#she has certainly been through it lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

In 2020, Tumblr had 29.4 million users in the US.

#she has certainly been through it lol

wraenata · 10 months

Note

Good luck with the wedding!! Hopefully it goes smoothly and the rest of the evening treats you kindly!!

Hehe I showed my bestie this during the reception/ dancing and it made her chuckle :3

Thank you Robin! We are finally free! That was a long 14 hour adventure, I'm going to be tired for the next 7 days oof.

Hey, I even danced to ONE song, so that's something!

But honestly, I think I had the most fun on the half hour drive back to besties place. We jammed out in her jeep XD

Tomorrow morning we will do the Asian Food Market and hopefully I can get some lotus root, and then the Farmers Market.

It was a beautiful wedding and I'm glad to have supported the bride but both bestie and I are so glad to be done with this endeavor. My bestie more so she was a little more antsy. If you read what happened at the Bachelorette party you'd know why lol. Guess what maid of honor lost AGAIN while we were getting ready asdfgjknfdr

Anyway thank you so much Robin I really appreciate it! I hope your weekend treats you wonderfully and all sorts of amazing things happen for you!

#wren askbox #wedding saga finally done #honestly i worry about this marriage though #they were off and on in college and he is not being supportive of her depression #she told me that when she cries and hes just kinda judgemental like why are you crying?! stop #idk i dont like that #plus his side of the family is pentecostal and bride texted me one night asking questions about all their crazy beliefs #cause oh yeah one of grooms family members had one of 'those' cars at the wedding parking oof #i guess groom has expressed interest in going back to church and shes worried it would be back to his families church #big oof #idk bestie is not confident this will last either #I feel bad bride is an incredibly sweet soul and she only deserves happiness #i really hope groom follows through with all his promises in marriage #oh also we pulled out 24 bonny pins from my hair lol #hopefully that was all of them #also wore makeup for the first time not a fan #but i asked for it very light i could barely see any difference but i certainly felt it #hopefully i got it all washed off #all in all im tired but feel like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders

13 notes · View notes

unproduciblesmackdown · 1 year

Text

fascinating lens on taylor's goings on in s6 there re: Romance. epic win that they have rian turn them down but i'm also really not sure why they did. oh you know, rian who's always defined by being so prudent [montage of actually pretty much everything seemingly defining rian has been pretty anti prudent] like ok w/e

but we start out with taylor Particularly Unmotivated By Work and instead watching a The Bachelor beach proposal which involves extasis through this Reality(tm) pastiche of romance. i am assuming. wherein the journey Ends with this transcendent all-consuming joy upon the realization of said Romance for one contestant. then when their somehow still bestie mafee (relevant tangents about how all taylor's relationships seem to involve their having an approach where they have low standards like "well but i guess this is all i can get / expect" including that they can't even necessarily expect shit they like/enjoy/are at all supported by, while readily accepting whatever blame/reproach from others) is like "gee but are you really happy" they're apparently inspired to pursue happiness by pursuing romance. which they seem to consider is possible only through rian, intriguing here when the entire basis of their dynamic seems to be [trapped in work hell together] like boy we have nothing outside our jobs? i sure hope we can be Everything to each other then :) and how it's even more baffling that rian is completely unbaffled by this development when you might operate on some assumptions like "you should have ever seemed to enjoy any interactions you've ever had" to consider choosing more vulnerability and more time / effort spent on this relationship, and "you also don't need to have Found Fault with someone / otherwise have some grievances or dislike of them to not want to date them" especially if rian's apparent sense of responsibility for taylor's theoretical negative feelings about rejection supposedly doesn't involve thinking about any power dynamics, she just feels the need to repeatedly reassure them she'd actually Love to date or have sex but she's just so set on not dating through work, b/c of the complications, that she's never considered not having casual sex with bosses and also never mentioned this stance to turn down winston nor done anything but revel in how he might feel about even being rejected as a conversational partner. too prudent to mention it. certainly also a relevant matter that it Need Not Be Explained to anyone that winston for one is excluded as a potential Romantic partner for pretty much everyone i guess. whilest as this potential mirror to taylor, he's not only considering specifically rian w/"we're similar; let's hang out; i'd like to have sex maybe even" (though winston's sexuality, like his communicative capacities, is also simply Not Allowed) but also seems to be like "i guess this is all i can get / expect" or hanging on for a long time to the possibility of Otherwise at his own expense or taking blame / whatever pretty egregious treatment like. taylor being willing to talk to wendy still is akin to winston still being willing to talk to rian. though maybe that's changed by the end of s6; it'd be very warranted after the pretty make or break [rian & winston Share An Interest; hang out outside work about it] moment there and also after Everything Else on its own, just like how it'd be very warranted if taylor expecting Nothing Better from wendy could turn into their hardly being willing to interact

