbons and flowers as crowds of people lined up along the streets, waiting for a chance to get a glimpse at the royals and nobles arriving. You wished to be home at the manor, a nearby kingdom, just anywhere but have the man who broke your heart and made a fool of you stand in front of you and get married.

Exiting the carriage, you joined the line of the court to be escorted into the Grand Hall. With your mother on your arm, she pointed out the things that have changed since her last visit, but her chittering fell on deaf ears, you simply stared off into the distance as the entrance to the Grand Hall grew closer and closer. By the time you had arrived at the threshold, you were greeted by the king.

“Ah, Duke and Dowager Duchess of Clast, lovely to see you both.” The King greeted you as you both bowed before him. Taking your mother’s hand, he pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “And you’re looking wonderful, Dowager.”

“Oh thank you, Your Majesty. You’re too kind,” she giggled, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the scene.

“Clast, I'm glad you could make it.” He shook your hand next, “Seokjin has been. . . anxious to hear from you. He’d be so happy to see you’re here.” His grip on your hand tightened as his words began to register with you.

“Wait-”

“Enjoy the wedding,” he released your hand and moved on to the next guest. Your mother pulled you and your siblings in the direction of the pews. The voices of all the people echoing against the walls became muffled as you were seated down in the front of the hall, right in front of the altar. Thoughts were rushing through your mind faster than you could think of them.

Does that mean Seokjin didn’t purposefully not respond? Did he even receive your letters? Did his father know? How did his father know? You had to find Seokjin, perhaps you could come up with some sort of plan and you could still run away together after the wedding. You just had to find him-

The sound of a horn silenced the Grand Hall, everyone falling quiet as they stood and watched the Crown Prince walk down the aisle. The breath was sucked out of your lungs as he walked past you. He looked absolutely regal in his royal wear, his crown placed perfectly on his head, he looked every bit of the prince he was. The only give away there was to his true mood was his eyes; there were dark circles under his eyes, deeper than they were the last time you saw him. When he stopped at the altar, he turned, his eyes surveyed across the court.

His eyes met yours and his gaze sharpened. You felt all the hurt and pain you’ve been feeling returned to you tenfold in that moment alone. You wanted to run to him, scream and cry out for him. Tell him that you did write back, that you did want to run away with him, but you were frozen in your place.

When the music started up again, his eyes snapped to the aisle to watch his bride. He remained focused on the Maldonian Princess standing in front of him. The entire ceremony your eyes never left Seokjin, silently begging- pleading for him to turn and look at you.

But he never did.

#btsghostie #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #kim seokjin fluff #bts angst #kim seokjin angst #bts royalty au #prince seokjin #bts x male reader #kim seokjin x male reader #male reader #kim seokjin fanfic #prince seokjin x reader #bts prince au

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 4 years

Text

Sour Candy - Bakugou Katsuki

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Rating: 18+ (Smut) Words: 12,276 Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/F!Reader (Aged up, characters are in college) Warnings: Language, smut, Shinsou is kind of a dick, I made Bakugou a fan of LotR alright?

AN: I have been writing this for 84 years. This is my first attempt at Bakugou. Please be gentle lol. Shout out to @unbreakablekiribaku for listening to me talk about this fic since FEBRUARY and @420bakubaby for being one of the first people to read this and then scream at me for stopping mid smut for like 2 months. Bakugou’s poor neck lmfao. xoxoxo Masterlist is here Buy me a Kofi?

---

You sighed, resting your head on your folded arms at the table. You tuned out the chattering of the girls around you, Ashido and Hagakure giggling at something to your right.

“You okay, Y/N?” Uraraka shot you a concerned look from across the table, causing you to lift your head and gaze at her.

“Yeah, I’m just bored.” And lonely, but she didn’t need to know that. Your eyes fell back to the table in front of you.

“I think you just miss Shinsou.” Ashido’s tone was teasing and it caused you to roll your eyes a little. She hit the nail on the head, but it wasn’t him that you missed, not really. It was just the companionship. Sure, you had your girlfriends, but it wasn’t the same thing.

“I don’t miss him.”

“Did you break up?” Jirou leaned her face on her palm, raising her eyebrows and looking at you curiously.

You snorted. “We were never together. We just had an...arrangement.”

“He decided to focus on his training,” Ashido explained when you offered no further information. “They’ve decided to just be friends.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Tsu reached out and patted your arm from her place on the other side of the table, beside Uraraka.

You offered her a smile, letting your gaze fall to your lap. You weren’t all that sad about it. There were no real feelings between you and Hitoshi, there never had been. You just had a good time together, letting off a little steam when things became too stressful. You were proud of him for focusing on getting stronger, especially after everything he’d gone through when you were back in UA and how hard he’d worked to get into the hero course, and you didn’t hold his decision against him.

“You need a new distraction!” Hagakure trilled excitedly, breaking you from your thoughts. “We just need to find you a new boy.”

“I don’t need a new boy.” You groaned, leaning back. “I can function without one.” Eyes closed, your lips pulled into a frown. “I don’t want to do the meaningless sex thing again.”

Ashido, who clearly had not been listening, craned her neck to look around the cafeteria where you were having lunch. “What about Kaminari?”

You rolled your eyes. “Ashido, come on. I don’t want-”

“Ooh yeah!” Hagakure continued. “He’s cute, right? Maybe a little pervy, but I bet he’s kinky!”

Jirou gave her a look. “Keep it down! Don’t let him hear you say that! He’d never shut up about it.”

“He’s too easy. All I’d have to do is look at him and he’d cum in his pants.” Your lips curled up into a smirk, shaking your head. Kaminari was cute and you’d been friends for a long time, but you didn’t think the two of you would work out. Plus, you weren’t interested in him like that.

The table burst into a fit of giggles. Yaoyorozu leaned over from your other side. “You want a challenge then? What about Todoroki?”

All eyes slid to the other side of the cafeteria where Todoroki sat, eating his soba with his chopsticks quietly, while Kirishima and Sero were laughing loudly over his head.

“He’s gorgeous, but he scares me a little bit. Strong and silent types aren’t my thing.” He was a little too...obtuse a lot of the time. Social cues went right over that boy’s head.

“So gorgeous…” Ashido sighed, slumping across the table. “Okay, what about Kiri? I could put in a good word.”

You decided to let your friends have their fun, playing along. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t know about the secret crush you’d been harboring on a certain boy.

“Shark boy is tempting. I’d let him do anything he wanted to me. Have you seen him without a shirt? And those pointy teeth…” You trailed off, gazing into the distance.

“Eijirou has two quirks; hardening, and respecting women. He would probably be too vanilla for you.” Hagakure was right, of course.

“You never know, though. I’d like to call him Red Daddy Riot at least once.” You said dreamily, earning loud laughter from the girls around you. Kirishima was hot and had a great personality, but in all seriousness, he was just a friend.

“Midoriya?” Tsu suggested.

Your eyes shot to Uraraka, instantly noticing the blush on her cheeks. “Nah, he’s off-limits.” You were one of the only ones who knew how Uraraka felt about Deku, and you weren’t about to do that to her, so you shut that idea down quickly.

You turned back to the table the guys were occupying, eyes wandering over each of them with feigned interest.

“I’ve got it!” Ashido was too excited, her loud voice commanding the attention of the room. She sunk back into her seat when a few people turned their heads in your table’s direction.

All of the girls around you leaned in to hear her better when she beckoned them closer. “Bakugou.” She said conspiratorially, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“Do you think Y/N has a death wish?” Jirou huffed. “Ashido, that wasn’t a serious suggestion, was it?”

Uraraka winced, her pink cheeks getting ever pinker. “If you think Todoroki is scary, he’s nothing compared to Bakugou.”

Tsu, always the observant one, shook her head. “He’s not as mean as he makes himself out to be. He’s like sour candy.”

“Bitter on the outside, sweet on the inside?” Yaoyorozu was grinning, picking up on Tsu’s metaphor.

“If anyone could crack him, it’s you Y/N. You don’t put up with shit.” Ashido pressed on. “You’re strong too, and he’ll respect that. Plus, he’s nicer to you than he is to the rest of us.”

“That doesn’t mean much, cause he’s still kind of a dick to me.” You said. “But…” You glanced over to see Bakugou eating his sashimi with a permanent frown on his face. “If you think I’d let Kiri do whatever he wanted to me, then times that by a million, and that’s what I’d let Bakugou do.”

“I’d let him blow me up.” You could just picture Hagakure slumping over dramatically. “Those washboard abs, his bulging biceps…”

“You okay, Hagakure? Someone get the spray bottle.” Jirou’s eyes were alright with mirth, lips curled into a teasing smile.

“You think I should try?” You asked the table, your gaze still locked on the ash blonde across the room.

If you were being honest with yourself, Bakugou was the only boy that you could see yourself with. You’d been intrigued by him since your first year at UA, and had always wondered what it would be like to date him. You had given up on the idea of ever getting him to like you, knowing that getting close enough to him would be a daunting task. He had built walls around himself since day one, putting up an unapproachable front, and you’d always thought it would be impossible. And now, 4 years later, you were all attending the same hero college, and you felt like your chances to win his affections hadn’t gotten any better.

But, what was the harm in it?

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Tsu confirmed, breaking you from your reverie.

Ashido squealed, bouncing in her seat. “You two would be so cute!”

You turned to look across the room, catching a glimpse of bright amethyst eyes peering in your direction. Hitoshi smiled at you before turning his attention back to his friends, and you searched your heart for any feelings that you might have missed for him. When you came up with nothing, you knew you’d made your decision.

“Well, Ashido, I guess you better start thinking of ship names. Operation Bang Bakugou is in full effect, starting immediately.” You said finally, smiling at your friends.

They didn’t need to know how you felt about him, anyway. That was your secret motivation. You just hoped this didn’t blow up in your face.

---

Twenty-four hours later, you had made zero progress. The most you’d gotten was a heated glare from the explosive blonde when he’d caught you staring at him during one of the classes you shared. You were starting to think the whole thing was hopeless, but you couldn’t give up. Your mama didn’t raise no quitter.

You decided this was going to take some time and a lot of research. You started by observing Bakugou’s routine. It was fate that you’d been assigned to the same dormitory, along with the rest of your high school friends, so you would have plenty of opportunities to watch him without being creepy.

He got up insanely early every morning and went for a run, and then showered and ate breakfast. After his last class, he would do his homework and hang out with Kirishima and the rest of his squad before wandering off to bed around 8 pm, like a grandpa. On the weekends he would keep the same morning routine, and then would spend his afternoons in the gym unless someone was able to convince him to break his regimen and actually participate in a group activity, but it was rare and he would be grumpy about it the whole time.

You filed his relationship with Eijirou away for a moment of desperation. You wanted to try to do this all on your own if you could, but it was good to know that you might have an in if you needed it. For now, you were going to try to get Bakugou to talk to you.

You begrudgingly set your alarm for the ungodly hour of 5 am the night before you put your half-assed idea into motion. When it woke you up out of a nice dream you grumbled, dragging yourself to the bathroom to wash your face and fix your bed head. You dressed in your workout clothes and stumbled downstairs with your running shoes, your phone, and a pair of headphones shoved into the front pocket of your hoodie.

You sat down on the front steps to the dorm, lacing up your shoes and yawning.

“What are you doing here?”

Your head snapped up, eyes locking with Bakugou’s red ones as he stood behind you. You cleared your throat. “Hey, Bakugou. I was just getting ready to go for a run.”

His posture was stiff as always. “You don’t go for runs.”

“Not normally, no. But I think it’ll benefit me. I want to get faster.” You shrugged. “Are you going running too? Maybe we can run together?”

“Tch. You wouldn’t be able to keep up, princess.” He sat down and pulled on his shoes, no longer paying you any attention.

You didn’t want to push him, so you didn’t say anything, moving to the grass and sitting down so you could stretch. The morning was nice, a little chilly, but the breeze felt good and it was quiet. You felt his eyes on you but you ignored him, reaching out to touch your toes, flexing your feet. When you were satisfied, you stood, bending your knee and grabbing your foot to pull it back.

Bakugou was standing in front of you. “Just stay out of my way. I usually run towards the training grounds and then loop back around the dorms. It’s about two miles all the way around.”

You looked over at him, trying not to grin. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“I’m not doing you any favors, don’t thank me.” He snapped. “Fucking Christ. Just shut up.”

Your eyes widened as he turned his back to you, reaching into his hoodie for his headphones and shoving them in his ears. He messed with his phone for a second, before turning around and glaring at you.

You followed his lead, shoving an earbud in one ear and turning on your music. When you put your phone away he grunted and started jogging in the direction of the training grounds, and you followed, keeping pace behind him.

It was nice, it felt good to get your blood pumping so early in the morning. The campus was deserted, no one was probably even awake at this hour. Bakugou was quiet, but you didn’t expect him to speak to you, let alone let you run with him, so you didn’t have any complaints. You took this as a win though, because he’d at least acknowledged your existence.

Your legs were burning about three-fourths of the way through but you pushed on, not wanting to seem weak in front of him. You assumed if you stopped or slowed, he wouldn’t wait for you, and you thought it might hurt your chances of getting to do this with him again.

Your discomfort must have been apparent, though, because he grunted and looked back at you. “Oi! What’s your problem?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re fucking not, you’re slowing and you’re not breathing right.” He slowed down a little. “You’re pushing yourself too much.”

Your legs ached, and you felt a stitch forming in your side.“I said I’m fine.”

“Stubborn fucking-“ He slowed further, back into a light jog. “Your body isn’t used to this. I shouldn’t have let you come with me.”

“You can go without me, Bakugou. I can handle myself.” You grumbled, hating that he was right.

He rolled his eyes. “I usually start slowing down now anyway.” He reached in his other hoodie pocket and pulled out a water bottle, shoving it at you. “Drink.”

You didn’t even have it in you to argue, taking the bottle from him and unscrewing the cap, drinking slowly from it. You handed it back to him, keeping your gaze set on your shoes. You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him as he jogged beside you. It looked like all you’d managed to do was piss him off further.

When you finally reached the dorms you threw yourself on the grass, your heart thudding hard in your chest and your muscles aching. You closed your eyes, waiting for your breathing to slow, vaguely aware of Bakugou sitting somewhere to your right.

“Hey, dumbass. Don’t forget to stretch.”

You opened one eye to peer over at him. “Mm. I know.” You sat up and sighed before you started stretching, knowing you’d be in pain later regardless.

Bakugou drank from the water bottle, and then tossed it at you, watching as it hit the ground beside you. “We’ll take a shorter path tomorrow and work you up to more.”

You stopped, looking at him with your jaw wide open. “What?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to give up already, idiot.” He stood up. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.”

“I’m not!” You said quickly. “I just...I don’t want you to fuck up your routine for me.”

“Tch.” He glared at you, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You obviously need the help since you can’t even handle two miles. It pisses me off. So I’m going to make you my personal project.” He turned to walk inside. “Same time tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

You watched him go, your eyes wide. You couldn’t even believe this was happening. “Hey, Bakugou!”

He stopped, not bothering to turn and look at you. “What?”

“Thanks.”

His shoulders tensed. “Whatever.”

You kept your eyes on him as he disappeared into the building, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding when he was out of sight. “Well, fuck.”

—

“So what’s going on with you and Bakugou?” Ashido asked a few weeks later while you were sitting down to lunch again. “Any progress?”

There had been a little progress. Bakugou seemed to enjoy your company. It took you a few days to realize it, but he insulted you less. Like, he still called you an idiot and a dumbass, and occasionally he referred to you as ‘shitty woman’, but it wasn’t the same. It was like there was no anger behind his words.

“They go running together every morning now, didn’t you know that?” Hagakure‘s voice came from your right. If you could see her face you knew she’d be grinning widely.

Jirou gazed at you with her eyebrow cocked. “Interesting. He doesn’t let anyone run with him.”

“He does now.” You mumbled, looking down at your soba. “I kind of forced myself upon him. He’s taken me up as a charity case. But I’m getting better.”

“He’s such a hardass. He probably barks orders at you the whole time. I’m not sure it’d be worth it.” Ashido was concerned for you, and it made you smile. She was a good friend.

“He’s alright.” You glanced over at the boys’ table and caught him looking at you. His neck snapped forward when you caught his eye. “Actually, it’s going pretty well.”

“So when’s the wedding?” Tsu’s tone was light, and you knew she was making fun of you.

You snorted at her. “Okay, not /that/ well. Not yet at least.”

“Do you guys talk at all?” Yaoyorozu leaned on her elbow and blinked at you.

“I talk, he sort of listens? I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me to shut up, so that’s got to mean something, right?”

The second day you’d run together, you asked him what he was listening to, and he’d shoved one of his earbuds at you in response. It was some heavy metal band, and you understood maybe every three words due to the screaming and growling of the lead singer, but it was fitting for Bakugou. You ran the rest of the time listening to it together, and it was nice and kind of unexpected. The next day you’d given him one of your earbuds and he’d listened to your music choices. You were pretty sure that was the first time you’d heard him genuinely laugh at something, even if it was just because he heard the lyric “Tell the haters to suck my fucking cock”.

“It’s better than him blowing you up or something.” Uraraka mused, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“We’ll see. We’re going to study together later so…”

Ashido gaped at you. “What? He told us he couldn’t help us with the math homework. Kaminari asked him earlier and he said he had plans.”

“I’m the plans I guess?” You could feel the blush rising on your cheeks. “I’m meeting him in his room after dinner.”

“His room? Y/N, no one has seen his room except for Kirishima! This is big!” Jirou looked absolutely ecstatic for you.

“Shh! Not so loud!” You felt your face turning even redder. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“You cracked him, Y/N.” Tsu looked almost proud of you, her smile lighting up her whole face.

“I never thought this would go anywhere! Good luck, Y/N! We’re rooting for you!” Hagakure giggled excitedly, and you felt her grab your arm and shake you.

The rest of the table nodded in agreement, offering you congratulations.

“Thanks, guys. I’m actually hella nervous.” You turned your attention back to your lunch.

“If how often he keeps looking over here is any indication, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Yaoyorozu elbowed you, a teasing tone in her voice.

You looked over to see him staring at you again. You smiled at him, and he just glared back, but it wasn’t the heated one you were used to. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

—

You were heading back to the dorms after your last class, your bag slung over your shoulder, lost in thought. You wondered what you should wear later, running through possible outfits in your head as you walked. If you dressed up too much Bakugou might get suspicious, and you were trying to keep things casual for now.

“Hey, kitten.”

Your head snapped up, meeting the sleepy purple gaze of Shinsou as he fell into step beside you.

“Hey, ‘Toshi. How’s your training going?”

He shrugged, amethyst eyes meeting yours. “It’s alright. I’m running myself ragged. But it’s good. It feels good, you know?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. You were happy for him. “I’m glad to hear that. You’ve always worked so hard, it’s going to pay off.”

Hitoshi lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck, his trademark move. “Yeah, maybe. How’re things with you?”

“Okay. I’ve been running in the mornings before class. I’m getting faster. I can do almost two miles in about 16 minutes.”

“Wow. That’s pretty good.” He looked impressed, his hands sliding into his pockets as you walked.

“I’ve got a pretty good teacher.” You said vaguely, not wanting to give him any more information.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Just, someone in my dorm. It’s not important.” You knew he’d be less than pleased. You didn’t care what he thought, you just wanted to avoid the inevitable badmouthing he was prone to when it came to Bakugou.

You turned your head, looking forward. Bakugou was standing in front of the dorms with Kirishima just ahead of you. He looked up and caught your eye, frowning when he saw Hitoshi walking beside you.

Shinsou followed your gaze. “You’re training with that asshat, aren’t you?” He looked mildly disgusted. “I’m surprised he hasn’t killed you yet.”

“He’s not that bad, you know that. He knows his shit.” Your brows furrowed. This was exactly what you’d been trying to avoid.

“Maybe so, but he’s also a giant douchebag.”

You stopped walking, tired of the conversation already. You knew him well enough to know that this wasn’t just a casual catch up, anyway. “You haven’t spoken to me in like a week, Hitoshi. What do you want?”

Shinsou raised his eyebrows. “Chill out, kitten. I just wanted to say hi. I missed you.” He reached out, his fingers trailing along your cheek.

You looked over when you heard yelling. Kirishima was calling after Bakugou, the fiery blonde storming away from him and inside the building. What was that about?

You jerked back from Hitoshi’s touch. “Nope. None of that. You’re the one who ended things with us, remember?”

“So we can't be friends? Wasn’t that the deal?”

Your frustration was apparent in your posture. “It was. But that’s not what you were thinking and we both know it.” You turned, walking backwards towards the building. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

His face pinched. “What’s your problem? Are you fucking him already? You don’t waste a second.”

You felt your anger bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. Turning around, you fixed him with a glare. “No, I’m not. Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Shinsou. Fuck off.”

You spun back towards the dorms, your hands shaking as you stormed past Kirishima and slammed the front door open.

“Y/N, wait!”

You kept walking, ignoring the looks you were getting from the group that was sitting in the common area. You didn’t stop until you reached the elevator, jamming your finger against the button harder than necessary.

The sound of sneakers slapping against the floor had you spinning around. Kirishima was approaching, looking concerned. “Hey, you okay?”