anyways, sure is fortunate for taylor (or is it???) that Work becomes more enriching for them suddenly, and through someone with whom they have this promising personal dynamic with, a Peer with whom, in fact, they do both seem to find reward in interacting with each other / want and choose to do so, imagine, while [reiterating for emphasis]: they are both finding reward in interacting and feeling Complementary rather than only seeing exactly themself in each other, while having this respect for each other and flexibility and knowing they don't Have to work together, and may not always be doing so.

but most to the point it sure is something that the season starts off with taylor being dissatisfied with their work situation and responding by not being at work and instead watching people be overjoyed about their (also, relevantly, Peak Normal Correct Cishet) romance, though they don't outright claim to straightforwardly enjoy this. then they Do outright claim to us repeatedly, if ever begrudgingly, that everything rian does is worthy &/or sympathetic (and totally comprehensible and consistent so as to believably retain any sense of Character....) while every time they interact, it's a business meeting and one or both of them is unhappy about some part of it. but then once taylor's asked to think about their happiness Beyond Work they apparently are simply motivated to go ask someone out, and it may as well be rian For Lack Of A Better Option really, but then there's the wrench of "for some reason rian is unsurprised and not at all put off by this, or even just somewhat confused" and "for some reason rian's like 'sorry but no. fr im soooo sorry'" with these perspectives of [happiness Outside Work = romance] and [someone deemed Objectively Worthy = you'd of course at least consider romance, or else you must think actually they're Unworthy in some way, or have some more general Reason you'd reject others categorically in just the same way] (rian rejecting winston for unworthiness so much that she doesn't even need to bother actually telling him as much; rejecting taylor for [i don't date through work] with followups to reassure them it's Not the unworthiness) (that on and off paper winston & taylor have no reason to not be kissing but i think we can assume that won't happen, b/c billions itself may also assume we understand that [winston is unworthy] is just true. &/or that anyone Worthy understands as much)

so hoping that taylor has Some kind of enriching lasting relationship with philip, truly, which was the hopes for winston and rian but the updated hope is his enriching lasting disengagement with rian, f