“Fine.” You snapped, turning back to the elevator. “What’s up?”

“Oh! Well, I don’t know, it looked like you were fighting with Shinsou. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You felt bad for snapping at him. Eijirou was a good friend. “Yeah, sorry. I’m okay. He’s just a dick.”

Kiri chuckled, his sharp teeth on display. “Yeah, he kind of is.”

Changing the subject, you shrugged. “Is Bakugou okay? He looked mad. Like, madder than usual.” The elevator dinged and you entered it, moving aside so he could join you.

He pushed the button for your floor and then his. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s just…”

“Being Bakugou?”

“Yeah, basically. You get it.” He reached up to touch his bright red spikes, before his gaze settled on your face, bright red eyes glinting conspiratorially. “What’s going on with you two anyway?”

You froze, panicking slightly. Was it that obvious? “What? Nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s what he says too. You can’t fool me though. I know for a fact that I’m the only person he can tolerate on a normal day, and he doesn’t let me go running with him.” He looked at you knowingly, raising an eyebrow.

You felt your cheeks heating up, imagining their color rivaled the hair on his head. “He’s just helping me train.”

Kiri sighed. “Just do me a favor and be nice to him. He’s my best bro.”

The elevator dinged again when it reached your floor. You stepped out and turned back to him. “Nothings going on, Kiri.” You repeated. “We’re just friends.”

So what if you wanted to be more? Kirishima didn’t need to know that.

“Sure. See you at dinner, Y/N.” He winked as the doors closed and left you standing in the hallway alone.

—

After dinner, you went to your room to grab your math textbook and your pencil case. You decided to put on your comfy clothes, slipping on your favorite pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt, and throwing your hoodie on over it before you made your way to the elevator.

You stood in front of Bakugou’s door, taking a deep breath before knocking. You didn’t have to wait long, the door flying open moments later. “What do you want?”

You blinked at him, biting your lip. “We were supposed to study, remember?”

He frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together as he stared at you, his arms folded across his chest. “Thought you weren’t coming.” He was waiting for an answer. You raised your eyebrows at him in lieu of a reply, and he sighed, opening the door wider and letting you enter.

His room was neat, with an All Might poster on the wall above his desk. His bed was made, and he had a giant bookcase against the far wall filled with books. It was kind of fitting for him. You didn’t expect anything flashy, it was Bakugou after all.

“Why wouldn’t I come? We made plans.” You questioned him, shuffling over to sit on the bed.

“Tch.” He flopped into his desk chair. “Thought you’d be off with eyebags instead.”

You stared at him, confused. “Shinsou? No.”

“Weren’t you dating him?” He kept his gaze on the book in front of him, his shoulders tense, and fists clenched on the desk.

“No. Not really.” Was he jealous? Was that what that fit was about outside the dorms after class?

He didn’t say anything, and you could feel the tension in the air. If he was feeling jealous from seeing you with Hitoshi earlier, then maybe things were going better than you’d hoped. You knew you had to say something to fix this.

“Bakugou.”

He looked up, glaring at you like he usually did, his eyes filled with something else other than anger. Hurt?

“I’m not dating Shinsou. I’m not interested in him.” Putting your book down beside you, you leaned forward, your elbows on your knees. “We used to mess around but that’s over. We’re just friends.”

You couldn’t read his expression, but he almost looked relieved for a moment, before turning back to his desk. “You needed help with math?”

You nodded, getting comfortable and pulling out your book, flipping to the page you’d marked off, your notebook folded over to where you’d copied the questions. “I’m terrible at this stuff. My brain just can’t comprehend it.”

“Tch. It’s not that hard, princess.” He got up and sat beside you on the bed. “Gimme that.” He took your pencil and started writing, explaining the problem, and each step.

You were trying to pay attention, but you were kind of in awe of him. Katsuki Bakugou was the whole package; he was smart, strong, good looking. He gave a shit about people even if he was good at hiding it behind insults and a big ego. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d be at the top of your class again, and climbing the ranks to number one hero once you’d graduated.

“Are you even listening?” His rough voice startled you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, yes.” You took back the pencil, working on the next problem, following the steps he’d given you. “Like that?”

He hummed. “Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought.” He looked kind of proud of you, and it made your heart flutter.

Thinking back to what you’d said to Shinsou earlier about him, you grinned. “I’ve got a good teacher.”

“Damn right you do. Finish the rest of them and I’ll check them over when you’re done.” He got up and moved back over to his desk, slouching down to read over his textbook.

You got to work, flying through the problems faster than you thought possible. Something about the way he’d explained it had clicked in your head, and it suddenly just made sense.

“Here.” You held out your notebook when you were done.

Bakugou looked surprised, but took the notebook from you and began checking them over.

You stood up, walking over to his bookshelf, and looking at his books. A lot of them were manga, some you’d actually read yourself. There were some fantasy novels, like Game of Thrones and Lord Of The Rings, graphic novels like Locke and Key and The Walking Dead. You had a lot more in common with him than you’d originally thought.

“You just need to fix this one. Make sure you show your work or sensei will mark you down.”

You turned back to him and smiled. “Thanks, Bakugou.” You took the notebook back and sat back on the bed, working on the problem Bakugou had instructed you to fix. “I didn’t know you liked Lord Of The Rings.” You were formulating a plan, and as usual, it was half-assed.

He grunted, turning the page in his book. “What about it?”

“You know they’re showing the extended version at the theater next weekend.” You chanced a glance up at him, surprised to see he was watching you.

“And?”

He was either completely dense or he wanted to make your life harder. You were leaning toward the latter. You bit back a sigh. “So, do you want to go with me?”

“What, like a date?” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest. You tried not the stare at his bulging biceps.

You finished your math problem, shoving your notebook back into the textbook and setting it aside, leaning forward again. “If you want.”

“Hah? You want to go on a date with me?” His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes squinting, like he was trying to figure you out.

This was going well. Not. “Yeah, I do.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Aren’t guys supposed to ask girls on dates?”

“I mean, that’s kind of sexist, isn’t it? Does it matter who asks who?” Fuck, he was being an ass. You weren’t sure why, but you kept going. “Is that a yes?”

He seemed to be looking everywhere else but at you directly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No.”

Your face fell, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes. Determined not to let him see you cry, knowing he’d see it as a weakness, you forced a smile on your face. “Okay. Thanks again for your help, Bakugou.”

You stood up, grabbing your book and your pencil, shoving it in the case and tucking it under your arm. You turned to the door, your heart aching. You thought you’d finally made some headway with him, but you were apparently wrong. This was an unmitigated disaster, and you couldn’t wait to crawl into your bed and never leave it again.

“Ugh, wait.”

You paused with your hand on the doorknob, turning to look at him. He stood up and walked up behind you, grabbing your arm lightly and pulling you towards him. You nearly dropped your book as your hand pressed against his chest to keep yourself from bumping into him. “What?”

“Go out with me next weekend.” He mumbled, his free hand moving up to push a piece of your hair away from your face.

You blinked up at him, lost in the intensity of his stare. Suddenly, it clicked. “You just wanted to be the one to ask, didn’t you?”

“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Are you prepared to sit in a dark theater with me for three and a half hours?” You felt lighter, confidence back up to 100 percent. Trying to ignore how close you were pressed against him, you smiled.

He snorted. “If I didn’t think I could handle it, I wouldn’t have asked. I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”

He was right, of course. “Yeah, okay. It’s a date.” You leaned up on your toes and kissed his cheek before you lost your nerve. “Goodnight, Bakugou. See you in the morning.”

“Call me Katsuki.”

Surprised, you just nodded. “Okay. Goodnight, Katsuki.”

You didn’t miss the pink blush on his cheeks when you pulled away, willing yourself not to look back at him as you turned around and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway.

Your night had gone better than you’d expected.

—

The rest of the week seemed to fly by, and the next thing you knew it was Saturday.

You woke up at your normal 5 am and met Bakugou downstairs to start your run. You sat together on the grass, giggling and kicking his foot when he stretched his leg out beside yours. “What time did you want to leave later?”

He hummed. “The movie starts at 4. Did you want to eat before or after?”

Looking up at him shyly, you blushed. “We’re going for food?”

“Tch, of course. It’s a date, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at you quizzically, looking at you like you were the biggest idiot he’d ever met.

“Dinner and a movie? You’re really going all out, aren’t you, Katsuki?” Your heart swelled. You never imagined you’d get to this point with him.

He got to his feet, standing in front of you and folding his arms across his chest. “Keep it up and we won’t go at all.”

You squeaked. “I’m sorry!” You held out your arms and smiled when he grabbed your hands and pulled you up to stand. “After is good.”

He nodded, rolling his neck. “Fine.”

You started running, trying not to smile when you noticed that he was letting you run beside him instead of making sure he was ahead of you. There were small things that had changed between the two of you since you’d decided to put some effort into building a relationship with him, and it made your heart flutter.

“Are you excited about tonight?” You wondered if he was nervous. Did Bakugou even get nervous?

He half shrugged. “I guess.” You didn’t say anything and he seemed to realize his answer was too short. “I didn’t get to see the extended edition in the theater so I’m looking forward to that.”

“Yeah, me too.” You had missed out on it too. Feeling a little bold, you continued. “Plus, it’ll be great to hang out with you.”

“You hang out with me every day.” He pointed out gruffly, shaking his head.

He had a point, and you felt like you probably sounded like a loser. No turning back now. “Yeah, I know. But this is different.”

He was silent for a moment, and you looked back over at him to see him deep in thought. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was biting at his bottom lip. “Why do you like me?” He asked suddenly, and you almost tripped over your own feet in surprise.

“What?” You managed to keep yourself upright, keeping up with his pace. He was blushing slightly, and it was probably the single most adorable thing you’d ever seen.

He kept his eyes forward. “Shitty hair says I’m scary. I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but you still want to go out with me, so I was just trying to figure it out.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not scary. People just don’t know how to approach you.” He scoffed and you continued. “I like you because you’re not a pushover. You don’t take anyone’s shit, you’re smart as hell. You’re going to be a great hero someday, Katsuki.”

“Ugh, shut up, you’re being sappy.” You saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile.

“You asked! I’m just being honest.” You felt proud that you were able to get that reaction from him. “You know, I didn’t think you’d ever want to go out with me.”

His head snapped to the side, a scowl on his face. “Why wouldn’t I? You must be an idiot.”

“Hey!” You laughed. “Be nice to me.”

“I am being nice. I’m always nice to you, princess.”

You didn’t comment on how the nickname he’d given you since day one made heat race pleasantly through your veins.

“Your definition of nice is slightly skewed, but I’ll accept it, I guess.” You didn’t want to push him too much, but you were curious. “Why does that make me an idiot, though? You never acted as you would ever date anyone, so I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance.”

The two of you rounded the path by the training grounds and started heading back towards the dorms. “I didn’t expect to…” He trailed off. “Look, being the number one hero is my top fucking priority. I didn’t even want to make friends and then Shitty hair happened.”

You nodded. Kirishima was a ball of sunshine that no one could avoid. He just had this way about him.

“You’re the only one out of all those extras that ever had a chance, okay?” He snapped his mouth shut, scowling, and you decided to let him be. The last thing you wanted to do was piss him off.

“Okay.”

---

You finished your run, stretching and then heading back inside. You promised Bakugou you’d meet up with him around 2:30 so you had plenty of time to get to the theater.

After breakfast, you disappeared to your room for a while to knock out some dreaded weekend homework. Around noon you stood and stretched, deciding to take a shower and get ready for your date. You decided to wear a pair of black skinny jeans and booties with a cute top. Bakugou had mentioned wanting to take you out for ramen after, so you decided to keep your outfit casual but put together.

You met him in the common area a little after 2, ignoring the knowing grins on your friend’s faces as you left the dorm together, Bakugou’s hands shoved in his pockets, your hand looped through his arm.

You were walking down the main path in companionable silence, heading towards the road so Bakugou could call you an Uber to take you to the movies. Someone called out to you and you turned your head, your stomach dropping when you saw Shinsou making his way over. You glanced at Bakugou from the corner of your eye, noticing his tense posture and the frown on his face.

“What is it, Hitoshi? We were just leaving campus.” Your tone was clipped, not wanting to drag this out, since Bakugou was giving him a murderous glare.

He lifted his arm to rub the back of his neck as usual. “Sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to apologize for what I said the other day. It was kind of shitty of me.”

You let go of Bakugou, crossing your arms across your chest. “Yeah, I’ll say.” You weren’t about to forgive him, not wanting him to walk all over you. “Was that it?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you not going to forgive me?”

Bakugou decided to speak up beside you. “Obviously she isn’t, eyebags. Are you done? We have somewhere to be.”

“Hey, I wasn’t talking to you, Bakugou.” Hitoshi snapped.

You watched as Katsuki lifted his right hand, his palm popping and sparking from his quirk. “Like I give a fuck? Fuck you, bastard!”

You grabbed his left arm. “Katsuki, don’t. He’s not worth it.” You looked back to Shinsou. “I’m not talking to you about this right now. We have to go.”

Hitoshi sneered. “Whatever, guess I was right, huh?” He turned around and started to walk away, turning his head to the side to throw a final insult over his shoulder. “Enjoy my sloppy seconds, Bakugou.”

It took an enormous amount of strength on your part to hold Bakugou back from running after the purple-haired boy. “I’ll fucking kill you, you fucking extra! Don’t fucking talk about her like that-”

“Katsuki, come on! It’s fine!” You tugged on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“It’s not fine!” He spat, but he let you pull him away, growling and snarling like a rabid dog.

You kept a firm grip on his arm until he stopped looking back toward the other boy and you were a safe distance away from the school. He busied himself with pulling out his phone to call your ride, but you saw he was still seething quietly as he did so.

He shoved his phone in his pocket when you got to the road, moving to the side of the campus entrance and leaning against the wall. “What was he apologizing for?”

You looked away from him, knowing if you didn’t tell him he’d be preoccupied with it all night. You didn’t want to ruin the date but you knew how much he appreciated honesty, so you told him. “He insinuated that I was fucking you, and he basically called me a slut for moving on from him so quickly.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and you were afraid to meet his eyes. You were startled when he grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “He’s a piece of shit, and I will gladly end his life if you want me to.” His red eyes were blazing, and you knew he was fully ready to make good on his threat if you said the word.

You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips. “I appreciate that, but it’s okay.” Your heart was in your throat, and you felt your eyes watering. You knew Hitoshi was just being a jealous prick, but it still hurt your feelings.

“Fuck him. Don’t let him get to you.”

“I know, I won’t.” Somehow, Bakugou’s words made you feel better. “Can we just forget about him? I don’t want that to ruin our night. We have a date with some hobbits.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay.” If he noticed your tears, he didn’t say anything. The Uber pulled up behind you and he pushed off the wall, his hand still gripping yours. “Come on, princess.”

—

It was nearly 9:30 by the time you got back to the dorms. You walked up the path from the road with Bakugou’s arm around your waist, your body pressed into his side while you walked.

You’d had a really good time despite the rocky start to your evening, thanks to Shinsou. But Katsuki had let it go, and you appreciated that he hadn’t let the purple-haired boy ruin your night.

The movie had been great, and you’d been surprised when Bakugou had lifted the armrest between your seats and dragged you closer to him, letting you lean against him with his arm around your shoulder as you shared popcorn. You’d been half distracted by his warm palm against your arm, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin through the whole film.

You welcomed this new development, the feeling of his hand on your skin was comforting. It was a distinct contrast from his normal personality, and it made you soft for him. You never thought you’d see this side of him, and you were not complaining.

After the movie, he’d taken you out for ramen as promised, and you’d giggled at him when he ordered his extra spicy, and he teased you when you got yours without any spice. You got to know more about each other, quietly swooning over the smirk on his face when he made you laugh.

Now you were back at school and dreading the moment you had to say good night. You didn’t want it to end.

“Do you...want to come back to my room?” His cheeks were dusted pink, and he almost looked shy. “I don’t want to go to bed yet.”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” You teased.

He growled. “Shut up, dumbass. Nevermind then.”

“No! No, I’m sorry, I was just kidding. I want to. I was just thinking about how I didn’t want the night to be over.” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Me either.” His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“What did you want to do?” You had a few ideas, and none of them were SFW.

He just grinned, holding the door open for you when you reached the dorm building. You walked into the common room, the both of you stopping to kick off your shoes. You looked up as everyone sitting on the couch turned their attention to the both of you.

Before they could start bombarding you with questions, Bakugou grabbed your hand. “Come on.” He started pulling you towards the elevators, ignoring Ashido yelling and whining from her spot on the couch.

“Sorry guys! We’ll talk later!” You called over your shoulder, nearly falling over when Bakugou tugged on your arm and pulled you into the open elevator.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, looking up at him slowly as the door behind you closed. Your heart was jackhammering in your chest at your close proximity, and the warmth of his hands on your waist as he held you close made you dizzy. You licked your lips subconsciously, the nerves that had been simmering inside you nearly boiling over as you wondered if he was going to kiss you.

His cheeks were ruddy as he gazed at you, his fingers flexing against your hips. The dinging of the elevator reaching his floor ruined the moment, and he was pulling away from you too soon, clearing his throat. His fingers intertwined with yours again as you followed him out into the hallway, hoping that you could get back to what you were doing once you were in the safety of his bedroom.

When the door clicked shut behind him, you watched him fidget around the room, pulling his desk chair near the bed and opening up his laptop, sitting it on the seat. He sat on the edge of the mattress and looked up at you. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come over here?”

You moved over, sitting beside him, watching as he pressed the play button on some animated movie. “Is this Studio Ghibli?”

He grunted. “Background noise.”

You blushed when you realized he didn’t plan on actually watching it. You met his eyes, feeling a chill roll down your spine when he smirked at you. The mood had shifted so suddenly, and it felt like he was less of the soft and hesitant boy at the movies, and more like the Bakugou you knew.

You weren’t complaining.

“Now, where were we?” His hands moved to your waist, tugging you forward. You rearranged your legs to straddle his lap, your back facing his laptop, your arms hanging over his shoulders.

You felt his warm breath, his nose trailing along your jaw. “Katsuki…”

“Hah?” He asked, his grip on your hips tightening. “Were you going to let me kiss you in the elevator?”

You hummed, nodding. The anticipation was killing you, and it was apparent that he could tell. You let your eyes flutter shut, licking your lips, waiting for him to do something.

You heard him chuckle, your hips rocking slightly against his lap causing the sound to be cut short as he sucked in a breath. “Impatient, huh princess?”

His usual nickname for you sent a shiver through you. “Katsuki, please.”

“Fuck, don’t beg. You don’t know what that does to me.” His lips were on yours before you could reply, needy and insistent.

Kissing Bakugou was just what you’d always imagined it would be. He didn’t do anything half-assed, so you weren’t surprised by the passion behind it. Being this close to him was exhilarating. You could smell the faint scent of caramel on him when you breathed in, tilting your head slightly as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. Your lips parted and he groaned, licking into your mouth as your hips rolled down against him again.

He pulled away, the two of you breathless. He didn’t go far, his lips trailing down your jaw and to your neck, nipping lightly as he went. You sighed when his hands moved from your hips, fingers drifting under the hem of your shirt and trailing lightly up your sides. You let your hands move to his hair, nails scratching lightly along his scalp and tugging at his soft locks as his teeth worried at the place where your neck and shoulder met.

When he was satisfied with the blooming bruise on your skin, he pulled away to look you in the eye. Vermillion met Y/E/C with his usual serious expression. “I want you to know that I’m not just fucking around with you, you got that?”

Your eyes widened. “I-”

“No, listen to me, idiot. I don’t give a fuck about eyebags and his bullshit. I don’t want you to think I think like that bastard, understand?” His brows were furrowed and his voice was rough in a way that usually made your thighs clench.

You ran your fingers through his hair again, pressing a little closer on his lap. “I know, Katsuki.”

His eyes fluttered closed and his hands settled on your hips when you scratched along his scalp before they snapped open again. “Good. Because if we do this, I’m not letting you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him. Your heart was pounding and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“If that purple-haired freak even looks at you again, I’m going to rip off his fucking face and feed it to Hound Dog.” His palms slid to settle on your ass, squeezing and pulling you to rock against the hardening bulge in his jeans.

You moaned softly, nodding again. You were so turned on you felt like you were going to come apart, and he’d barely even touched you. You briefly wondered if you had a voice kink, cause just listening to him talk was doing things to you.

Sensing he was done talking, you leaned back slightly, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head, tossing the garment somewhere behind you. His eyes were glazed over with lust as he looked down at your bra covered chest. He dipped his head forward, tongue tracing the lace of the cup over the swell of your breast. You reached behind you and undid the clasp, gasping when he grabbed the offending object and pulled it down your arms and threw it aside.

A blush rose over your body as he gazed at you hungrily, but your embarrassment was short-lived, immediately replaced with pleasure. He left a wet trail of kisses across the top of your breasts, his tongue laving over your nipple, hot breath turning cool as he blew over the hardening bud. You were panting, grinding rhythmically in his lap, seeking friction as he showered your chest with attention, switching to the other breast and giving it the same treatment.