#winston billions #AND rian having some of the worst material re: sex billions has ever inflicted upon us. impressive. sorry to this character #(and like.................has she Not prior had casual sex through work while she's been willing to do so / hasn't had nights & weekends??)#that makes no sense either. it's for winston's sake i'm glad she hasn't tried to be fwb there #wouldn't it be fun if we got s7 genderfluid rian. but we won't. fr it's like....why'd we get this character at all lmao #would've made more sense if she left at the end of s6 too. while the best thing we've gotten is taylor getting to further distinguish #themself from axe in of course good ways. the associated [philip seems so much more like A Character than rian despite also being new]#difficult to work in ''rian would be abusive towards winston if they were dating b/c she Already Is as (sometimes) work friends'' when #another issue is that rian's material isn't really being Examined when every character can only remark abt how cool & correct she always is #ultimately; at least....taylor you caaan't actually be mad at rian; gotta be some Other issue you're having bad feelings about....#that winston being introduced so peripherally it was meant to be a oneoff & while (as viewed by other characters) being Incorrect and #Unsympathetic has created the conditions for someone who does end up w/this stronger sense of Being A Character #he's even autistic....while rian is adhd and hostile like ''at least i'm allistic and meritous''#like yes i Will talk to you more than others maybe but offscreen & i Will also be bullying you b/c i am willing to and i certainly can.#dunno what to say about winston and tuk b/c we've still seen so relatively little & idk what we'll get for winston in s7 #that it's will's updated foul play website bio that Confirms he'll be in s7 at all; but i'm still not supposing he'll def get more than an #episode or two or w/e. or i suppose he could be sent off & return; they're still in production mode over there after all #i would really doubt canon would give us that romance but it would be....i dunno. earthshaking really lol haven't given it the most thought #canon might also think that would be insulting to tuk or something....#or say As Much w/that continual threat of ''improving'' winston by making him Choose to be more normal now (:#everyone's always giving him the organic aba (abuse) either way but umm the Least you could do would be absorb it & Stop Bringing It Upon #Yourself....still supposing it's possible that their being Friends is considered to be dragging tuk back / dooming him to Loserdom #but as or more likely: he got to talk to tuk in the last ep to get him out of the way. it will never get focus #oh i went off track up there: finishing the thought to say i suppose it's assumed rian would not be shitty towards taylor like she would be #towards winston b/c they're Worthier; not supposedly inferior to her even as winston is considered to be #hence that rian Can give winston shit whenever she wants but just so happens to Not be that way towards anyone else. makes you think #mfw i run out of room writing on one page abt cam stone like ''i could've been more clearly relationship anarchist with it :(''

2 notes · View notes

too-much-tma-stuff · 2 months

Text

Finally Getting Help (pt 3)

first | last | Masterpost | Next

What Tim and Bruce found was completely ridiculous. It really wasn’t hard to find the Doctors Fenton’s website but it was ridiculous! It was outdated and gaudy with animations of cartoony ghosts everywhere. If it hadn’t been for how clear Danny was about his parents' names Tim would have skipped right over it. But when he got past the terrible website design and started reading it his stomach just dropped lower and lower.

The writing was clean and scientific though it couldn’t disguise the malicious delight they took in tearing the creatures they called ‘ghosts’ apart. Whatever these ghosts really were Danny had been internalizing this attitude about Himself for years! They also bragged about their weapons and their government contract. So whether that was true or not Danny hadn’t been lying or delusional, it was his parents. And regardless of what these ghosts actually were it was obvious they were supernatural so RR sent a link to the website to Zatana.

(link)

RR: What do you think?

Tana: Lol is this a joke?

RR: I wish, I know it looks like one but no, this is deadly serious.

Tana: Hang on

Red Robin put down his phone to give Zatana the time to read over the site and looked more into Maddy and Jack Fenton while she did. He found their graduation certificates, and pictures of them in college with what must have been a much younger Vlad. So they were actually doctors of some sort, they had their doctorate, though that didn’t exactly make it any less likely they had gone fully off the rails now.

His phone dinged and he picked it up to see one short message from Zatana.

Tana: I’m coming to the cave.

Tim sighed and put his phone back down, spinning his chair to face B who was hunched over the computer typing furiously. “Zatana is on her way, I asked for her opinion of the Fenton’s research and she must think it’s big.” He said as he dug out a domino mask.

“Hm,” B sounded and went to get his cowl. “Report?”

“The Doctors Fenton are doctors, they got their doctorates though I don’t know in what yet. They’ve been friends with Vlad since university and they certainly at least think they’re studying ghosts. Their website has articles on behaviours and biology, and how to hunt and hurt ghosts. They brag about a government contract.” Tim summarized. “You?”