You pulled him up to kiss you again, hands moving to his back to grasp his t-shirt and tug on it. He got the hint, breaking the kiss to remove his shirt. You let your eyes drift over the absolute work of art that was his body, fingers trailing over his defined shoulders and biceps, and then back up across his collarbone. You leaned over to kiss along his neck, your nails trailing down his pecs and over his nipples, earning a low growl from the ash blonde.

Strong arms moved around your waist as he picked you up off his lap and moved you over to lay down on the bed. He was hovering over you in a second, his forearms resting by your head as his lips met yours again, kissing and biting on your bottom lip. You keened, arching up into him, your hands in his hair and sliding down to the back of his neck to pull him closer.

His lips trailed away from yours, down your neck and chest, his hands moving as he slid down your body, his fingers deftly popping open the button on your jeans. He settled between your legs on his knees, pulling your skinny jean down your hips and thighs. You lifted your legs to help him, shivering when the cool temperature of the room settled over your bare skin.

Fingers smoothed their way up your calf, his warm hands slid up the inside of your thighs. Your breath hitched when he spread your legs wider, tracing one finger over your clothed slit. The look in his eyes was positively feral when they met yours. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You sat up in response, hands moving to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. “And you’re wearing too many clothes, Katsuki.” You grinned up at him cheekily, making him chuckle.

He rolled his eyes, shuffling back off the bed to pull his jeans down his legs. Your gaze trailed over muscled thighs covered in light blonde hair, the black boxer briefs that hugged his thin waist, and the noticeable bulge of his cock that had your mouth watering.

He was back on you in a second, pressing you back against the mattress, lips ghosting over your heated skin as he ground his hips against yours. You moaned quietly, committing every touch to memory.

“You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.” He murmured against your neck. When he pulled back to look down at you, his cheeks were pink with embarrassment at the confession. “Too fucking long.”

“Me too.” You didn’t want to say more, afraid too many words would ruin the moment.

His hand slid down, fingers trailing over the elastic band of your panties, before slipping underneath them. The calloused pads of his digits dipped through your folds, brushing over your clit and making you whine, back arching again.

“Fuck, you’re wet, princess.” His forehead rested on your shoulder, and you felt him shiver against you. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You didn’t doubt him for a second, your breath hitching when he moved his fingers lower, pressing one into your entrance. The digit curled inside you, and you clenched around it, your body craving more. He thrust in and out a few times, adding a second finger, his teeth sinking into your clavicle when you keened at the feeling.

You felt like you were on fire, Bakugou’s warm breath ghosting over your skin as his fingers worked you over, his thumb pressing against your clit. You let the fingers of your left hand trail along his back, feeling his muscles ripple underneath your touch. Your right hand let go of the death grip you had on his sheets, crossing over your body to trace your fingers along the elastic band of his briefs, dangerously close to sliding underneath.

Lifting his face from your neck, he licked his lips and removed his hand from your panties. You whined at the loss, pussy clenching around nothing. You pouted up at him, watching as he positioned himself between your thighs again, tugging your panties down and off. Warm palms slid up the outside of your legs, gripping your ass and lifting your lower half off the bed.

He leaned forward, kissing up the soft skin of your inner thigh, teeth nibbling as he went. Your breathing was shallow, anticipation crawling through you, and you shut your eyes, waiting for what you knew was coming next.

His tongue licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, and you moaned, body arching from the bed. He hummed as he repeated the motion, the lewd sounds of slurping filling the room, nearly drowning out your gasps and the sound of the movie still playing on his laptop beside you. He kept you lifted up with one hand, the other snaking between your legs, his fingers finding their home inside you as he sucked on your bundle of nerves.

“Katsuki, fuck.” Panting, your hand moving to rest on the back of his head, your hips rolling into his face as you climbed higher and higher towards your impending release. You felt him smile against you, two fingers leaving you, replaced by three. He expertly scissored them, stretching you out, your body sucking him in deeper as you gushed around his digits.

“Gonna cum for me?” He peered up at you from between your legs. His voice was wrecked already, your eyes rolling back at the sound. You managed to nod meekly, tugging on his hair and trying to get him back to where you needed him most.

He complied, sucking on your clit hard, pushing you over the edge. You cried out, body shaking in his hold and stars exploding behind your eyelids, his tongue flicking over you again and again, helping you ride out your orgasm.

When you’d calmed, he pulled back, kissing your inner thighs again, waiting for you to catch your breath. He lowered you back down slowly, rubbing his hands up and down your legs. You opened your eyes, grinning up at him lazily.

“You good?” His arm came up to wipe the wetness from his mouth and chin, a smirk on his lips when you nodded.

You cleared your throat. “So good.” You sat up on your elbows, watching him stand again and shove his briefs down his legs. Your eyes widened slightly at his size, appreciating his body quietly. He was an adonis, and you wanted to trace over every inch of his body with your fingers and tongue.

He didn’t give you a chance, crawling back towards you. You spread your legs wider to accommodate him. “Do I need to grab a condom?”

“I’m on the pill.” You appreciated him asking, most guys would have just gone for it, thinking that this type of conversation was a mood killer. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, thank god.” Palms flat against the pillow beside your head, he bent forward and kissed you. You could still taste yourself on his lips, your hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. You were practically vibrating, needing more of him, knowing you’d probably never get enough.

Leaning his weight on one hand, he sat back and used the other to guide himself to your entrance. Your hips rocked up toward him, impatient to feel him filling you up once more. He slid inside you slowly, letting your body get acclimated to his size. He was huge, but the stretch was delicious, burning pain giving way to pleasure as he pushed himself deeper.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when he settled over you again, your breathing ragged as you closed your eyes. He was petting your hair soothingly, moving slowly, his lips trailing along your jaw. When he bottomed out inside of you he paused, and you knew he was waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath, you wiggled your hips, clenching around him. He made a punched out noise when you did, his hand rubbing along your side freezing. He was being so patient with you, but you were ready. “Suki, move. Please.”

With one hand on your hip for leverage, he pulled back, thrusting forward in one fluid motion until he was filling you again, his pace slow and steady. Every time his hips met yours you mewled, overwhelmed with the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you. He was muttering curses against your lips, his hand in your hair, thumb pressed against the side of your neck.

The scent of burnt sugar wafted over you, and you readjusted your legs higher around his waist, the new angle causing him to grunt. He felt so good, so warm, your body was alight and you were desperate for more.

Your moans and mumbled pleas of faster and harder were answered with a smirk, the boy between your thighs raising himself up to his knees and lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder. Large hands held your hips firmly in place as he slammed himself inside, tip kissing your cervix as you arched up in pleasure. He picked up speed, the sound of skin slapping skin filling your ears as you bit down on your bottom lip, focusing on the feeling of him filling you up just like you’d always wanted.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so tight.” He turned his head to kiss your calf, and you couldn’t help but purr at how attractive he looked in that moment, skin shining with perspiration as he fucked into you. “Taking my cock so well.”

“Katsuki, shit, you feel so good.” Your hands slid over your own body, fingers tweaking at your nipples. He was watching you intently, his tongue darting out to lick along his plush pink lips. He adjusted your leg, pushing it up and toward you so he could lean down and press his lips to yours. You breath mingled when he pulled back to brush his nose against yours. “Hey, let me ride you.”

He stopped moving, lips curling into a smirk. “Hah? You want to be on top, princess?”

Humming, you moved your leg back to the bed, leaning up on your elbows. He slid out of you, moving to lay beside you. You willed your body to move, your legs shaking as you threw one over him and hoisted yourself up to straddle his hips. Wasting no time, you gripped his cock, lifting onto your knees and lining him up, sliding down on his length. His hands gripped your hips, your palms resting on his abs as you rocked forward. You moaned in tandem, doing your best to rut against him, alternating with lifting yourself slightly and rocking, dragging your nails from his stomach and up his chest, leaving red lines across his tanned skin.

Katsuki threw his head back, eyes closed, his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked so pretty like this, his skin flushed and chest heaving, hair mussed from your hands running through it. You leaned forward, dragging your lips along his sharp jaw, breathing in the scent of caramel. Briefly, you wondered how angry he would be if you left a mark on his neck where everyone else could see it.

He chose that moment to tighten his hands around your hips, holding you steady as he bucked up into you, forcing you to sit up, your back arching in pleasure. The muscles in your legs burned from exertion, but you kept moving, bouncing on his cock and clenching around him. You knew you’d be sore the next day but felt too good to stop.

One of his hands moved from your hip, fingers trailing across your skin to dip between your thighs, one calloused finger pressing against your clit. Gasping, you moaned his name lowly, your head falling back as you felt your body preparing to throw you over the edge again. “Oh fuck, I’m close.” Voice trembling, you held your breath, letting your eyes close.

He sat up suddenly, his fingers moving faster, his chest pressed against yours. Your hands traveled up and over his shoulders, fingers carding through his soft hair as he pressed kisses to your collarbones. His breath was warm as he spoke, his rough voice as he whispered into your ear, coaxing you over the edge.

You clenched around him, eyes rolling back as you came, his hands gasping your hips as he slammed up into you, chasing his high. Your toes curled as you rode out your orgasm, nails digging into the pale flesh of his back as you tried to keep yourself tethered to him, feeling as though you might float away, his name shuddering from your parted lips.

Groaning lowly in your ear, he came right after, hips stuttering, his head falling to press against your shoulder. Your heart was slamming in your ribcage, breathing labored and skin sticky with sweat, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Bakugou’s hands were rubbing your back absently, his lips pressing kisses against your neck.

Lying back with you still in his arms, you giggled quietly, moving yourself off to lie beside him, thighs aching and sticky with the mixture of your release. You watched him, studying the flush on his cheeks, the tiny freckles dotted across his nose that you’d never noticed before, never getting the chance to be close enough to see them.

His tongue peeked out to wet his lips as he brought his hand up to push a piece of unruly hair away from your face. “You okay?”

You hummed, nodding. “Better than okay.” Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb brushed over your cheek, fingers tucked in the hair behind your ear as he pulled you towards him to kiss your lips.

“Stay here tonight?” His voice was raspy when he asked, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He looked so soft and vulnerable at that moment, almost like he was afraid you would say no.

Katsuki Bakugou was never timid or quiet or afraid of anything. You worried for a moment you might have broken him. Too tired to move or tease him, you smiled. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere, Katsuki.”

---

Lunch was, once again, a rowdy affair. The girls sat around you, as usual, chattering and laughing. Everything was normal. Everything except for the fact that Ashido was staring you down, her elbow on the table, hand propping up her head.

You looked up from the math homework you were desperately trying to finish, meeting her eyes. “Is there something on my face, Ashido?”

“No, I’m just trying to figure it out.” She replied, looking at you incredulously.

Puzzled, you frowned. “Figure what out?”

“How you did it.”

Before you could ask her what she meant by that, you felt a warm palm on your shoulder, and you turned to look into the ruby eyes of your boyfriend. He was holding out a bento box to you, his mouth in a tight line.

“Oh, thanks, Katsu. You didn’t have to.” You smiled up at him, taking the food from his outstretched hand.

“Don’t skip lunch, idiot. Eat it.” One of his eyebrows raised, as if daring you to challenge him.

You were hungry, so you didn’t, just nodding at him. He grunted and ruffled your hair before turning and walking towards his regular table, plopping down next to Kirishima and opening his own bento.

Moving your homework aside, you pulled the chopsticks off the top where he’d taped them to the lid and opened it, smiling down at the homemade meal.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Ashido cried, and you looked up to see her wide-eyed, pointing at your food. “Since when does Bakugou do anything remotely like that for anyone?”

Hagakure squealed. “It’s so cute! Did he make it himself?”

Nodding, you shoveled some rice into your mouth. He was such a good cook, everything he made was always delicious, and it was definitely a perk of dating him.

“Well, Ashido, when you’re dating someone, it’s not uncommon for them to bring you gifts.” Jirou chuckled, elbowing her friend. “They’ve been together for a few weeks now.”

“She called him Katsu…” Ashido continued. “Anyone else would have gotten a Howitzer to the face!”

Furrowing your brows, you blinked at her. “He’s my boyfriend, Ashido.”

Throwing her head back, she groaned. “I know I’m just saying, it’s so weird to see him acting so...domestic. I’m just wondering if you have like...a magic pussy or something.”

The entire table grew silent, the group of you staring at her in disbelief.

“What did I just walk into?” A deep voice questioned behind you.

Turning in your seat, you saw Shinsou standing there, his hands in his pockets and his eyebrows raised. “Shinsou…”

“Can we talk for a second?” He looked nervous, and a little guilty. You cleared your throat, nodding as you stood up.

You could feel eyes on you from across the room, so you turned and looked over at Katsuki. He was standing up at his place at the table, brow furrowed and fists clenched at his sides. Kirishima was looking from him to you worriedly, his hand on your boyfriend’s forearm. Locking eyes with Katsuki, you smiled at him, shaking your head, mouthing at him that it was okay.

He didn’t look happy, but you watched as he sat back down, his glare trained on the purple-haired boy waiting to speak with you. You led Shinsou over to lean on the wall away from everyone, glancing up at him and waiting for him to speak.

“Look, Y/N, I just wanted to apologize to you again. I know my last attempt was kind of negated by what I said to Bakugou afterward and I feel like an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.” He slumped against the wall and sighed. “You and I were always friends before any of that other stuff, and I don’t want to lose that.”

You blinked up at him, biting your lip in thought. He was right, you had always been great friends, even before you started sleeping together. You knew he hadn’t meant what he said, but it still hurt you, and you didn’t know how to go back to the way it had been before. “I don’t know, Hitoshi.”

His brows furrowed when you used his real name. “Hey, listen. I’ll do whatever it takes. You just...take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready, okay?”

“I appreciate you apologizing, though. I accept it, I’m just not sure what to do from here. Our relationship has always been a little unconventional, and I’ve got Bakugou now…” Your gaze cut over to your boyfriend, his eyes still glued to Shinsou, a scowl on his face.

“I’m surprised he didn’t leap over the table and attack me when I came up to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s kind of...feral.”

Snorting, you shook your head. “He trusts me. He’s not a bad guy, I tried to tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later then, Kitten. You know my number.” He smiled at you, bumping his shoulder against yours before walking away.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you walked back over to your table and sat down, picking up your chopsticks again.

“Man, who is that pod person sitting there pretending to be Bakugou?” Ashido continued her rant from earlier, Shinsou’s visit and Bakugou’s subdued reaction adding more ammunition to her argument. “Normally he would have shoved his foot in Todoroki’s cold soba trying to get his hands on Shinsou.”

Shrugging, you glanced up at her, and then over to Katsuki, who was eating his rice moodily, his forehead creased. “He knows I can take care of myself.”

“I swear to god,” Ashido sighed. “Aliens.”

She decided to leave it at that, the rest of your table giggling at her. You knew she was right though, Katsuki normally would have made good on his promise to rip off Hitoshi’s face. You had spoken to him about it a few nights before, however, and he respected your wish to handle it yourself. Even if he did grumble about it afterward.

When you’d finished your lunch, you packed up the bento in your bag along with the math homework you were never going to finish and stood up. Saying goodbye to your friends, you walked over to the boy’s table, leaning on the end of it. “Gentlemen.”

Todoroki nodded at you over his soba, slurping up the noodles on his chopsticks.

“Y/N, baby, how are you?” Kaminari asked, wiggling his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes, smiling when you saw him jolt, hissing in pain, and slumping over. “Bakubro, that was my shin!”

“Serves you right,” Your explosive blonde grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. “Show some respect, dunce face.”

“Yeah, you can’t hit on her anymore, dude.” Sero pointed out before he turned back to you and smiled. “Hi, Y/N.”

Kirishima grinned at you. “Bakugou, that’s so manly. Defending your girl’s honor.”

“Tch.” Katsuki stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and ignoring his friends. He turned his attention to you. “Did you finish your math?”

Smiling sheepishly, you grabbed his hand. “Nope. Come help me?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, his arm sliding around your waist as you walked together. “Maybe.” Smirking down at you, his fingers squeezed your hip. “What’s in it for me?”

“My endless love and affection?” You pouted, batting your lashes up at him.

He shook his head. “I have that anyways, don’t I, Princess?”

You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou smut #bnha x reader #kingexpl0sionmurder writes

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pridewhatpride · 3 years

Note

Do you have any gx rival shipping fanfic recs?

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for far too long. Prepare to get linked to half the Manjoume/Judai tag on Ao3 (FF.net is impossible to navigate and most of the works there are... questionable?).

I'll try to make this organised in some way...

My absolute favourite on Ao3 is Sour Candy by Aamalysstuff. Chapters: 1 Word count: 23,522 Reasoning: It's just... nice. It captures an aspect of teen romance that I just love- the awkwardness of sharing a room with someone you think you could never get along with just to find yourself wishing to never be apart from said roommate. And they share candy and music- what more can you want?

Moving on, there's Colour Theory by Sophisticated_Adult. Chapters: 1 Word count: 1,850 Reasoning: Well, I am a sucker for soulmate AUs and honestly? This is genius. This is the instance in which the only colours you can see before touching your soulmate are their eye and hair colour. So imagine poor Judai only seeing in greyscale and thinking he doesn't have one at all. Also this author is just great in general, in my humble opinion.

Another soulmate AU! All the King's Men by Souless_Robot. Chapters: 1 Word count: 2,434 Reasoning: Do you like pain? Do you want to see Manjoume suffer? Well, I do. So take the sweet promise of soulmates and flip it on its head by making Haou Manjoume's soulmate, while Judai is happily paired up with Johan. Don't we all love unrequited GX Rivalshipping?

A 2020 special: A Man in Uniform by Draconicmaw. Chapters: 1 Word count: 3,011 Reasoning: Has quarantine made you starved for interaction? Do you love platonic Manjoume-Asuka? Great! This fic has Asuka acting as the best wingman to Manjoume, who is the world's most disastrous bisexual. Judai is the sweaty and buff UPS man.

There's also Jun's (questionable) guide on how to go out with your crush by SheepySeconds. Chapters: 1 Word count: 9,567 Summary: In which Juudai stays at Jun's stupid apartment, keeps on getting injured in increasingly stupid ways, looks at Jun with those stupidly pretty eyes, and is stupidly impossible not to ask out, because Jun never claimed to have good taste or anything.

The last one-shot! parallel. by kaibaboy. Chapters: 1 Word count: 13,754 Summary: judai has never really had a 'special summer memory', and he finds himself wanting nothing more than to be able to understand the feelings of joy and euphoria surrounding the warmest season. manjoume ends up getting roped into his scheme, as always, but he finds himself going on yet another journey with judai — except this time, it doesn't end with them going in circles. this time, they finally meet at the intersection, and summer becomes sweeter than it had ever been before.

On to multi-chapter fics. Now. I haven't finished some of these (and some are even just on my to read list but deserve to be mentioned regardless), so I'll give you a summary instead of my own silly commentary (I also sometimes just don't have much to say ;;;;).

Straying by 111 (Insert). Chapters: 27 Word count: 219,653 Summary: The next time Manjoume saw him, Judai had a head full of spirits and a desperation that almost showed through. (I am recommending this just because a friend said it's good, honestly. I have yet to start reading it...)

Crushed by 111 (Insert). Chapters: 19 Word count: 150,973 Summary: Manjoume Jun should be dead, but he's not. The guard who throws the cell door open shouts a title different than the name running through his head over and over again. "The Supreme King has requested your presence." (Again, if Haou is mentioned, you know you're in for some fun pain.)

Take me home where I belong by space_lace. Chapters: 32 Word count: 43,668 Summary: For as much as Jun knew his brothers hated him, he never would have thought that they would be so willing to kill him. (In case you didn't hate Chosaku and Shouji enough- also, Manjoume struggles to live working as a cashier.)

Soul Reversal by Sophisticated_Adult. Chapters: 12 (Ongoing) Word count: 22,458 Summary: The roleswap AU no one asked for, featuring clueless rich boy Judai and bitter Very Much Not Rich Manjoume. Behold as two idiots with equal social skills just kind of flail around at each other. (This is just a dream come true. I love this author lol.)

Bonus Round! I'm now throwing unfinished stuff and pwp at you. Also two fics I just want you to read.

Saving You Saves Me by Osidiano. Chapters: 15 (Unfinished) Word count: 67,169 Reasoning: You see, this one has Manjoume as an actual believer. The Society of Light was not just brainwashing. The Darkness in Judai is also... strong. There is a lot of violence, but it's just... worth reading. I'm devastated it was never finished. It's honestly so so interesting.

Pentadic by spellcastersjudgement. Chapters: 1 Word count: 7,458 Reasoning: ... Technically it's Misawa centric. It's Misawa watching porn, which just so happens to be a camshow by Judai and Manjoume. It's honestly very fun to read. Misawa is very horny. Manjoume is a victim.

Super Stud by Hambone. Chapters: 1 Word count: 3,708 Reasoning: Manjoume is a people pleaser and he just so happens to encounter a horny fan whose name is Reginald Van Howell III. But Ulri! That isn't GX Rivalshipping!!! Listen. It's funny as fuck and Manjoume has an undying crush on Judai in it. I will die defending this fic. It's not my fault Jun is a hoe.

haven't you people ever heard of using the goddamn door by chancellorxofxtrash. Chapters: 1 Word count: 2,187 Reasoning: When I say that the polyamorous relationship Edo-Manjoume-Judai is amazing, this is what I'm talking about. This fic. It's godly. Nobody can touch this fic and get away with it. I will personally come and murder you Edo style.

The last entry is some shit user pridewhatpride has written. Don't actually read it, it's bad. Anyways, the new work in the series is coming out soon, so... Yeah, no skip this one. Unless you want your eyes to bleed. Bad fic boys. Nothing to see here. The first work is called Playing Rivals, but like... really. Don't.

Please read my shitty drabbles.

#holy shit it's done #fic recs #yugioh #ygo #yugioh gx #ygo gx #manjoume jun #jun manjoume #chazz princeton #judai yuki #yuki judai #jaden yuki #gx rivalshipping #gx rivalshipping fic recs

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lazy-bird-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Company - Spencer Reid x Reader

Spencer Read x Reader - one shot - fluff

Sort based off this tiktok

-not my gif-

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

Spencer was known for being a germaphobe. He was also known for being incredibly clingy. In private. The truth was he wouldn’t shake just anyone’s hand, he had to get to know them first, it was like that with all forms of contact. He just felt uncomfortable making contact with those he didn’t know and felt connected to. It took you a long time to get to that point but you would never be caught complaining.

You had known each other for two years when he first hugged you. Even then it wasn’t a full hug. You had spent many nights at each other's apartments, the guest taking the couch while the host slept on the floor watching old movies or playing chess or getting in vibrant discussions of authors and books. He texted you on the jet returning from a case.

Heading back, I’m thinking we watch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari?

I’m grocery shopping, If you beat me back the key is under the plant by my window, want anything from target?

Sour patch kids?

You got it Doc.

You returned to your apartment to find Spencer going through your TV trying to find the movie. After a night of watching the movie, raving over the style, and eating candy you both fell asleep, you propped against the couch and Spencer sprawled on top of it.

The next morning when he collected his things and made to leave, it happened. He thanked you, put his arm around the back of your shoulders and pulled you into his side. It was warm and cozy and you said nothing of it.

The little side hugs continued on for a while. He always initiated it. Whether that was because you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or because you didn’t want to feel rejection, you were never sure, but you never stuck your arm out to him.

A while after the hugs began you noticed he would hold you in longer.

Then he hugged you for real.

The two of you had obviously grown very close and one day he was back to being really antsy.

“What’s up Spencer?” You added the r to the end of his name remembering that he said JJ was the only one to call him Spence, is that how he wanted it or how it was? You didn’t know so you stuck to his full name when you weren’t calling him Doc.

“You like Thai food.” Spencer said in a rush.

“I- yes.” You responded, very confused.

“Would you like to get Thai food? With me. Uh - Friday night. As a… as a uh - date?” He didn’t make eye contact as he asked. Rather he looked down tracing the patterns of your carpet with his eyes.

“Yes.” You said it as confidently as you could trying to convey the message that Spencer shouldn’t be nervous with you. At your reply he looked up and smiled.

“I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I will see you then.”

And sure enough that Friday at 7 Spencer knocked on your door with a bouquet of lavender, baby’s-breath, and daisies, your favorite.

“These are beautiful!” You gasped taking them from him. He took your hands in his and awkwardly pushed his arms between your arms and body leaning in. You took the hint and nearly jumped into his arms pulling him into a tight hug. To your shock he hugged just as tightly.

The rest of the night was full of hand holding and comfortable, innocent, wholesome touching. From that date on, it was not unusual to find Spencer holding your hand, playing with your hair, or leaning against your shoulder.

About two months of your continued normal nights, spent sleeping a foot apart still, and cute dates, it became official that you were dating.

As to be expected things moved very slowly between the two of you. But no one was complaining. Spencer was happy and in his comfort-zone and you got to be close to such a beautiful mind and soul, if not physically, definitely emotionally, and that was so much better.

With enough time, you began sleeping in the same bed when he was back from cases. But none of that would prepare you for the conversation you were about to have with him.

“Spencer, I’ll be out in a minute.” He knocked on the door twice while you were using the bathroom, once while you were doing your business and the other while you were washing your hands.

“Hurry!” he called through the door.

“Why?” you were now drying off. “Hurry!” He gave no reasoning.

You opened the door and were met with a wall of cardigan. He had nearly swallowed you into a tight hug.

“Is this why you were badgering me while I was in the bathroom?” You giggled. You heard him speak softly into your hair, words that sounded like hug and warmth.

You helped make dinner with Spencer constantly squeezing your hand. He was in a very cuddly and clingy mood and you found it absolutely adorable.

You could barely watch the movie that night due to Spencer essentially sitting on you. As the night grew later, Spencer realized he needed to shower. You were at his place so you made yourself cozy on the chair with your book and waited for him to finish up.

“Y/N” Spencer’s voice rang out through the apartment.

“Yeah, darlin?” You walked up to the door.

“C’mere for a moment.”

“Yeah…?” you asked hesitantly endearing the room.

“Hi.” You heard his voice merrily reply.

“Let me get this straight, you just wanted me in the bathroom?” You ask.

“Yes.” you can hear him smiling through his words.

“So, I wouldn’t let you in the bathroom when I had to pee. But… here I am in the bathroom while you’re showering.” You ask in a clarifying manner.

“Cause Company!” Spencer whined.

“Oh, yeah. Cause Company.” You felt flattered.

“Yeah, it’s good.”

“It’s good.” You smiled again.

“Hold hands?” Spencer’s hand appeared at the top of the shower over the curtain. You giggled to yourself again and reached up and grabbed his hand.

“That’s nice, I needed that.” Spencer said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing you so he could rinse his hair.

“Should I wait with my hand here for you?” You asked, giving your hand on the curtain a wiggle.

“Oh, no, I mean you’re shorter and that’s a long time…” you could hear the disappointment and could tell Spencer wanted your hand but wanted you to be comfortable too.

“What if… can I wait outside?” You asked with a grin, knowing he would say no and be offended at the thought.

“What?! No?! Please.” You could hear the hurt in his voice.

“Oh I’ll stay here.”

“Yes. Bathroom Company.”

“Bathroom company.”

“I like when we’re in the same room.” You had to admit that made you a little sad, remembering he would mostly likely be whisked away on a case tomorrow. He was going to miss you and you him… that must be why he’s so clingy today, he knows that he will be going away.

“Being in the same room is good.” you smiled again, unable to hold in your adoration for him.

“I love you!” He said in a cheery voice. It wasn’t a first but it was not a common thing.

“I love you!” you replied. Spencer’s face appeared out of the side of the curtain, which he was holding around himself to maintain his modesty, you hadn’t taken that step yet. His lips puckered up, eyes closed awaiting a kiss which you gladly gave him. To your shock one of his big wet hands came up and he rubbed it across your face getting you all wet before ducking back into the shower laughing at your little scream.

“Spencer! I’m all wet now!”

“Hey me too!” He said cheekily.

This man would definitely be the death of you. You were already planning your revenge.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #i tried to write spencer as demisexual lemme know how i did i just wanna support and give everyone some representation #look at me branching out in fandoms i feel okay writing for #comment?

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evermoreholland · 4 years

Text

First Dates and Milkshakes | Tom Holland

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Word Count: 1,422

Author’s Note: This was beta read by @osterfieldnholland, @spiderrrling and @0rose-blossom0. Thank you so much!

Most people have their first dates in high school or in their early college years, but not you. You didn’t really have time to go out on dates due to your large load of school work over the years. You were now older and ready to finally put yourself out there. You haven’t had much luck finding anyone that peaked your interest, until you met Tom.

You met Tom at your local dog park. He was walking his Staffordshire Bull Terrier named Tessa and they both looked absolutely adorable. You were walking your dog and the two of your pets ended up crossing paths to play. Tom introduced himself politely and you the same. You were captivated by Tom’s beautiful smile. The two of you immediately hit it off. Tom had a great sense of humor and you were drawn to him because of it. He ended up asking for your number and that led you to the moment you were waiting for now: your first date. After Tom got your number at the park, the two of you began texting regularly. He eventually asked you out on a date, and you said yes.

The moments leading up to your first date terrified you. Did Tom have any idea that this was your first date? Would he try to kiss you? Did you know you have never been kissed either? Well of course not, because you forgot to mention it to him. You were incredibly nervous. A bunch of questions roamed through your brain. You also had no idea what to wear, but that was the least of your problems.

You spent the entire day preparing yourself. You gave yourself numerous pep talks. You tried on around twenty different outfits until you found the one you liked. You finished touching up your makeup when you heard your phone ringing. You picked it up from your bed and saw that Tom was calling.

“Hello?”

“I’m on my way, love. I can’t wait to see you,” Tom said and you could basically hear him smiling.

“I can’t wait to see you, too. Around how long?” You asked.

“Around ten minutes.”

“Okay, great. See you then,” you said and then hung up. You finished getting ready. You slipped on your shoes, put in your earrings, and touched up your hair one more time for good measure. By then, you heard a knock on your front door. You opened it to reveal the gorgeous man you were about to go on your first date with.

“Wow.” Was all Tom said when he saw you.

“I’m assuming that I look good,” you teased.

“You look stunning, darling,” Tom complimented you.

“You don’t look bad yourself.”

“These are for you,” Tom said as he handed you a bouquet of roses.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful,” you said as you took them from him. “Come in so I can put these in a vase.”

You put the flowers in the vase and you were on your way. Tom was a true gentleman. He opened your door for you and he even let you pick the music for the car ride, but he still wouldn’t tell you where the two of you were going.

“Where are we going?” You asked after a couple of minutes in the car.

“How about milkshakes at my favorite diner?” Tom offered.

“Sounds good.” Tom pulled into the parking lot of the diner and you both went in.

You both ordered burgers and fries, along with two milkshakes. You got chocolate and Tom got vanilla.

“I can’t believe you're my first date,” you mumbled.

“I’m your what?” Tom questioned. He wasn’t sure if he had heard you correctly or not.

“You're my first date. You have all of the bragging rights now,” you teased.

“I can’t believe it. There is no way that no has asked you out before,” Tom said as your food came. You both said thank you to the waitress and went on with your conversation.

“People have, I just haven’t said yes to anyone before,” you said. It was true. People have asked you out before but you haven’t been interested enough to go out with anyone, until Tom of course.

“Well I am honored,” Tom said and then ate a fry. You both began eating your food and enjoyed each other’s company. You liked talking to Tom. He was probably one of the sweetest guys you have ever met.

“You should try dipping your fries in the milkshake. It’s really good,” you said as you dunked your french fry in your chocolate milkshake. Tom looked at you skeptically, but he eventually tried the combination.

“It is very good,” Tom said in delight.

“Why did you get vanilla? Chocolate is definitely superior.”

“Are you kidding? Vanilla is better,” Tom protested. “Try it, love.”

The pet name made your heart flutter. No one knew this, but you were a sucker for pet names. You loved them, but obviously no one has called you them until now. Tom passed his glass over to you to try his milkshake. You took a sip but you still preferred chocolate.

“Still like chocolate better, pretty boy,” you flirted.

“Agree to disagree, pretty girl.”

After you finished your milkshakes, Tom paid, even though you protested. After, you made your way back to Tom’s car.

“How do you feel about a movie? I heard the drive-in was open,” Tom suggested. You loved the drive-in movie theater. It was always really fun whenever you would go with friends.

“I would love to go,” you said and then sat down in the car. Tom began driving to the drive-in and you both jammed out to music. The drive-in was about twenty minutes from the diner and during the ride Tom placed his hand on your knees, and if you didn’t feel butterflies in your stomach before, you definitely felt them now.

Tom pulled into the drive-in and bought the tickets. The theater was playing one of your favorite movies, Tim Burton’s: The Nightmare Before Christmas. Tom pulled up to a spot so that you could watch the movie and he got out of the car to grab something from his trunk. Tom came back to the front with a bag in his hand, along with blankets.

“I brought some treats for you, darling,” Tom said as he handed you the bag and put the blanket over your lap.

“These are all of my favorites,” you said as you looked through the bag. “How did you know?”

“You told me on FaceTime once.”

The movie began as the sun started to set. It was beautiful but Tom couldn’t help but focus on how cute you looked while watching the film. You felt Tom’s eyes on you.

“What are you looking at?” You teased and then passed him a piece of candy.

“How pretty you are,” Tom said.

“Cheesy,” you commented.

“I have a feeling you like my cheesiness, though,” Tom replied and then popped a sour candy into his mouth.

“I do. I like you very much,” you admitted. You could already tell by just one date how much you liked Tom, and he felt the same way about you.

“I like you too.”

“I hope this date wasn’t just a one time occurrence,” you said on the drive home after the film.

“Definitely not. You’re too cool to pass up.” Tom said.

“Too cool?” You laughed.

“That was lame, I know.”

“I thought it was cute,” you replied.

“Now look who’s being cheesy now,” Tom teased. He pulled the car into your driveway and put the car in park. You both didn’t want the night to end just yet.

“I guess I am. Thank you for the wonderful date, Tom. I had a good time,” you said in appreciation.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said as he got out of the car and made his way over the passenger door. He helped you out of the car and walked you to your front door.

“Will there be a second date?” Tom asked, hope evident in his eyes.

“Of course. Have a good night, Tom,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. Maybe a cheek kiss was enough for a first date, you wouldn’t have known better anyway.

“Good night, Y/n,” Tom said blushing. He cupped your cheek with his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, pulling away before you could even register what was happening.

“First kiss too?” Tom teased.

“Shut up, Holland.”

#i really liked writing this so I hope y'all like it too #the fluff is too cute #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #abby writes

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x0401x · 4 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #3

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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T/N: Okay, so, this is one of those chapters where the author makes mistakes in linguistics (but she’s trying, guys, she’s trying!). She writes “prasinon” as “prase” for some reason, and I took the liberty to fix it myself when translating.

Connecting Chrysoprase

Jewelry Etranger sat inconspicuously at Ginza 7-choume. The store owner, Richard, was the possessor of a beauty that you couldn’t think was from this world, but no matter how beautiful he was, once half a year had passed, you would get used to it. And as I got used to him, the questions also surfaced.

“Hey, Richard, don’t you have any favorite foods other than sweets? Do you eat ramen or anything like that?”

Mr. Richard Ranashinha de Vulpian looked at me with scrutinizing blue eyes. Sitting on the red sofa, he had been observing the contents of a large jewel box, holding them up over his head against the morning light shining in from the window.

“I find difficult to figure the aim of the question. Why ramen? I have had meals with you numerous times. I eat anything without likes or dislikes.”

“I know. It’s not like it’s limited to just ramen, but you don’t eat that kind of stuff much, do you?”

Like chives. Or garlic. Or grilled meat dripping with juices.

I knew that this didn’t suit his image. He was a man whose features seemed to have accidentally come out of a dream world. If he told me that he could live off eating department store sweets and pink roses, he could probably have me seriously convinced up to about 70%. That was exactly why I would feel like searching for a gap.

As I was about to ask if he understood this logic, Richard replied curtly with a clay doll-like face, “What ill intentions.”

That was true. I wasn’t some obsessive follower of an idol’s personal life or anything. Richard hit bull’s-eye with the deduction that I “probably ate ramen yesterday”. For some reason, things got awkward. I was in a position where it was better to retreat for a while. Time to change the subject.

“What stone is that? Looks like candy and it’s pretty cute.”

“A type of chalcedony. They are in the same category as crystals. In particular, this one with a milky apple-green color is called chrysoprase.

“Ah~...”

What Richard was pinching with his bare hands - because it was safer to touch it with bare skin rather than wearing gloves, he said, as it wouldn’t cause any damage - was a pale green, round stone. It had low transparency, was cut en cabochon and looked like an old-style candy.

“W-What was it again? The name. Chry...?”

“‘Chrysoprase’,” Richard repeated for me.

How many times had something like this happened? The stone’s name was in a Western language. Basically, all of them were in katakana. My ears did register it, but I couldn’t memorize it in one go at all. Richard was a helpful person, so there were times when he wrote down the names in romaji and explained them to me, but I honestly couldn’t keep up with him. There were countless stones in this world.

“Chryso... aah, no good. It’s hard to memorize.”

“‘Chrysoprase’. It is said to be a stone that helps to harmonize and integrate personalities. Medieval European literature also mentions it as a stone that Alexander the Great loved.”

Alexander the Great. A person I had learned about in high school. Even I knew that name. The fact that a stone adored by a warlord who had long passed away was still loved by people of the current times was thought-provoking. The range of the gemstone world was broad. But, well, leaving that as that.

“How d’you memorize stones’ names? It’s not like you’ve got some test to do like in a history class...”

“Do you think anyone would buy goods from a trader who cannot even say their names?”

“I don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard. There’s lots of types and they sound like magic spells. Like ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’. It wouldn’t be weird if you felt like cheating without a care in the world. You got any trick for memorizing them?”

“My compliments to you for being able to pronounce the official name of Sri Lanka’s capital. But I cannot praise the part about carelessly deceiving people. Once your reputation falls to earth, it does not recover so easily. To begin with, your perception of business in general is too lax for someone enrolled in the Faculty of Economics. I know you have the aspiration, but if you do not pair it to practical abilities and skills, you will be running idle. Shouldn’t you try to improve these skills once again so that you can avoid unnecessary hardships in the future? Instead of obsessing over finding out something unexpected about the shopkeeper from your part-time job.”

The arguments were so spot-on that I was at a loss for words. Even so, still with a slightly exasperated face, Richard continued to speak. Most likely, it was his gentle side’s turn from here on out.

“Still, you are right, I do have a trick. If I were to use the capital as an example, ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’ had its original name ‘Kotte’ being embellished with the title of ‘President Jayawardene’s Sacred City’. When you know the origin of it, doesn’t this line-up of katakana letters that only appears in magic spells turn into meaningful words?”

“So it had that kind of meaning? I see...”

“Is this time to be impressed? Do the same and discover the relatedness of all kinds of matters in your daily life. If you direct your eyes to the depths of your history without sticking to the surface, I guarantee that your world will broaden much more richly.”

“Then what about the chrysoprase of just now?”

As I took a stab at arousing his enthusiasm, the volubly beautiful shop owner smiled gorgeously. I felt that this guy would stay in a good mood forever just as long as I gave him sweets and let him talk about gems. And I liked Richard’s face the most when he was in his best mood.

“This word is taken from the Greek language. It consists of two separate words, ‘chrysos’ and ‘prasinon’. The meaning of chrysos is ‘gold’. The bright golden that can be seen showing through within the green was associated with gold. Prasinon means...”

What happened? His enunciation suddenly got bad.

When I urged him to continue, Richard looked down at the stone in his hand with a dull look and sighed a little. “The meaning of prasinon... comes close to plants such as chives or green onions.”

“Ooh—!”

As I clapped my hands together with an “all paths lead to ramen”, Richard made a face like he had just woken up from a nightmare. What is it? Please laugh.

“In any case, the mental attitude of trying to master something is commendable. I pray that your efforts will bear fruit.”

“Thanks, thanks. Well, will you eat ramen after all?”

Mr. Richard, the jeweler, looked at me with an awfully sharp gaze. What was that face? His facial expression looked like the usual nuance that he was growing fond of my foolishness had increased to about 30%. Did he intend to poke fun on me?

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“What do you prefer? Like miso or soy sauce?”

“A large helping of green onions and garlic. And even then, it is good to grate raw garlic and put in it.”

“That’s a pretty hardcore taste for someone who works with close-contact service business.”

“Which is why this is not something I can eat whenever. I eat it carefully by myself when I do not have to meet anyone the next day.”

As my eyes widened, the beautiful storekeeper raised his chin arrogantly. Did he want to say that this didn’t suit his image or had it just unfolded anew?

“How was it, did you enjoy the so-called ‘gap’?”

“No, it’s not like that’s the main goal.”

“Hah?”

“I can’t invite anyone for a French cuisine restaurant or a high-class sweets store, but if it’s a ramen shop, there’s lots of them near my university. If you like, why don’t we go eat together next time? They’re mostly shops that seem better to drop by wearing a t-shirt rather than a suit, but I wanna try chatting with you while eating this kind of junky stuff every now and then.”

“For you to discover a new unexpected thing about me, you mean?”

“I just wanna get along with you better.”

For an instant, Richard’s facial expression strained hard. What was up? His face looked like he hadn’t known better and bit a sour pickled plum or something. As I furrowed my brows, his blue eyes narrowed, looking glum, while he closed the jewel box with a click and stood up.

“Ah, show me more. It wasn’t nearly enough—”

“The chrysoprase is said to have the power to put the balance of mind and body in order, as well as make it spring up comfortably. Perhaps because its fresh grass color is a reminder of spring. Isn’t this stone unnecessary for you, since you are always in a festive mood?”

“Why’re you angry?”

“I am not.”

“Shouldn’t you take a better look at the chrysoprase?”

“Thank you for the unnecessary meddling.”

Leaving me with things to say, Richard disappeared into the back room. Was it that bad to invite him to a ramen shop? It wasn’t a good idea to let him stay angry, so I voluntarily prepared two cups of royal milk tea in the kitchenette. Having come out into the reception room, Richard said nothing more than the expected as he drank a tea that had a little more sugar in it than usual.

After the customer of that morning had gone home, Richard showed me the chrysoprase once again. Upon a better look, I understood the meaning of that naming, which I couldn’t think of as anything more than a mystery at first. Didn’t the people of ancient times think that this was a plant born from gold? The uneven surface was smooth and wavy like an organic body. Chrysoprase. Gold and green onions. Even though there were several gems in this world, I would probably never forget the name of this one. If I ever got to eat ramen with Richard someday, I would definitely bring up this stone.

“Do you remember that talk?” I would ask.

#jeweler richard #housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #nakata seigi #the case files of jeweler richard #richard ranashinha de vulpian #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #fanbook #jr short story collection

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cheekysos · 4 years

Text

Road to Nowhere

Best Friend! Luke Hemmings x Reader

Summary: Luke asks his best friend Y/N on a road trip.

Warnings: Unrequited love, angst, minor swears

Author’s Note: Thank you for being patient with me the past couple of weeks. I’m still unsure about this piece honestly but I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is always very much appreciated, whether it be positive or constructive. Thank you for reading.

You and Luke have been best friends ever since he moved to LA. When you first met him you were in a somewhat serious relationship and by the time you admitted to yourself your feelings for Luke he just met someone. You wallowed in self pity for quite some time before you forced yourself to move on, Luke seemed happy and you wanted to be happy too. When Luke was single again, you were a few months into a new relationship. This cycle has continued for the entirety of your guys’ friendship, the timing just never worked out. Not that it would have mattered, you knew your chances with Luke were slim to none. You two joked, laughed, cried, and confided in one another but there was something missing on his part. You could tell by the way he looked at you that he didn’t love you the way you loved him. He doesn’t look at your smile and instantly get butterflies, your laugh doesn’t send a shiver down his spine, and your touch doesn’t make it hard for him to breathe. Now here you are, single for almost a year and Luke is in what seems to be a very serious relationship and it’s eating you up inside. You wasted so much time ignoring and hiding from your feelings because you were too scared to lose your best friend. Now your feelings are so strong it’s difficult to ignore.

His current relationship was definitely putting a strain on your friendship. She wasn’t comfortable with it, you knew the second he introduced you to her. The way she scanned you up and down, like she was assessing your level of threat. She occupied most of his time and didn’t want you around much, she never came right out and said it but you could tell - basically everyone could except for Luke. It was little things like the way she touched him in front of you, like she was claiming him or how it took her months to “learn” your name. But you put up with it because you loved him, granted you were also in love with him as well but you respected their relationship and would never act on your feelings. Between touring and her Luke hasn’t had much time for you so when he called you and asked if you wanted to go on an impromptu road trip with no certain destination you didn’t hesitate.

You packed enough clothes and toiletries for three days, that’s all the time off you could manage from work. Luke arrived that morning with your favorite coffee in hand and looking as adorable as ever. He was dressed casually in blue jeans, T-shirt, and boots.

“You’re really going to wear jeans while we drive across the country?” You teased snagging the large cup of coffee out of his hand.

“Hey what’s wrong with my jeans?!” He asked defensively.

“Nothings wrong with them. I just meant they aren’t very comfortable.”

“Well thanks mom but I think I can dress myself.” He quipped.

He stood in front of you with that stupid look on his stupid perfect face you loved so much. “So did you decide where you exactly were going?” You asked, spontaneity was not your strong suit.

“You pick, anywhere you want,” answered Luke.

You hesitated for a second, racking your brain for ideas. “Grand Canyon?”

“Whatever you want to see,” he flashed a sympathetic smile. What was going on?

“Seriously?” You asked. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What a guy can’t spoil his best girl?” Luke had a tendency of saying things like this. Things that were obviously meant to be harmless but hurt you more than you’d like to admit because you knew he didn’t meant them, not how you wanted him to. Luke helped you with your suitcase to his car and typed the coordinates into his GPS. While he did that you connected your phone to his car. Right after Luke asked you on this trip you started making a playlist for the occasion, of course a majority of the playlist was already assembled in a secret Luke playlist you already had.

“I hope you’re ready for this playlist, it’s going to blow your little rockstar brain.” Music is what immediately connected you to Luke. You guys didn’t have exactly the same taste and there were definitely songs and artists you disagreed on but his passion for it was contagious. He changed the way you consumed music, pushed you to listen to more than just lyrics and the beat.

“Excuse you I have a big rockstar brain thank you very much.” His hand rested on the back of your headrest as he backed out of the parking spot. It’s strange how Luke made everyday normal activities just effortlessly sexy. The way his seat had to be all the way back for his massive limbs to fit, how he gripped the steering wheel with one hand while the other rested on the gear shift, or the way the sun landed on his face and illuminated his sharp features.

Before you officially got on the road Luke stopped to fill up his car. “Here pay for the gas and grab some snacks,” he handed you his card.

You went inside and gathered an array of different snacks, candies and drinks. When you came out you saw Luke on the phone, at first you thought he was talking to her but he looked anxious and stressed while speaking. Maybe they were fighting, maybe that’s why he wanted to get away for a bit. When you got closer to him he hung up the phone and returned the pump to it’s holster.

“Let’s get the show on the road darlin’.” He faked a smile.

You were on route soon enough, Luke quietly snacking on the bag of chips you bought for him as he drove. You really didn’t want to pry and you hated asking him about her but it was obvious something was bothering him.

“You alright?” You questioned turning down the music.

He forced a smile, “All good. Just quietly regretting my decision to wear jeans. I wish someone would’ve told me not to.”

You playfully tossed a sour patch kid at his head. You knew that’s not what was bothering him but you didn’t pry. After many hours of stupid car games, spontaneous singalong dance parties and a small cat nap on your part you couldn’t ignore the rumbling in your stomach any longer.

“Luke I need food and I’m tired.” You whined “I think we should call it a day, get some food and find a hotel.”

Luke rubbed at his 5 o’clock shadow. “Ya ok find a place nearby will ya?”

It took a little time but eventually you found a small bed and breakfast. “Take the next exit.” You instructed.

As Luke drove to the bed and breakfast you passed an In n Out. “Take a right!” you yelled.

Luke jerked the car into the turning lane, “the fuck Y/N! Scared the shit outta me.”

“In n Out! Need fries and a milkshake.” You exaggerate and pout your lip.

“You know I can’t say no to that pout.” Again, how could he not realize what he was saying to you? Could he be that oblivious?

You went through the drive-thru and ordered way too much food for only two people and continued driving to the B&B. The Bed and Breakfast was a decent sized Victorian styled home, they probably couldn’t have more than five rooms. You stayed by the car, taking in the fresh air of a new state while Luke went inside to check for a room.

“Good news and bad news,” Luke said walking back to the car. “Got a room but it’s only got one bed, she’s got a cot though so she’s going to have it brought up to the room. I’ll take the cot.” Luke grabbed the luggage and you followed him with food and milkshakes in hand. The room was cozy, the main focus of the room was clearly the bed. This bed and breakfast most likely catered to couples looking for a quiet getaway and in any other situation it probably would have been romantic but not when you were with Luke and he was with her.

The two of you sat on the floor eating and catching up. Against your better judgement you asked about her, you were surprised to see his expression fall.

“I don’t want to talk about her, this trip is about us.” he said quietly. “Remember when we took that road trip to visit your parents?” he laughed.

“You mean the trip you agreed to take after being on tour for months leaving me to drive for HOURS while you slept the entire time?” you teased.

“Hey, It’s the thought that counts!” he defends. Things with Luke were great, back to how things were before.

After spending a considerable amount of time reminiscing, the two of you got ready to go to bed. When Luke walked out of the bathroom he was dressed in only athletic shorts. You’ve seen Luke half naked plenty of time but it seemed like every time you saw him his shoulders were broader, his chest hair more dense, and his skin softer.

“I-I’ll sleep on the cot Luke. There’s no way your lanky ass is going to fit. I don’t mind.” You tried deflecting with jokes.

“Ugh! How rude!” Luke played. “I am not lanky! And it doesn’t matter - that thing’s for children, neither of us are gonna fit on it. We’ll just share” He tossed aside the extra throw pillows and pulled back the duvet.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you hesitated.

“It’s fine, just get in.” He turned off the lamp on his nightstand and tucked his extremities into bed, his back facing you. You followed his lead and got yourself situated on your side. You knew you should have turned around so your back was towards him but you just couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“Night Y/N.” he yawned.

“Goodnight Lu.” As creepy as it sounded you spent some time watching his back, counting the times it rose and fell with each breath before he succumbed to sleep.

You woke up the next morning before Luke, he wasn’t a morning person in the slightest. After you finished getting ready and found Luke still in a deep slumber you figured the best way to wake him was a pillow to the face. After lots of whining and arguing the two of you were ready to get back on the road. Since Luke was still half asleep you offered to drive the rest of the way, which meant you spent most of the time in silence again, but you didn’t mind, you needed the time to think.

When you finally arrived at the Grand Canyon you and Luke stood there awhile speechless, taking in the beautiful scenery around you. His arm suddenly snaked around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You followed his suit and wrapped your arm around his waist. You felt completely content in this moment, for a second you could forget about everything and just relish in this the now. When you looked up at Luke tears were brimming in his eyes. You stood in front of him with both hands held onto his waist.

“Hey...what’s the matter?” you pleaded.

“It's...I just. I’m just really happy to be here. To be with you, my best girl.” He pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapped around you tightly and he placed soft kisses on the top of your head. Your heart soared in this moment. Everything felt so perfect, it felt like there was an inkling of a possibility that Luke loved you back. As you pulled away from the hug, Luke tucked the stray hairs behind your ear. Your faces were closer than they’ve ever been, your foreheads pressed together, noses just barely touching.

“I need to tell you something Lu..” There was no more denying your feelings. You couldn’t go on like this anymore you needed him to know, even if that meant that he didn’t feel the same about you.

“Lemme go first.” he cut you off. “She gave me an ultimatum, you or her…” Your heart was in the back of your throat and your entire body was on fire. This was it, he was about to kiss you.

His calloused thumb brushed along your cheekbone, “I..I chose her.”

#Luke Hemmings #Luke Hemming Fic #Luke Hemmings Blurb #5 seconds of summer #Bestfriend!luke #Luke Hemmings oneshot #Luke Hemmings Fanfiction #Luke Hemmings angst #5sos blurb #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5 second of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fic

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thran-duils · 4 years

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Sex and Candy

Title: Sex and Candy Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Dean (S15), Fem!Reader x AU!Castiel. Based on the alternate universe presented to us in Season 15 with the trust fund versions of Dean and Sam. The reader is married to Dean but is forced to face Castiel again, a past flame from her time at the hunter academy. After a fight with Dean, she finds herself asking Castiel to join her at a hotel, unable to let go of the past. Words: 3,818 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Angst, infidelity, smut Author’s Note: This was purposely left the way it was for you guys to make your own conclusions about what happens! ;)

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I smell sex and candy here, mmm Who's that lounging in my chair? Mmm Who's that casting devious stares in my direction? Momma this surely is a dream, yeah Yeah, momma this surely is a dream, dig it --Marcy’s Playground, Sex & Candy

Dean’s hand was at your lower back, guiding you through the door. Headquarters were fairly quiet, which was out of the ordinary. Many of the hunters in the area were not around having been dealt with an influx of monsters somehow escaping purgatory. Word was it had something to do with two rogue hunters who had messed around with some extremely powerful supernatural artifact and it had caused a rift in between the two worlds. You detested hunters who had not been given formal training through the academy and kept within the reins of John, your father in law’s, circle. They made your jobs all the more difficult more often than not.

The two of you stepped into the elevator, nodding in greeting at the guard standing nearby.

Once the doors closed, Dean told you, “Dad’s in a bad mood.”

“Oh?” you asked, barely feigning a tone of interest. You adjusted the silver Tiffany’s bracelet on your wrist, thinking to yourself that this was not news; John was usually not in a good mood. He was overbearing to say the least. It had taken everything in Dean to tell him he wanted to move out of the house with you. Luckily for you, John had a soft spot for you due to your hunting skills and had not put up much of a fuss. You had held back a scowl though when he had chirped that at least Dean had a homemaker to take care of him. You did not have to clean up after him, thankfully, considering the staff at your home. You loved Dean, there was no doubt, but his less desirable traits – being dependent and needing to be coddled at times – left you with a sour taste in your mouth more and more often.

Pulling at his collar to straighten it out, Dean sighed, “Yes. Apparently, he’s found out who the hunters are and wants to do something about them.” Your gaze slid to him and by the look on your face, Dean held up his hands, his gold cuff links catching the light. “Sammy refused.”

“Sam always refuses things like this.” Sighing, your fingers dug into your clutch. “He has got to stop punishing you sometime for moving out. He needs to start doing some of the dirty work.”

“I hardly think searching them out to ask them what the heck went wrong is dirty work, Y/N.”

The elevator door opened, and you closed your mouth, not wanting to continue this discussion outside the privacy of it.

You cut in front of Dean, your annoyance apparent. You heard him sigh heavily behind you, but you did not care, making your way down the hall towards John’s office.

Knowing better than to just enter, you knocked on the door and heard John beckon you in. Swinging the door open, you felt Dean at your back as you entered the room.

John was sitting behind his intricately carved desk that he had had imported in. Papers were stacked neatly, him working on one thing at a time. He was adamant about keeping his desk clean and to do so, he would not be rushed. One of the other board members for the academy, Arthur, was sitting opposite John.

Taking his glasses off, John moved to put his pen back in its holder. He gestured at the empty chair beside you, and you sat, keeping your back straight. Arthur was watching you out of the corner of his eye and you stiffened even further. He had been particularly hard on you as one of your mentors in school and you had not forgotten.

“You look upset, Y/N,” John commented.

You waved him off and said, “I am just impatient about learning who caused this latest mishap. And what is going to be done about it.”

“Impatience has always been a fault of yours,” Arthur commented, and you bit back a comment as John continued, “Well, it turns out it was two of the academy’s.”

“Are you joking?” Dean blurted from behind you where he was standing.

John shot him a look and Dean closed his mouth. “That is not something I would joke about, Dean. It was a major, major bungle. Yes, it was two that should know better, but I am not surprised at the same time. Novak and Crowley.”

His eyes were on you as he revealed this and unable to stop yourself, you closed your eyes, letting out a small sigh. Of course, it was. And no wonder Sam would turn this down as he knew yours and Castiel’s history; anything to put Dean and you in an uncomfortable position.

A small smirk on his lips, John told you specifically, “I thought it would be best to send you. And of course, Dean would go as well. You two are partners.”

“Naturally,” you responded tightly.

This was the last thing you wanted to do with your time. Being in Castiel’s presence never ended up being dressed in the past. Circumstances were different now and you were going to have to try to break that trend. You were already on edge and this was not going to help you to keep your composure seeing the smug look on his face.

<> <> <>

“Why am I not surprised they would be in a place like this?” Dean asked as the two of you ascended the short staircase to the bar.

It was a rowdy place, placed in an urban center.

“They are the dive bar type,” you told him, speaking louder as the swell of the music met you at the door. You held out your ID for the bouncer and he quickly waved you through, not even bothering to look at Dean’s considering he saw what your last name was already. Winchester got you into many places and underground establishments without the bat of an eye.

It did not take you long to locate them inside. They were waiting to play the next game of pool; Castiel was leaning back in his chair, legs propped up on the table, drink in hand. Crowley was next to him, dressed in crisp black as usual. Castiel’s hair was loose, his beard growing to a 5 o’clock shadow.

Crowley spotted you and Dean first. He nudged Castiel and said something to him as the two of you approached the table. Castiel turned his head and a smirk grew on his face seeing you, chuckling as he looked back down at his drink. He brought the pint to his lips and took a long swig.

“We need to talk,” you told them over the music, standing beside Castiel, glaring down at the pair of them.

“John Winchester sent his lap dogs instead of coming himself?” Crowley asked, giving you a scornful look.

Your mouth fell open slightly and before you could retort something nasty, Dean stepped forward. “It would be appreciated if the two of you could cooperate. It would make things so much easier. It’s not just my father; it’s the whole board.”

Castiel cleared his throat, moving to drop his feet off the table. “I suppose we are about to get our asses handed to us based on the demeanor here.”

“You’re damn right,” you spat.

“Oh, language,” Dean told you over his shoulder and you did not miss the smirk on both Castiel and Crowley’s faces. “No need to stoop to their level, Y/N.”

Castiel gestured across the table. “Sit.”

Dean looked apprehensive about sitting on the chair, no doubt worrying about his pressed slacks. You on the other hand, did not care in the slightest. You sat down, placing your wallet on the table between you and Dean. Castiel’s eyes were following your movements and you shot him a vexed look and clenched your jaw when he winked in return. It went missed by Dean as usual, him being too absorbed in keeping himself clean.

“So, what does the old man want to say?” Crowley asked, swirling the whiskey in his glass slowly. He was not going to let his disdain for John go.

Clearing his throat, Dean said ignoring the jab – or perhaps it went over his head, which was more likely –, “He wants to know what happened, why it happened, and how you propose to fix it.”

“Well, that is a lot of information and could take some time –”

“Give us the short version,” you snapped, interrupting him.

Crowley cocked his head, drawling, “You’re as charming as ever, Y/N.” You said nothing in response. “Fine. We were trying to send a monster back to purgatory –”

“What?” Dean demanded at the same time you blurted, “Why?”

“Well, if you would let me explain myself,” Crowley said tightly, narrowing his eyes. “We wanted to see if it could be done. Why continue wasting resources killing the monsters when we could just open a rift and send them to purgatory?”

“And you decided to do this without, I don’t know, discussing this with anyone else? Or asking for help?” you asked.

“Didn’t think any of you tight asses would be up to it.”

“And for good reason!”

Holding his hand up at you, Crowley said, “That is exactly why we didn’t ask for help. We researched it on our own, found the artifact we needed, and preformed the ritual ourselves. It did not go as we planned but we did do it. We opened a rift. Now, if we could perfect it –”

Dean cut in, holding up his hand, “Yeah, that’s not going to be happening. The Board wants you to turn over whatever artifact you used so we can keep it hidden to prevent this from happening again."

Crowley and Castiel exchanged a quick look, an entire conversation happening in a matter of moments between the two of them.

“And if we don’t hand it over?” Castiel questioned, coyly.

You exhaled impatiently as Dean scoffed, “You can’t be serious to want to defy the Board.”

“If we give it up to them, they’ll never pursue the idea.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

“But they’ll take our hard work and claim the credit for themselves if it ends up being perfected.”

“That’s the point of the Board and the academy. It is to keep all of our collective research in one centralized place so everyone has access to it.”

Crowley cut into their conversation angrily, “That is exactly why I hated attending that bloody academy. The stuffed up, old pricks—” Dean flinched at the insult. “--there want to keep everything to themselves while the rest of us do the groundwork for them.” Castiel nodded in agreement, taking a drink of his beer.

Dean looked at you for support and you leaned forward, catching both of the men’s attention across the table. “Look. You know there’s two ways this is playing out. You agree to hand it over or we go back and tell the Board they’ve got two hunters they need to get information out of.”

“You mean, you two won’t be the ones shaking us down?” Castiel quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.

You were tired of him flirting, pushing your buttons that he knew how to press all too well.

Annoyed, you retorted, “They’re not sending Dean and I to get our hands dirty by forcing information out of you two. We are here as liaisons.”

“No. No, I suppose they wouldn’t be sending the pair of you,” Crowley said. “You haven’t done hard work in years. That’s for the grunts, isn’t it?”

You had had enough. Pushing the chair back with a loud squeak, you stood up quickly, grabbing your wallet. “I’m finished with this conversation. Dean, if you would like to continue trying to reason with these idiots, I’ll be in the car.”

It annoyed you even further to see Dean quickly get up to follow you. Part of you hoped he would have had the backbone to continue trying to coerce them, but then again, he seemed to always be following your lead.

“No, I see a lost cause when I see one,” Dean said, standing close to you.

You tore your eyes away from him to look at Crowley and Castiel once more. Castiel was taking a swig, his eyes running up your body and you had the urge to smack the glass out of his hands, spilling the contents all over him. You gave a disgusted scoff before turning and storming away from the table. Hearing Crowley crow after you to have a good night made your blood boil even more.

<> <> <>

Dean walked out of the bathroom in your bedroom in the suite, robe wrapped tightly around him. He was brushing his teeth while searching for his slippers. He found them and disappeared back into the bathroom. He had not wanted to go back home tonight, opting to pay for a luxurious room for the two of you to lounge in. You were not relaxing though, still infuriated with the salacious way Castiel had kept looking at you. It had set you aflame to feel those same lustful feelings when you had seen him. The man rubbed you completely the wrong way and yet, you still yearned to turn those feelings of annoyance into passion.

“Well, we tried,” Dean told you, emerging once more.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Not hard enough. They should not feel the right to refuse a request like this.”

“I don’t know what you thought we could do more.”

He was so ready to give up. Dean typically gave up at the first signs of difficulty and passed the buck to someone else to handle. You had been okay enough with it at first with your brazen personality you had no problem picking up tough situations and making sure they got solved. But tonight, after seeing Castiel, the stress and annoyance was boiling over.

“Are you fucking serious, Dean?” You demanded. His mouth fell open at your cursing and you said, “Oh, come off it! Are you serious? We could have done it ourselves. We could have brought them in. You know I would have been able to get them in cuffs myself.”

“Y/N, that would not have worked. Two on two? And you would have caused a scene in the bar. There’s no reason to get police involved.”

Snapping, you shouted, “Dean, can you just for once do…” You caught yourself, closing your eyes. You had been about to lose your temper and say something you were going to regret. Breathing deeply, you tried to push the anger back below the surface. You needed air; you needed some release. Turning and snatching your purse, you searched for your shoes. “Never mind.”

“Can I do what?” Dean pressed when he recovered from your outburst as you made to go grab your jacket.

“It’s not worth it,” you dismissed him.

Dean stepped closer, concern laced in his features. “Apparently it is if you’re this upset.”

“This is what I’m talking about,” you said exasperated, gesturing at him. “You should be mad at me for being mad at you and yelling.”

“Why would I do that?”

Letting out a small growl, you turned and stormed towards the door.

“Where are you going?” He called after you, worried.

“Out!”

‘It’s late, Y/N!”

“Don’t wait up for me then.”

<> <> <>

Lying on the bed naked, you waited, flipping through your phone. You had gone down the street, paying for a room at a far less extravagant hotel in cash. No paper trail was going to be left for John to find.

When you heard the key at the door – you had asked the front desk to hold one for pick up – you lowered your phone. The door opened and Castiel walked in.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he snapped seeing you and rushing to close the door and lock it behind him.

You ignored his outburst, leaning over and placing your phone on the bedside table. “Figured you would have slowed down on the drinking after seeing me. I like being right.”

“History does have a way of informing my decisions,” Castiel replied, taking a few steps further into the room. He was looking at your bare skin, eyes lingering. You made a hum of approval, lying back on the bed, legs crossed, giving a shielded view of your pussy. Castiel tore his eyes away and asked, “Is this a trap?”

Smiling coyly, you asked, “Do you want to risk the opportunity to find out?”

“I suppose not.” He removed his jacket, tossing it on the chair next to the desk. His fingers hooked into the hem of his shirt and he pulled it over his head. He was not going to waste time giving you the opportunity to change your mind about all this.

“Come here,” you ordered him, sitting up and getting onto your knees at the edge of the bed.

You undid his belt and his pants, allowing him to shimmy to let them fall to the ground. His boxers went next and he pushed you back onto the bed, crawling on top of you.

“You got a condom?” he breathed into your ear, letting out a low groan when your hand found his cock.

Stroking, you whispered back, “No.”

“No?”

“Did I stutter? You’re safe, right?”

“That’s romantic—” Castiel started to say but your hand cupped his balls and he groaned again. “Yes. Yes. I got tested a couple weeks ago, actually.”

“How fortuitous,” you answered, stroking him again. You were rewarded with a throaty chuckle from him and his lips landing on yours. He drug his lips across yours, relishing in the taste.

Castiel growled, losing patience. He pushed your hand away and lined himself up with your entrance. He slid in, slamming his mouth to yours as you opened up for him. His composure was slipping feeling your tightness around him as he began thrusting in and out. You knew he was not this crazy for anyone else. You kissed him back with fervor, falling into the familiar rhythm; you had not felt him like this in over a year. The last had been shortly after you and Dean had gotten married and you had held out for this long by avoiding him up until tonight.

“I missed you,” you gasped, dragging your lips along his jaw before coming back to nip at his lip.

His tongue slipped past your lips and you moved to wrap your arms around his neck as he continued to steadily move in and out, you dripping around him.

You pushed him away and he looked at you momentarily confused. You began to shift position, and he followed your motion, pulling out to let you guide him. Climbing on top of him, you slid down his length. You rode him, each dive pushing him deeper until he bottomed out. Increasing your speed, your hands planted on his chest, moans leaving your throat. Praises fell from Castiel, his fingers digging into your sides.

“You look so fucking sexy, baby,” he grunted, his eyes following your tits bouncing.

You were close and you let go of him to put your hands on the headboard. Gripping tightly, you used it as leverage to quicken your pace, crying out as his cock brushed your core.

“Cum for me,” Castiel said. “Come on, baby, I wanna feel it.”

You cried out, losing your rhythm. Castiel took the opportunity to hold you in place tighter, continuing to plummet into you as you saw stars. You barely registered feeling Castiel fill you up, his fingers bruising with his grip.

Collapsing on the bed next to him, you breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself.

Silence fell between the two of you, both staring at the ceiling. It was becoming too much, being this close to him. You had messed up yet again. You knew the moment John told you who you were going to go after that you would, but you had tried so desperately to lie to yourself about the inevitable outcome. You needed some space or something to drink to make yourself relax.

Clearing your throat, you asked, “You want a drink? I bought a bottle.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and got out, walking over to the mini fridge. You pulled out the bottle of whiskey, placing it on the counter to be able to reach over and grab two of the Styrofoam provided cups. He had not answered but you were pouring him one all the same.

You tossed a look over your shoulder at Castiel. He was propped up on his elbow, looking at you with longing.

“What?” you asked lightly, although your heart was pounding. You knew that look.

“I still love you, you know.”

The admission made you falter, as you put the cap back on the bottle. Recovering, you quickly screwed the lid back on and put the bottle back in the fridge, grabbing one of the cans of pop to split it between the cups. You tossed the can into the recycling bin.

“I’m fully aware, Cas,” you finally said shortly.

You heard him chuckle behind you. “You were always terrible with affection, Y/N.”

Now you turned to him, shooting him a glare. “Like you’re the poster child for it.”

“Touché.”

Swallowing sharply, you threw your hand out. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Cas.”

“You almost told me earlier. You said you missed me.”

“Well… I do.”

Castiel sighed, “But you can’t just come out and say it.”

Scoffing, you said, “Cas, I’m married.” It was his turn to scoff, and he swept his arm around at the messed-up sheets and the scene between you. “You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t. Explain yourself.”

“I love Dean,” you snapped, and his mouth formed a tight line. You knew he hated hearing that, despite the fact it was the truth.

“You can love more than one person at a time, Y/N.”

Shaking your head, you told him defiantly, “No. No I can’t. Not for my own sanity.”

“You reached out to me. You cut me out and then the moment you saw me again, all that resolve you tried to have disappeared almost instantly. You know there’s a reason for that.”

Opening your mouth, you closed it again, at loss for words. He was staring at you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

He was right and it cut deep knowing he was right. You had feelings for them both and it was for different reasons. Dean would never be Cas and Cas would never be Dean. Why could you not have them both? It was not possible, but you wanted it. So badly.

Raising your gaze again, you met his burning stare. “Fine,” you whispered. “Fine, Castiel. I do love you too.”

“Then do something about it.”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

#castiel x reader #au!castiel fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #au!dean #au!dean x reader #my shit

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #384

“watch your tongue or have it cut from your head”

Do you post to say happy birthday on other people’s walls? Sometimes. Depends on my mood and the person. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Idr. What’s your favorite television commercial? I don't watch TV enough at all to have one. And who has a favorite commercial, anyway? Do you trip a lot? I don't really trip a lot, but kinda fumble over my footing and stray a bit. I'm horrible at walking straight, and it's gotten worse as my legs have. How old is your television? The one in the living room is god knows how old. My parents were still together when they bought it. When did you last talk on the phone with someone? A couple days ago for my appointment with my psychiatrist. Are you currently sleepy? I'm quite convinced I'm permanently tired. Are you hot or cold natured? I am ALWAYS fucking hot, ugh. Do you take any advanced classes? I took mostly Honors classes in school. Do you have weak upper body strength? My body is just weak as a whole. What is the worst insult someone can call you? Emotionally weak. Are you good at sketching? If we're talking meerkats, haha. They're the only complex thing that I can freehand no problem without needing a reference, honestly. Ever play Angry Birds? Nah. I thought the movie was cute, though. Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yeah. Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No. Are you afraid someone might steal your identity someday? It's not something I actively worry about at all. Like, you don't want my identity, I promise. Do you have any talents that come naturally? Growing up, adults always told me I was a "gifted" artist and writer. Also that I seem to have an unnaturally strong connection with animals. I've always been that person where a pet's owner is like "omg ____ never lets people do that" and whatnot. Have you ever had plastic surgery before? I haven't. It's funny though, how opposed to it I used to be... Like goddamn, I was such a fucking stupid and honestly judgmental teenager, regarding many things. I look back on her and cringe. Like damn dude, if you have a safe surgical procedure to help you enjoy the body you're stuck with the rest of your life, you go for it, boo. Are you afraid of airplane rides? Not really. What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift you’ve gotten? There was this one year where Jason had to go to work on Valentine's Day and I was super bummed, yet he still surprised me with a heart-shaped box of chocolates, roses, and a game I really wanted, Heavy Rain. I thought it was the sweetest. What is something you lose often? My phone. ;-; Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? I don't enter any. Do you consider yourself physically active? *chuckles nervously* Do you have Netflix? Yeah. Favorite salad dressing? That Olive Garden replica you can buy at the store. Do you enjoy dancing? Once upon a time I did. My body could never handle it now. Have you ever considered writing a novel? Many times. Snow or sand? Snow, by twenty thousand miles. It is VERY hard for me to walk through sand, and I also hate hate hate hate HATE the sensation. Do you like sour candy? Heeeeeell yeah man. Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what & how? Nothing notable. Are you a clumsy person? Like you would not fucking believe. Last male you talked to in person? I think my primary physician's nurse. Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No. Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? Pink lemonade, for sure. But I love both. Chocolate or strawberry milk? CHOCOLATE. Strawberry milk is disgusting. Have you ever won a contest on the radio?No. Is there a song that reminds you of your best friend? There's quite a few. Has a book ever made you cry? Yes. Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time. Do you know anyone who has a pet bunny? Not that I'm aware. What store or website would you most like a gift card for? Rebel's Market. How do you feel about wolves? I adore wolves. Beautiful, majestic creatures with very interesting social dynamics. Name your top 3 favorite musical instruments. Electric guitar, violin, piano. What was the last book(s) you bought at a bookstore? At an actual bookstore, I think it was The Fault In Our Stars, which I never actually read. Do you use Pinterest? Yes. Do you know any sign language? No. Do you have a favorite poem? No. Do you have a dog? No. The one we were pretty much stuck with has a home now. Have you ever read The Little House on the Prairie series? I haven't. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Have you ever performed in front of more than 100 people? Yes, for dance. When (if ever) was the last time you went to church? Forever ago, I don't even remember the last time. What's a quote you think is really powerful? There's a whole lot. The first one that came to mind was, "An eye for an eye will leave the world blind," which I do believe has great depth in it. Have you ever had to do your laundry at a laundromat? Yes. Are you the oldest person who lives in your household? No. My mom is turning 60 (... I think?) this year. If you have tattoos, how long have you had them? I got my first the day I turned 18. Do you and your dad have similar personalities? We're alike in some ways, imo most notably in that we have NO fucking common sense, embarrassing as that is to admit. We're both kinda slow at understanding things, too. What were the last three things you had to drink? Mountain Lightning, milk, and water. What did your family usually do for Easter when you were a kid? Us three kids all got Easter baskets full of stuff, and we'd go egg-hunting when we were all awake. My little sister Nicole would always wake our parents up in excitement, haha. My parents hid plenty throughout the house, and there was always this one "special" egg that was actually from Mom's childhood and was extremely intricate and beautiful. You basically "won" the hunt if you found it, and it was extremely well-hidden. When you have house guests over, where do they sleep? Historically since living here, my two half-sisters and their spouses (the only people who've stayed over) slept in what is *technically* Mom's room, but for whatever reason this woman still insists on sleeping on the couch in the living room, I guess because she's used to it after all the years she didn't have her own room and bed. Are you emotionally stable? LOLOOLOLOOLLOLOOLOOLOLLOOLOLLLLLLLLLLL Do you still talk to the very first person you had sex with? No. Are you an atheist? No. I don't quite know how to define what I am, but since I believe there's SOME higher power, I don't think it's fitting to call me an atheist. What’s the largest bug you’ve ever found in your house? Hm... I'm unsure. Probably a male mosquito, 'cuz them bitches are big'ins. Would it annoy you if a stranger called you "sweetie?" If it was a man, I'd be creeped out. Are you into fashion design? Not really. What’s the worst thing you’ve gone through in the past year? My leg muscles continuing to degrade, honestly. I have to do something about this shit. How did you get your last bruise? I fell when stepping over the stupid dog gate. Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday? Yikes, no. Would you rather have some bacon or beef jerky? Bacon. Do you like your orange juice with lots or no pulp? NONE. Do you wear skinny jeans? Back when I wore jeans, they were the only kind I wore. What projects are you doing now for school? I'm outta school. What’s the most number of comments you have on a Facebook picture? What is the picture of? I have no idea. Do you like coconut flavored things? No. Have you ever met a famous author before? No. Do you know anybody who has been raped before? No, thank god. I know someone who might've almost been, though. I don't know what the fucking pig was going to do to her if my sister and I weren't there. Have you ever wished for bigger boobs? No. Being overweight, I just want smaller ones now, haha. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? I've gone many days without it. How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four, if you're counting everyone that had the "boyfriend" title. Where were you going the last time you were on a plane? Home from Illinois. Where were you going the last time you were on a train? I've never been on one. Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? Holy fuck, yes. You would never guess now that I was perfectly healthy in high school especially, yet I still thought I was kinda fat. It hurts so much to look back on. When growing up, did you parents keep the house very tidy? I mean not excessively, but Mom was pretty dedicated to keeping the house in decent condition. With three kids though, of course the house was somewhat messy with toys and all. When you shop at IKEA, do you always stop to eat a snack/meal in the cafeteria? ... There's a fucking cafeteria in a furniture store? o_o I've never been there before. How many watches do you own? None, save for one in my "treasure box" from when I was a kid. I was SO SO SO obsessed with Finding Nemo that I kept my broken one. I did the same with my horribly aged sneakers, like the soles were coming off and Mom finally made me stop wearing them, ha. Are there any ways in which you greatly differ from everyone else in your family? I do fucking nothing and am useless to society. Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? Yes, because emergencies happen. I personally think it's best to maybe have your cell phone flipped over on the corner of your desk or something and on vibrate, that way the noise isn't too disruptive and the teacher can see you're not just using it for other purposes. Do you have any gay relatives? Yes. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Sigh, multiple. Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? If so, what was the reason? Not recently. How many cups of coffee do you typically drink per day? None. Do you know what your vocal range is? No, but it's not very broad. What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? I haven't been in this position before. Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? I wanna say over a month while we were technically homeless. How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? Oh dear, it was rough. Like there were people who had it worse than me, but ya girl was lookin preeeetty rough lmao.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''hail to the king'' by avenged sevenfold

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not-a-space-alien · 3 years

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Ghost in the Machine

Hi everyone, now that the big reveal is up, here is the fic i wrote for the Good Omens Holiday exchange this year :) Just a cute little ficlet about the Them! it was Halloween when I wrote it :)

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None

Summary: The Them hunt some ghosts.

On DW and AO3

The lights clicked back on, washing the darkness out of a room packed with pillows and blankets arranged in a crude fort.

“Wow,” said Brian. “That sure was a scary movie.”

“It wasn’t that scary,” said Pepper, who had in fact been scared quite a lot.

Wensleydale looked around at their nest, where half-eaten Halloween candy still lay strewn about. “It was...seasonally appropriate.”

“It’s okay to admit you were scared,” said Brian.

“It wasn’t scary,” said Pepper.

“It was!” said Brian. “When the ghost lady phased through the wall— and the— And then she— Phcrowwwwww!” Here Brian made an outward expanding gesture reminiscent of an explosion that had happened in the movie.

“What did you think of it, Adam?” said Pepper. “It wasn’t scary, was it? Tell them.”

They all turned to Adam, who sat cross-legged on the blankets. He stared at the credits rolling on the screen with a glassy-eyed expression.

“Adam?”

***

“Right,” said Adam, marching up and down their regimented line. “Now who are we?”

The Them looked at each other uncomfortably.

“I said, who are we?”

“Adam, I don’t know if—” Pepper began.

“Tell me who we are!”

“The Ghostbusters,” Brian sighed.

“Adam, I don’t think you can really do that,” said Wensleydale, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Ghostbusters is a comedy, and it’s meant to be silly, whereas the ghost from the movie last night was—”

“Not scary,” Pepper insisted.

“Meant to be scary, at least,” Wensleydale said. “Not to mention we look nothing like the actual Ghostbusters. I mean, we haven’t got proton packs or anything.”

“No,” Adam shot back, who had rather liked the Ghostbusters when he had seen them a few years ago and was quite sour about the fight Wensleydale was putting up, “but what we have is better.”

Wensleydale rolled the crude gun constructed of toilet paper tubes in his hands. On the side was written in marker “Ghost gun.” “’Suppose,” he said unsurely.

Brian fiddled with the knobs on his Spooky-o-meter, which was a highly advanced technology with a dial that could move between phases of red and green, and was made of the latest cutting-edge next-gen materials.* “We’re all in the clear right now,” said Brian, manually sliding the dial to the lowest setting. “The Spookometer’s not picking anything up.”

*A cardboard shipping box

“It’s pronounced ‘Spooky-o-meter,’” said Adam.

“But Spookometer sounds better,” Brian complained.

“Well, when you invent the latest and greatest in ghost-detecting technology, then you can name it and decide how it’s pronounced,” said Adam. “As I recall, while I crafted the Spooky-o-meter, you were off failing to help Pepper perfect the Ghost Maul.”

Pepper hefted her weapon, which was a Ghost Sword. It had been their second choice when their first efforts failed to live up to the images of mauls they had seen in their library books full of images of medieval weapons. It turns out a “maul” can look pretty similar to a simple big mallet if you make it out of cardboard, which isn’t very intimidating or cool looking.

“Anyway,” said Pepper, “we can’t be the Ghostbusters anyway because we’re killing the ghosts, not busting them. Can’t very well bust a ghost with a sword, can you? Really only one thing a sword can do.”

“Fine,” said Adam snidely. “We can be the Ghostkillers, then. Is that better? We are an original group of ghost fighters that fights ghosts and kills them. How about that?”

Wensleydale nodded.

“Right!” said Adam. He hefted his own cardboard construction, much larger than anyone else’s, which was roughly in the shape of a rifle and had the words “Supernatural Laser Rifle” on the side. “Now I’ve got it on good authority that there’s a very spooky haunted house just on the other side of town, which probably has a few good ghosts there for us to check out…”

***

The very spooky haunted house just on the other side of town in question was the archetype of a haunted house, with peeling paint, boarded up windows, dead ivy clinging to the sides, a rusty metal fence, and a muddy yard full of weeds.

The Them all looked at it unsurely.

“This...this house definitely wasn’t here before,” said Wensleydale. “...Right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Adam. “Look how old it is. It’s got to be hundreds of years old. A hundreds of years old house doesn’t just appear.”

“I think Wensleydale is right,” said Pepper. “We drive past this street all the time on the way to school, and I’ve definitely never seen this house before.”

“Nonsense,” said Adam. “Dunderheads, the lot of you. You think someone would just make a weird old house for us to play in? Doesn’t happen.” Adam courageously kicked the gate open, brandishing his cardboard rifle. “Watch out, ghosts! We’re coming for you!”

He marched forward, his galoshes splattering the mud. The rest of the Them looked at each other for a moment before following uneasily.

Adam made a motion to kick the door down, realised that his scrawny, twelve-year-old body would definitely lose that fight, and settled for trying the knob. It was unlocked.

“Are you sure we’re supposed to go in here?” said Brian fearfully. “What if it’s dangerous?”

“Of course it’s dangerous,” said Adam. “There’s ghosts in there. It’s our job to clear them out so they don’t hurt anyone else, before it’s too late. Didn’t you watch the movie last night?”

Brian clutched his Spooky-o-meter. “But that ghost in the movie killed people before they took her down!”

“Right,” said Adam.

Brian moved the dial of the Spooky-o-meter up to medium. “I’m starting to pick up something.”

Adam peeked in, using the tiny torch he had fished out of the door of his parent’s car to illuminate the entryway. Dust motes floated ominously in the cold, dead air. “I’m not surprised. Looks like there’s a nasty ghost infestation here. We got here just in time.”

“Let’s get them,” said Pepper. “That is, if you’re sure, Adam…”

“Of course I’m sure.” Adam pushed the door all the way open and noted just for the first time how very dark the house was, and why his friends had been complaining. He swallowed. “Let’s go.”

The floorboards creaked under their approach, the frame of the house groaning. Wensleydale and Pepper also pulled out torches they had brought. Brian pulled one out, but its batteries were dead, so he skittered forward and hugged close to Adam. He moved the needle on the Spooky-o-meter up again. “Getting some serious signals here, Adam.”

Adam pointed his rifle at the stairs, then at the door to what must have been a closet, then at the entryway into an ornate kitchen covered in grime. It was anachronistically fancy, covered in a layer of dust and soot an inch thick, with randomly placed holes in the floorboards; in short, it was exactly what a child’s imagination of a haunted house should look like.

A distant moaning sounded. Brian lifted the Spooky-o-meter. “I think it’s coming from upstairs, Adam.”

“Right. Be careful, everyone,” said Adam.

He led the group towards the stairs, inching up them on high alert. Each agonizing step up was accompanied by a floorboard crying out.

They reached the landing. A faint glow came from the next room.

“Adam,” said Pepper, her courage evaporating.

“It’s off the charts!” said Brian.

They all pointed their weapons. “Come out, you ghost!” yelled Adam. “I’m not afraid of you!”

A spectre appeared, a shrieking, transparent woman in a dressing gown with matted, frayed hair, screaming like the devil, jumping straight through the wall.

Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale all shrieked in turn, jumping back and hitting into the bannister, their cardboard weapons forgotten.

“Adam!” said Pepper.

“A ghost!” said Wensleydale. “A real ghost! Adam!”

The look of excitement cresting Adam’s face began to fade.

“It’s just like the ghost in the movie!” Brian cried.

“Yeah,” said Adam, shoulders slumping. “It’s just like the ghost in the movie.”

The Them looked at him. The ghost hovered there, suspended.

“Adam, what do we do?” Pepper said.

Adam dropped his cardboard rifle. The ghost dissipated into a wisp of smoke. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

And he put his hands in his grubby pockets and slunk down the stairs, out of the haunted house.

***

It was almost bedtime when the Them managed to catch up to Adam, sulking in the quarry alone.

“Adam,” said Wensleydale, plopping down on the ground next to him. “That was pretty uncool, you know. You just left us there.”

“Sorry I guess,” said Adam.

“You’re not sorry,” said Pepper hotly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s not like you were ever in any real danger,” snapped Adam. “What does it matter?”

“You don’t know that there wasn’t any real danger,” said Wensleydale. “There was a ghost and everything!”

“What’s wrong, Adam?” said Brian. “I thought you’d be super excited to find a ghost. That’s what we went there for, isn’t it?”

Adam stretched out his legs, examining his untied shoelaces morosely. “It was the same ghost as in the movie.”

“So?” said Pepper.

“So?” said Adam. “You think that just happens?”

“Not any more than a real ghost just happens!”

Adam drew his legs up to his chest. “I made that happen.”

Pepper and Wensleydale looked at each other. Brian picked his nose.

“What do you mean?” said Pepper.

“The house, the ghost, the whole ghostbusting thing, I made that happen. I have supernatural powers that means that sort of thing...just sort of happens sometimes.”

This is something the Them had sort of half-forgotten since the attempted apocalypse; they knew deep down this was true about Adam, but they generally sort of ignored it, for all their sakes.

“Then why are you sulking about it?” said Brian.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” snapped Adam. “I thought it would be fun to go ghost hunting and the universe just rearranged itself to make it happen. I didn’t realize it until I saw the actual ghost that it was all just something I made up because I watched the movie. My subconscious mind just copied the movie. You guys all saw it, but I kept telling you to shut up about it.”

“It’s okay, Adam,” said Pepper. “You don’t have to feel bad about not thinking up your own ghost.”

“It’s not about the ghost!” Adam yelled. He hid his face in his hands. “I thought that maybe, for once, the universe could have a surprise for me, and I could get to have an adventure without knowing the ending. I was having fun making pretend until the evidence that I made it all up smacked me in the face.”

The Them all looked at each other.

“How am I supposed to have fun fighting ghosts if I know I can just snap my fingers and make the ghost go away? It’s like cheating at a video game to give yourself infinite lives. It takes the fun out of it. And that’s going to be my whole life.”

Pepper sat down next to Adam. “Adam…”

“I thought I had gotten rid of all that, but the universe keeps doing this even though I’m not telling it to anymore.”

“I thought it was fun, though,” said Brian.

Adam’s tearful gaze turned onto him.

“I kind of figured it wasn’t really real.”

“Yeah,” Wensleydale muttered.

“S’not about it being real, really. S’about it being fun. Isn’t hunting a ghost fun, even if it’s just pretend?”

“I don’t think I’d want to hunt a real ghost,” said Brian. “It’s like America and cowboys and stuff. It’s all fun to pretend with, but at the end of the day it’s nice to just put it away.”

“Those people in the movie last night knew it wasn’t real,” said Pepper. “The actors, I mean. But they seemed to have fun. And we knew the movie wasn’t real, but we all had fun.”

Adam sulked.

“It’s there for us to play with. Why be sad about that?”

“I just…” Adam trailed off, then said, resignedly, “How am I ever supposed to have fun when I could at any moment realize it's all been something I did?"

“Does that really make it so bad, Adam?” said Pepper.

“I would give anything to know what was going on,” said Brian.

“Hey Adam, you know those board games people play with the polyhedral die and spreadsheets and mini figures of elves and dragons and stuff?” Wensleydale said.

Adam uncurled his knees and looked at Wensleydale. “Yeah. What about ‘em?”

“One of the players is the dungeon master. He always knows what’s going on, because he’s the one who designs the game. He’s the most powerful player in that universe.”

Adam perked up a little. “You’re saying I’m like that?”

“The dungeon master has the most fun out of any of the players, too, as long as the other players are on board with the game he’s trying to make. My older brother let me play with his friends a couple of times.”

“You guys always like the games I think up,” said Adam.

“Yeah! My point is,” said Wensleydale, “just because you’re in control, or you know what’s going to happen, doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. The only limit is your imagination, and we all know what a cracking imagination you have.”

“I would love to play a game like that with you,” said Pepper. “I think you’d be great at it, Adam.”

“Do you want to go finish busting the ghost?” said Wensleydale. “I was scared out of my mind, but I think it’d be a lot of fun now that I know it’s just a game.”

“Really?” said Adam.

“Yeah,” said Wensleydale. “It’s better that way.”

Adam stood up, looking up at the reddening sky. He smiled. “Wens, what did we say earlier? We can’t be busting the ghost. But maybe you’re right… It’s late enough now that it’ll be dark in the house, and we’ll get in trouble for getting home late. That’s sort of the point too, right? People have to treat the heroes like they’re crazy for believing in ghosts?”

“Yeah,” said Pepper. “Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll get arrested!”

The them climbed out of the quarry, voices now raised in childish anticipation. They would indeed get grounded for being out too late, and the haunted house would mysteriously disappear in the morning light, but they knew their best games were still ahead of them.

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic

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anenglishmansinamorata · 4 years

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SFW APH England Headcanons (Arthur Kirkland): Under Quarantine

Author’s Notes: Another unneeded list of headcanon dedicated to our beloved thick-browed Englishman! I wish everyone a safe and comfortable time during our time under quarantine. Also, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I was having fun writing this.

P.S. I can’t stop and I won’t stop loving Arthur.

When the government had issued a nationalwide quarantine, Arthur and you had been planning on making a weekend trip down to a cottage in the English countryside.

Once you had made a few calls to make the cancellations, the blonde walked over and gave your hand a weak squeeze before leaning down to place a comforting kiss against your temple.

The blonde noted the disappointed look in your eyes and knew that you had been looking forward to the trip because you had been quite stressed from work.

Earlier on the day, both of you had received a call from your respective workplaces to figure out what the next few days were going to look like and found that the two of you would be working from home.

Arthur had also been instructed to stay at home and that the necessary documents from Parliament would be dropped off in the mailbox. Any meetings that he may need to attend would be either through video or conference calls.

While Arthur had taken up the task of trying to clean out his office of the unnecessary clutter while you were downstairs trying to figure out what to make for dinner that night.

You checked your pantry and decided that you may have to make a quick trip down to the grocer's to pick up some essentials--like dry and canned goods, household supplies and some medication in case either one of you may get sick.

Making a list of what to buy, you tried to plan out the different dishes that you may need and the ingredients--possibly some chips, candies and even a bit of alcohol.

When you heard your significant other walking down the creaky stairs, you called out to him to catch his attention. The blonde quickly walked over to take a look at what you were writing as he kept a book tucked underneath his arm--his latest read being Murder of the Orient Express.

After explaining that a trip to the grocery was needed, the Brit merely nodded and insisted that he accompany you considering that it would be one of the few chances for both of you to get some fresh air.

When two of you finished lunch, Arthur had gathered a few reusable bags and waited on you. Seeing that you were struggling to put on your shoes, Arthur offered his vacant arm as you almost lost your balance instead of sitting down on the entryway stool.

You gave the blonde a thankful smile as he handed you your coat before donning his outerwear. Within a few minutes, the two of you were out the door and into the slightly chilly spring air.

Thankfully, the grocery store was a few blocks away and a short walk was more than welcomed considering that it was one of the few opportunities you had to stretch both of your legs.

You could count the number of people that were currently out of their homes with your fingers and it filled you with a mixture of gloominess and nostalgia. Usually, the road you were both currently on was filled with people walking making their way towards their destinations and the sound of different types of noise filled the air.

Whenever the two of you took a walk, the Englishman would mostly hold your hand but with the current situation, you had opted to hold his arm which made him scoff a bit but didn't comment.

Thankfully, there weren't a large number of people in the store and the two of you were able to easily enter. Arthur had taken it upon himself to take a basket as he leads you towards the produce section. It took only a few minutes to gather what you needed--some fruit and vegetables--before moving on to the butcher's area.

Arthur spoke to the employee as you wandered over to the frozen food area, thinking to yourself whilst keeping in mind to keep from touching the different items excessively. After picking a mixed bag of frozen peas and carrots, you made your way over to the thick-browed Englishman who seemed to be inspecting a box of shrimps.

Arthur had been complaining about wanting to try some seafood but after the last time, he had tried making you one of his homeland's most popular dishes--Jellied Eels. You fought back down the shudder that crept down your spine before tugging at his arm.

The blonde tried to convince you by listing the different dishes he could make with the box of shrimps until you finally conceded. You released a small sigh as you made a silent note to have him promise to cook together instead of merely leaving him to his own devices. The last thing you needed was the house burnt down.

Before the blonde could buy anything else, you tugged at his arm and led him away towards the canned goods area. You had given Arthur the task of retrieving some flour, sugar, pasta and pasta sauce while you went to get some eggs, milk and sour cream from the dairy section.

It took less than five minutes for you to gather the things needed before making your way to where the aisle where you expected Arthur to be in. It was then you found him the next aisle over mulling in front of the different tea boxes.

You stood beside the Englishman who didn't seem to notice your presence, you couldn't help but peek over his shoulder to see him debating over his regular Earl Gray and Black teas. Watching in amusement, you couldn't help but bite your lip as he began reading the listed contents on the back of the packages.

Unable to help yourself, you decided to wait a bit longer until the blonde finally decided on a box before turning around only to find you standing there with an amused expression. The blonde spluttered in surprise as he tried to ask how long you have been standing there to which you respond cheekily with: "Long enough."

The time spent lining up at the cashier was rather quick and in less than twenty minutes, the two of you were able to leave the grocers. The walk home was as uneventful with Arthur and you talking about what they planned on doing for the next few days.

Arthur and you decided that maybe picking up a new hobby for the both of you would help with filling your days and keeping the boredom away. Arthur offered to teach you calligraphy and promised to dig out a few of his old pens and some parchment.

When you reached the house, the Englishman and you made quick work of the groceries being placed in their proper places. Tonight, both you planned to have a quiet dinner and then watching some of your favourite shows.

The next few days were quiet with most mornings filled with Arthur and you dealing with paperwork and talking to other people over the phone. In the afternoon, you had tea and whatever treats Arthur made while sitting on the patio. In the evening, the two of you would share dinner and once the dishes were washed and cleared away the two would play a few tabletop games.

You persuaded Arthur to play a few card games--namely Blackjack--and it only made him frustrated when he couldn't win a single game. It was then the blonde insisted that you both play a different game. It was only when he pulled out an old box of Risk that you knew that you were going to be crushed thoroughly.

One night, you convinced him to take part in your skincare routine. At first, he only scoffed at the multiple and complicated steps but that soon changed. It was only when he finally removed the face mask that you forced him to wear when he noticed how nice his skin felt. Whenever he saw you doing your routine, he would steal a face mask and sit down with a book in his hand while waiting.

There were days that you accompanied Arthur as he spent his afternoons gardening and you watered the said plants. There had been this one time you decided to 'accidentally' water him and you received an earful for more than half an hour--After that, he didn't trust you with a hose anymore.

On another night, Arthur had been able to dig up some old regency films and he had persuaded you to watch them with him. Sitting down, you immediately cuddled up to the blonde who wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

As the ending credits of the film continued, Arthur couldn't help but hum along with the song all the while pressing his face up against your hair. You could barely feel the lightest peck on your forehead when your significant other mumbled softly: "I promise. We'll go on that trip when this is all over."

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chiseler · 3 years

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Ophelia By the Yard

Cobwebbed passages and wax-encrusted candelabra, dungeons festooned with wrist manacles, an iron maiden in every niche, carpets of dry ice fog, dead twig forests, painted hilltop castles, secret doorways through fireplaces or behind beds (both portals of hot passion), crypts, gloomy servants, cracking thunder and flashes of lightning, inexplicably tinted light sources, candles impossibly casting their own shadows, rubber bats on wires, grand staircases, long dining tables, huge doors with prodigiously pendulous knockers to rival anything in Hollywood.

Here was the precise moment — and it was nothing if not inevitable — when the darkness of horror film, both visible and inherent, leapt from the gothic toy box now joined by a no less disconcerting array of color. The best, brightest, sweetest, and most dazzling red-blooded palette that journeyman Italian cinematographers could coax from those tired cameras. Color, both its commercial necessity as well as all it promised the eye, would hereafter re-imagine the genre’s possibilities, in Italy and, gradually, everywhere else.

When color hit the Italian Gothic cycle, a truly new vision was born. In Hammer films and other UK horror productions, the cheapness of Eastmancolor made it possible for blood to be red. Indeed, very red. And, while we shouldn't underestimate the startling impact this had, it was a fairly literal use of the medium. In the Italian movies, and to a large extent in Roger Corman's Poe cycle, color was an unlikely vehicle to further dismantle realism rather than to assert it. Overrun with tinted lights and filters, none of which added to the film’s realistic qualities, the movies became delirious. In Corman's Masque of the Red Death, we learn of an experiment that uses color to drive a man insane; it seems that filmmakers like Corman and Mario Bava were attempting the very same trick on their audiences.

The application of candy-wrapper hues to a haunted castle flick like The Whip and the Body adds a pop art vibe at odds with the genre, and when you get to something like Kill, Baby...Kill! the Gothic trappings are barely able to mask a distinctly modern sensibility, so much so that Fellini could plunder its phantasmal elements for Toby Dammit, fitting them perfectly into his sixties Roman nightmare.

Blood and Black Lace brings the saturated lighting and Gothic fillips into the twentieth century -- a sign creaking in a gale is the first image, translated from Frankensteinland to the exterior of a contemporary fashion house. A literal faceless killer disposes of six women in diabolical ways. The sour-faced detective remains several deaths back on the killer’s trail because the movie knows its audience, knows that it has zero interest in detection, character, motivation — though it’s all inertly there as a pretext for sadism, set-pieces of partially-clad women being hacked up, dot the film like musical numbers or action sequences might appear in a different genre.

Since the 19th-century audience for literary Gothic Horror was comprised of far fewer men than women, would it be fair to ask whether Giallo’s advent might be an instrument of brutal violence, even revenge against “feminine” preoccupations? Consider 1964’s Danza Macabra, the film’s amorous vibes finding their ultimate source in that deathless screen goddess named Barbara Steele, whose marble white flesh photographs like some monument to classicism startled into unwanted Keatsian fever. Her presence practically demands that we ask ourselves: “Who is this wraith howling at a paper moon?” In other words, is it a coincidence that Steele’s “Elizabeth Blackwood” — a revenant temptress and undead sex symbol — hits screens the very same year as Giallo, which would transform Italian cinema into a decades-long death mill for women?

The name “giallo”, meaning yellow, derives from the crime paperbacks issued by Italian publisher Mondadori. The eye-catching covers, featuring a circular illustration of some act of infamy embedded in a yellow panel, became utterly associated with the genre of literature. These books were likely to be by Edgar Wallace, the most popular author in the western world, or Agatha Christie: cardboard characters sliding through the most mechanical of plots; or classier local equivalents, like Francesco Mastriani or Carolina Invernizio. The founding principles laid down concerned the elaborate deceptions concealed by their authors, traps for the unwary reader, and the use of a distinctive design motif. The tendency of the characterisation to lapse into sub-comic-book cliché, the figures incapable of expressing or inspiring real sympathy, was, perhaps, an unintended side-effect of the focus on narrative sleight-of-hand.

When Italian filmmakers sought to translate sensational literature to the screen, they looked to other filmic influences: American film noir, influenced by German expressionism and often made by German emigrés (Lang, Siodmak, Dieterle, Ulmer); and the popular krimi cycle being produced in West Germany, mostly based on Edgar Wallace's leaden "shockers." These deployed stock characters, bizarre methods of murder, deceptive plotting, and exuberant use of chiaroscuro, the stylistic palette of noir intensified by more fog, more shafts of light, more inky shadows. A certain amount of fun, but different from the coming bloodbath because Wallace, despite somewhat fascistic tendencies, is anodyne and anaemic by comparison. No open misogyny, a sadism sublimated in story, a touching faith in Scotland Yard and the class system. In the Giallo, Wallace's more sensational aspects are adopted but made to serve a sensibility quite alien to the stodgy Englander: people are generally rotten, the system stinks, and crime becomes a lurid spectator sport served up to a viewer both thrilled and appalled.

The Giallo fetishizes murder. But then, it fetishizes everything in sight. Every object, every half-filled wine glass and pastel-colored telephone, is photographed with obsessive, product-shot enthusiasm. Here, it must be emphasized that design implicates the viewer as the Italian camera-eye gawps like some unabashed tourist. Knife, wallpaper, onyx pinky ring — each detail transforms into an object made eerily subject: a sentient and glowering fragment of our own conscience, staring back at us in the darkened theater and pronouncing ineluctable guilt. And yet, for the directors who rode most dexterously the Giallo wave, homicide was something one did to women. Indulging in equal-opportunity lechery was merely an excuse to find other, more violent outlets for their misogyny. Please enter into evidence the demented enthusiasm for woman-killing evinced by Dario Argento, Mario Bava, Lucio Fulci, et al. — whatever trifling token massacres of men one might exhume from their respective oeuvres are inconsequential. Argento’s defense, “I love women, so I would rather see a beautiful woman killed than an ugly man,” should not satisfy us, and hardly seems designed to (also bear in mind Poe’s assertion that the death of a beautiful young woman was the most poetic of all subjects).

Filmmakers like Argento have no interest in sex per se. Suffering seems inessential, but terror and death are key, photographed with the same clinical absorption and aesthetic gloss as Giallo-maestros habitually apply to their interior design. Here, it must be emphasized that design implicates the viewer as the Italian camera-eye gawps like some unabashed tourist. Knife, wallpaper, onyx pinky ring – each detail transforms into an object made eerily subject: a sentient and glowering fragment of our own conscience, staring back at us in the darkened theater and pronouncing ineluctable guilt. That’s one important subtlety often lost amid Giallo’s vast antisocial hemorrhage.

Like a river of blood, homophobia, in the literal meaning of fear rather than hatred, runs through the genre. Lesbians are sinister and gay men barely exist. As we try to work out what in hell the Giallo is really up to, little dabs of dime-store Freudianism seem sufficient.

The filmmakers’ misogyny could be suspect, a sign of compromised masculinity, so they need fictional avatars to cloak their own feverish woman-hating. The subterfuge is clumsy at best, the desultory deceit embarrassingly macho. Giallo’s visual force, powerful enough to divorce eye from mind, is another matter, leaving us demoralized and ethically destitute; our hearts beating with all the righteous indignation of three dead shrubs (and maybe a half-eaten sandwich).

The Giallo is founded on an unstated assumption: the modern world brings forth monsters. Jack the Ripper was an aberration in his day, but now there's a Jack around every corner, behind every piece of modular furniture, every diving helmet lamp. Previously, disturbing events arose from what Ambrose Bierce called The Suitable Surroundings, or what the mad architect in Fritz Lang's The Secret Beyond the Door termed, with sly and sinister euphemism, "propitious rooms." There's the glorious line in Withnail and I: "That's the sort of window faces appear at." But now, in the modern world, evil occurs in the nicest of places, and tonal consistency died in a welter of cheerful stage blood. One needn’t enter an especially Bad Place to meet one’s worst nightmare, or perhaps better to say: the whole bright world qualified as a properly bad place. Imagine the pages of an interior design magazine invaded by anonymous psychopaths intent on painting the gleaming walls red.

Though the victims are overwhelmingly female and their killers male (Argento typically photographed his own leather-gloved hands to stand in for his assassin’s), when the violence becomes over-the-top in its sexualized woman-hating (like the crotch-stabbing in What Have You Done to Solange?), it’s usually a clue that the movie’s murderer will turn out to be female: a simple case of projection. Only Lucio Fulci, the most twisted of the bunch, trained as a doctor and experienced as an art critic, not only assigns misogyny to a straight male killer (The New York Ripper) but plays the killer himself in A Cat in the Brain. Though, in another self-protecting twist of narrative, all psychological explanations in Gialli are bullshit, always. Criminology and clinical psychology are largely ignored, and Argento has a clear preference for outdated theories like the extra chromosome signaling psychopathy (Cat O’Nine Tails). Did anybody use phrenology, or Lombroso’s crackpot physiognomic theories, as plot device?

A tradition of the Giallo is that the characters all tend to be dislikable, something Argento at least resisted in Cat O’ Nine Tails and Deep Red. With disposable characters, each of whom might be the killer and each of whose violent demise is served up as a set-piece, this distancing and contempt might just be a byproduct of the form rather than a principle or ethos, but it’s of some interest, perhaps mitigating the misogyny with a wash of misanthropy. A Unified Field Theory of Gialli would find a more deep-seated reason for the obnoxious characters as well as the stylized snuff and the glamorous presentation. What urge is being satisfied, and why here, now, like this?

Class war? Though prostitute-ripping is encouraged in the Giallo, most victims are wealthy, slashed to ribbons amid opulent interiors. Urbane characters who might previously have graced the sleek “white telephone” films of forties Italian cinema were briefly edged out by neo-realism’s concentration on the working class. Now these exquisite mannequins are trundled back onscreen to be ritually slaughtered for our viewing pleasure.

Victims must always be enviable: either beautiful and sexy or rich and swellegant, or all of the above, so the average moviegoer can rejoice in their dismemberment with a clear conscience. Mario Bava bloodily birthed the genre in Blood and Black Lace (1964), brutally offing fashion models in a variety of Sade-approved ways, the killer a literally faceless assassin into whom the (presumed male) audience could pour their own animosities without ever admitting it, with the female killer finally unmasked to provide exculpatory relief.

If narrative formulas absolve the straight male viewer, compositions have a way of ensnaring him. Beyond that omnivorous indulgence of sensation for its own lurid sake one finds in Giallo, there is a more gilded emphasis placed on Beauty (in the Catholic sense), and it is only the women who are mounted upon its pedestal. That these avatars of beauty are to be savored, ravaged, and brutalized — in that order — is what concerns us. But the sex and the suffering that captivates most sadists is never what registers; no, it is the instance of death, the terror that afflicts the dying woman’s face that resonates. Once again, physical interiors become a negative form of emotional interiority, rooms amplified for the sole purpose of grisly annihilations; a kind of heretical, strictly anti-Catholic transcendence through amoral delight in what otherwise falls under trivial headings, either “the visuals” or “color palette” – neither of which touch the essential nerve endings of Giallo.

Swaddled inside an otherwise hyper-masculine castle lies a windowless chamber with feminine, if not psychotic, decor. Before he tortures and stabs her to death, “Lord Alan Cunningham” (fresh from his sojourn in the asylum) brings his first victim to this pageant of off-gassing plastic furniture, the single most obnoxious vision ever imposed on gothic environs. Risibly overblown ’70s chic rules The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave with nods to Edgar Allan Poe, as the modish Lord juggles sports cars and medieval persecution. Laughs escape the viewer’s throat in dry heaves when each new MacGuffin devours itself without warning. Take “Aunt Agatha” (easily two decades younger than her middle-aged nephews) suddenly rising from her motorized wheelchair, clobbered from behind seconds later, her body dragged into a cage where foxes promptly munch her entrails. Nothing comes of this. The phony paralysis, the aunt’s role in a half-dozen mysteries, which include a battalion of sexy maids in miniskirts and blonde Harpo Marx wigs – all gulped, swallowed.

About the only thing we know for certain is that “Aunt Agatha” is gorgeous. Though, in the end, she’s another casualty of the same nihilism that crashes Giallo aesthetics headlong into Poe country. That is into “Lord Alan” and his gaudy room crowded with designer goods to be catalogued in a horror vacui of visual intrusiveness – a trashy shrine to his late wife, the titular Evelyn. If lapses of good taste define The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave, they also reflect Giallo’s abiding obsession with real estate. After all, this Mod hypnagogia has to fill the eye somewhere. Why not bang in the middle of a castle? Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher features a wealthy aristocrat burying his twin sister alive, thereby entombing his own femininity.

Evelyn represents both Usher’s primary theme of the divided self and the obdurate refusal to learn from it. “Alan,” who emerges a moral hero in the end (after his shrink aids and abets his murder spree), remains just as ornery, alienated, and vainglorious as Giallo itself. We’re never told precisely what the film’s fetish objects are supposed to mean. And since the camera seizes upon each one with existential grimness, we’re left with a visual style that begs its own questions.

Function follows form into the abyss. One Ophelia after another dies to satisfy our cruel delectation, even as will-o’-the-wisp light, taken from the bogs and neglected cemeteries of Gothic Horror, finds itself transformed into a crimson-dripping stiletto. Evelyn stands in for all Gialli, a genre which redefines film itself on the narrow front of visual impact: stainless steel cutlery and candy-colored light enact a sentient agenda as color becomes an instrument of hyperbolic misogyny that fills the eye and then some.

As with certain other Italian genres, notably the peplum, smart characterization, solid performances and decent dialogue seem not only unnecessary to the Giallo but unwelcome (the spaghetti western, conversely, in which many of the same directors dabbled, seemed to demand a steady stream of good, cold-blooded wise-cracks). Argento, in pursuit of that “non-Cartesian” quality he admired in Poe, took this to extremes, stringing non-sequiturs together to form absurdist cut-ups, torching his stars’ credibility merely by forcing them to utter such nonsense. And this wasn’t enough: from Suspiria (1977) on, the psychological thriller (which the Giallo is a sub-genre of, only the psychology has to be deliberately nonsensical) was increasingly replaced by the supernatural. So that the laws of nature could be suspended along with the laws of coherent motivation.

In Suspiria and its 1980 quasi-sequel Inferno, the traditional knifings are interspersed with more uncanny events, as when a stone eagle comes to life and somehow makes a seeing-eye dog kill his owner, and there are also grotesque incidents with no relation to story whatever: a shower of maggots, or an attack by voracious rats in Central Park. The Giallo’s quest for a solution, inspired as it was by the old-school whodunits, is all but abandoned, replaced by the search for the next sensational set-piece.

Argento’s villains are now witches, but, abandoning centuries of tradition, these witches show more interest in stabbing their fellow women with kitchen knives than with worshipping Satan or riding broomsticks. Regardless of who they’re meant to be, Argento’s characters must express his desires, enact the atrocities he dreams of. And inhabit places built for his aesthetic pleasure rather than their own. Following Bava’s cue, he saturates his rooms in light blasted through colored gels, making every scene a stained-glass icon, no naturalistic explanation offered for the lurid tinted hues. Just as no explanation is offered for the presence of a room full of coiled razor-wire in a ballet school, or for the behavior of the young woman who throws herself into its midst without looking.

Dario Argento’s true significance, at least with respect to Giallo, was perceiving in the nick of time the almost incandescent obviousness of its limitations; that Italian commercial cinema’s garish, polychromatic spin on the garden-variety psychological thriller – departing from its forebears mainly in the rampant senselessness of its “psychology” – had Dead End written all over it. It could never last. On the other hand, Giallo does take a fresh turn with Argento’s Inferno, thanks in no small measure to a woman screenwriter who sadly remains uncredited. Daria Nicolodi explains that “having fought so hard to see my humble but excellent work in Suspiria recognized (up until a few days before the première I didn’t know if I would see my name in the film credits), I didn’t want to live through that again, so I said, ‘Do as you please, in any case, the story will talk for me because I wrote it.’”

Daria Nicolodi

Nicolodi’s conception humanizes (it would be tempting to say “feminizes”) Argento’s usual sanguinary exercises du style, while at the same time summoning legitimate psychology. This has nothing to do with strong characterization – indeed, the characters barely speak – and everything to do with the elemental power of water, fire, wind.… Inferno rescues Giallo by plunging it into seemingly endless visual interludes, a cinema that draws its strength from absence.

by The Chiselers

Daniel Riccuito, David Cairns, Tom Sutpen, and Richard Chetwynd

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svtxsoju · 4 years

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00. prologue | dear miss soju

ღ Synopsis: College is hard. Love is even harder. Good thing the students of Mansae University can write in to Miss Soju, the campus’ very own romance advice columnist! The only problem is she’s never been in a relationship. Ever. There’s no telling what kind of chaos she may cause in the love lives of several of MU’s most eligible bachelors. Too bad no one knows who she really is! ღ Characters/Pairings: college AU! Seventeen & OC’s, Pairings TBA! ღ Genre: Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life ღ Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, mentions of sex, language, bad jokes ღ Word Count: 2.6k words ღ Binu’s Note: hi to anyone who is reading this!!! i’m super excited (and kinda nervous :0) to post this bc i’ve been working on this project for a while now. aaaa i hope there are at least some people who can enjoy it! this is a relatively short-ish chapter but it’s p dense with exposition lol but anyway if ur reading this, thank you i love you!!!

《 ⊛ Author’s Note & Credits ⊛ Masterlist ⊛ Navigation ⊛ 》

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Introducing The Front ’s New Romance Advice Columnist: Miss Soju!

We all have an ideal: an ideal type, an ideal first date, an ideal relationship. The problem is love isn’t ideal at all. And sooner or later, we find ourselves sitting on that plastic chair in that tent on the side of the road with an ache in our chest. You’re hurt, confused, and kind of going crazy-- all the tell-tale symptoms of heartbreak are there. And the only cure? Soju, of course!

Finding a decent partner and maintaining a healthy, sustainable relationship is difficult enough as it is. Then layer it with the culture shock of university, where you’re experiencing actual adulthood for the first time without mommy and daddy to hold your hand. It’s enough to make anyone lose their minds! Sure, you could always turn to your friends for support and advice, but in all honesty, they’re even more of a mess than you are.

That’s why Mansae University’s affiliate newspaper, The Front, will be reviving our romance advice column this fall! Each week, Miss Soju will be answering all your burning questions, and that means all of them. Her expertise touches on topics as simple as explaining to that one guy that your love is fated because you passed each other at Yuhaeng Quad, like three times, and extends to more extreme situations that require an anonymous veil, like how to confess to your new boyfriend with the furry fetish that you’ve been severely allergic to animals since you were three and you have no idea how any animals act, let alone… Yikes.

It’s true, college is full of new and bizarre experiences, some we must go through and some we’d much rather avoid. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet the love of your life here. But it’s okay to admit that you need a little guidance through the mystical and confusing world of college dating. Miss Soju has got your back, and she’s not afraid to hit you with that real shit. As she always says, good advice is like taking a shot: sweet on the lips but burns your throat as you swallow it down.

Monday, June 3rd, 2019 3:07PM

“Jihoon, I don’t know if I can do this.”

Name: So Joohyun. Major: Journalism major with a minor in communications. Estimated graduation year: 2021. Desired position: World News Journalism Intern. That was what she had put on her application for The Front’s junior internship program. She had made sure to attach her published articles and to emphasize her interest in-- no, her passion for-- reporting compelling stories on an international scale. Not once in her application did she indicate that she was an expert in love or sex, let alone qualified to give others advice on the subjects! In fact, she was probably the least qualified person on campus for this position, which was probably the most perplexing aspect of the whole situation.

But despite all of that, there she was, sitting in Yuhaeng Quad with her best friend, reading the promo piece she had written for Miss Soju. Jihoon had been ecstatic when he had thought of the nickname back in high school. She had snuck bottles of the alcohol over to his house one night after finals week, and he had drunkenly claimed that the name was doubly clever since So-ju were also the first two syllables in her name. When the newspaper had told her she needed an anonymous pen name, it was the only thing she could think of, mostly because creating a secret identity had made her in desperate need of a drink. She changed her mind. Having a secret identity was equally as perplexing as pretending to know how to spice up people’s sex lives. It was like she was some kind of Love Spiderman. She was not ready for that kind of great power or the great responsibility that came with it!

“‘I don’t know if I can do this’?” Jihoon repeated her words slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words in that order. Can I take your picture? I need to commemorate this moment.”

“Can’t you see that I am having a crisis?” she whined. “The integrity of my career is on the line because I’ve never bothered to go on a date!”

“When are you not having a crisis?” Jihoon laughed. He sat up from lying down on their picnic tarp to give her full view of his smug grin. Originally, he had dragged Joohyun outside in hopes that the perfect summer weather would help relieve some of her stress from the past week. He even found her favorite spot under the shade of an ancient tree that overlooked the stretch of green field. But Jihoon could not call himself a proper best friend if he passed on an opportunity to rub all of this in her face. “This is what you get for chickening out on all our group blind dates! I could have scored that hot bassist girl with the thigh tattoo, but nooo, you always had to put your career first.”

“Sue me for having priorities!” she huffed. Leave it to Jihoon to chalk this all up to karma. Now that he mentioned it though, she couldn’t help but feel like a higher power was taking a piss on her life. Or maybe it was just the shit-eating smile on Jihoon’s face that had her on edge. Joohyun tried to avert her focus to a couple of boys tossing a frisbee around instead, but somehow that irked her too. The idyllic weather, the carefree students, everything that was pleasant seemed to mock her sour mood. She pouted at the ground in defeat, and continued, “You are the first person to know that if I was told that dating and fucking around were going to be crucial to my journey to becoming South Korea’s top journalist by the time I turn 25, I would have become a hoe long ago.”

“Woah, are you gonna start your thot phase for this? Are we gonna have a hot girl summer?” The boy began to bounce excitedly. Joohyun felt it was high time to give him the finger, but she also felt a small smile tugging at her frown. “Easier said than done, though. Remember Jessi from high school?”

“Yeah I remember,” she said with a sigh. High school romance had lured so many of her friends into its clutches, with its enticing promises of sweet chocolates and stuffed animals, and she had helplessly watched from the top of the class as they forsook their grades for boys who didn’t even know what deodorant was. She only shuddered to think of the state of their grades after a nasty break up. It was then that Joohyun had decided that her future was not worth risking over a boy’s attention. “Which is exactly why I never got involved in all that mess in the first place.”

“This must be the gods telling you that it’s time to.”

“What kind of fucked up god sets up a virgin as a love advice columnist?” she asked the sky loudly. If she had known there was anyone listening, she would have insisted that her question was rhetorical and was not in need of any type of response! However, the gods cared not for grammar technicalities on the mortal plane. They just couldn’t resist the chance to respond to someone so openly questioning their decisions with some good ol’ spite. Honestly, with the way things were going for her lately, Joohyun probably should have expected the frisbee flying merrily towards her face, even if she hadn’t just challenge the universe.

“Oh fuck!” Joohyun jerked out of the way and felt the frisbee thunk against her shoulder instead. “Ow.” At this point, she didn’t even have the capacity to be annoyed; she just braced herself for whatever misfortune life threw at her next.

“Sorry about that!” A boy called out, jogging up to them. As he came into clearer view, she noted that he looked far from misfortunate, and also had to remind herself that staring was rude even if someone was unnaturally handsome. His features were soft yet striking, like he had been carefully sculpted from cotton candy. Or maybe a fluffy rain cloud? Joohyun shook her head a little as if that would get her to stop staring so shamelessly. She speculated whether it was the sun that made it look like his blond hair was a glowing halo. Okay seriously, stop staring! He gave Joohyun a sweet smile when he reached them. “My friend got a bit distracted. Now that I’m here, I can’t say that I blame him. Hope we didn’t do too much damage!”

“Uh,” was her captivating reply.

Jihoon, never one to miss such a ripe opportunity, piped up beside her. “She’ll be fine. This is Joohyun, by the way.”

His smile widened at Woozi’s introduction, and Joohyun could swear there was an actual twinkle in his eyes. “Nice to meet you both. I’m--”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” They all looked towards the call. The ethereal boy let out a startlingly loud cackle at the sight of his friend, who gave the two strangers a sheepish wave before continuing to gesture for Jeonghan to return. Joohyun must have been put in a staring mood, because she didn’t miss how his friend’s big ears were a shade of pink and how they bloomed into a cherry red when they briefly made eye contact. She caught herself wondering if all the boys at Mansae University were always this cute.

“I guess I better go,” the boy named Jeonghan shrugged. Joohyun felt his fingers brush against hers when he took the frisbee from her hand, his eyes glinting mischievously. Now she was sure she was seeing things. “See you two around!”

They both watched him retreat in an awestruck silence. That was certainly… unanticipated. Even long after Jeonghan and his friend were out of sight, the brief encounter left a blanket of fogginess lingering over them. Had she not felt his fingers on hers, Joohyun would have easily believed that it had all been in her head. At the same time, she was pretty sure that she wasn’t bold enough to conjure up someone that looked like that on her own. As she continued to fathom how a human being could glow, Joohyun felt the fog dissipate into the warm summer air. She felt like she was waking up from a disorienting dream, and she blinked to hasten the process. To her growing bewilderment, she found that her heartbeat was steady as she came back to her senses, her mind seemingly devoid of the panic and doubt that had plagued her all week. It was a gasp of fresh air.

Jihoon, on the other hand, had long broken free from the strong impression that the blond boy made. He noted the dazed look on his best friend’s face and rolled his eyes. Who knew that a pretty boy was all it took to make her shut up a bit? He nudged Joohyun impatiently, so that she could pay attention to him while he roasted her for totally flubbing her chances. “You thinking of risking it all for that guy?”

In an instant, Joohyun slammed herself back into reality just to shove Jihoon away from her. “That is so not happening,” she said a little too indignantly. Before Jihoon could reassure her that the guy seemed interested enough even though she had only said a single syllable to him, Joohyun suddenly turned to him very seriously. “Do you really think I can do it, Jihoon?”

“What, bang that guy? I can try calling him back here if you want,” he snickered.

“You know what I mean!”

“Okay sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Jihoon replied, his grin now melting into a familiar smile, the one that could put her at ease on her lowest days. “I just don’t know why you have to ask. You and I both know that you kick ass at writing. You’ve written about stuff like natural disasters and the student protests, no problem at all. It’s not like you have a PhD in environmental science or politics. How is this any different? ”

Joohyun scrunched her face as if Jihoon had just suggested that chocolate milk came from brown cows. “Dude, they’re completely different. Those articles were reporting on facts. I did research, I conducted interviews!”

“That’s what I’m saying, Joo!” Jihoon exclaimed suddenly. As smart as she was, he couldn’t help getting a little giddy whenever he thought of a good idea before her. “Why not treat Miss Soju like any other of your other projects? I mean, love is probably one of the most well-documented experiences throughout history, and people are still going through all the same shit. There’s probably thousands of resources for a man simping on a hot chick alone. You can even take your pick, like movies, songs, books, weird couples on Youtube?You don’t need to have experience, because you can just do the research! ”

“Research?” Joohyun repeated. If there was one thing that she was good at, it was doing the work. From the moment she had decided to become a journalist, everything she had done was a strategic move to get her closer to her end goal. She had spent sleepless nights perfecting the details of her writing, countless hours reading through endless archives of old articles. Hell, she even restricted herself from dating for years just so she could focus on keep her grades up. It was almost too easy of a solution. Maybe she was meant to do this after all.

Another couple of months of research would simply be another hurdle on her way to the finish line and she was getting closer and closer. Finally, she felt a smile spread across her cheeks, a real, genuine smile. “I… I can do that.”

“Now that,” Jihoon said as he took her hand in his, pulling her up to her feet, “sounds like So Joohyun. Or should I say Miss Soju?”

She laughed as she dusted the grass off of her butt. “You know, it’s probably not a good idea to include the first part of my name in my anonymous persona. It makes it so obvious that it’s me.”

“Yeah, I mean it would be obvious if people actually knew who you were in the first place,” Jihoon scoffed, narrowly dodging a kick from her. “That’s a good thing for you! Anyway, let’s get out of here, I have a couple of tweaks to make to my song before releasing it tonight. Could you listen to it by the way? I need to know if it’s too cheesy.”

“Oh, the song you’re writing about your mystery muse?” Joohyun hummed playfully while packing up their blanket. She followed after her best friend as he began the short climb uphill. “I don’t know if I want to, you’ve been pretty out of pocket today.”

“Hey!” he said defensively. “First: I don’t need a muse for my songs, I just have a very vivid imagination and my talent does the rest. Second: I literally just stopped you from giving up on your lifelong dream of becoming a journalist, so I think you owe me one. You’re just jealous I can write love songs without having an existential crisis.”

“See, that is what I mean by out of pocket,” she paused for a beat. “I may be willing to listen to your song. For a small price, of course.”

“Okay, deal,” he agreed without hesitation, missing the way Joohyun deviously smirked beside him. They reached the concrete pavement at top of the hill and headed in the direction of his nearby apartment. “What is it this time, Ms. So?”

“Well Mr. Lee, thanks to your lovely suggestion earlier, I have been inspired to begin work immediately. So we shall be watching Twilight on movie night,” she said all too gleefully, mostly for satisfaction that Jihoon’s twisted face of disgust gave her.

“Do we have to?” he groaned.

“It’s for my research!”

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