“The Ghost Investigation Ward does exist and they are a government agency but they only seem to be active in the town of Amity Park and they’re so inept! It wasn’t hard to hack them, they’re trying to sound mysterious and a little dangerous talking about protecting humanity from invasions from other worlds but I don’t think they’re actually that competent,” Batman said with a scowl.

“The only reason we didn’t know about this was because we weren’t looking! And it’s possible Danny is right and they were jamming calls from Amity to the JL, but I have a terrible feeling what actually happened if that the call came through and someone heard them talking about ghosts and rogue government agencies, assumed it was a prank and blocked them,” Bruce said massaging his temples.

“Ah,” Tim said, his heart dropping at how plausible that sounded. Could they have saved Danny before, if they had taken that call seriously.

“And Vlad is the mayor of his town, there are articles about Danny fighting him in public. It seems like everyone knew their relationship was antagonistic at best and No One defended him. The GIW also listed him in their special thanks for helping fund them. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been using them as a tool to threaten and control Danny.” Batman said with cold fury. Tim took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

“We weren’t able to protect him, but we will avenge him. And we’ll keep him safe Now,” Tim reminded his father. Privately thinking that as soon as he could he was going to tell Jason about this so they could Really make sure Vlad never came near Danny again. An arrest just wasn’t strong enough for a man like that. He wasn’t going to tell Bruce that though, obviously.

The sound of the Zeta tube interrupted their moment as Zatana arrived, looking slightly more ruffled then she usually did. She must have really rushed here, which was a bit worrying.

“Zatana,” Batman greeted.

“Hello Batman, before we talk I need to check your wards.” She said already walking past them.

“Hm,” Batman sounded, making RR smile a little, how Batman made that sound mean so many different things always sort of amazed him.

“I need to check the ones on your home too. And I’d like to meet the boy you have under your care,” She said briskly.

“How did you know about the boy?” Batman asked gruffly.

“Lucky guess,” she said briskly, her hands glowed as she walked around the cave, making seemingly random gestures as if touching or pulling on invisible threads. None of the bats really understood magic so they left her to it. When she was done they let her up into the manner, she knew their identities already after all and she checked all the wards on the home very thoroughly, occasionally casting spells to reinforce them. They collected Dick and Damian trailing after them curiously as they went as well.

“Alright, can I meet the boy now?” She asked, turning towards Bruce who crossed his arms and puffed out his chest a bit.

“Not till you explain to us what’s going on,” He growled and Zatana looked over the curious stubborn faces surrounding her and sighed.

“Fine,” she allowed, resigned. She rubbed her temples as she looked around for a chair and sunk down into it. “So what the Fentons seem to be referring to as Ghosts are actually denizens of the Infinite Realms, the space in between every world and afterlife. Some of the beings there were once people who died but many aren’t. They’re also known to be very powerful and quite violent though thankfully not particularly interested in the living. The fact that the Government is apparently messing with something like this is very bad news.

“Constantine and I have been keeping half an eye on the situation in Amity Park but they had their own pair of Heroes, Phantom and Red Huntress, who seemed to have the situation well under control so we weren’t all that worried about it. We weren’t tracking the more human elements of the GIW and the Fentons,” She bit her lip and thought for a moment.

“When Tim sent me that website and I was made aware of those, that changed things. What’s worse is the photo the Fentons’ have of their family. Their son… we knew Phantom looked young but ghosts often stay at a younger age than they really are, with how powerful he was we assumed he was Old. But he looks exactly like the Fenton’s son. Did they not notice he was dead or…” She looked around at their faces, apparently getting her answer from their expressions.

“There have been rumours for a long time about a very rare and powerful sort of living dead, humans soaked in the pure energy of the infinite realms resulting in a still living ancient. It’s so rare that people usually think it’s a fairy tale but with the work Phantom’s parents do it makes a sick sort of sense. And what it means is that that boy you have stashed away is basically a baby God and we all have to be very careful.”

There was a heavy silence as they all processed what she was saying. “Are you… sure?” Tim asked, uncertainly.

“I won’t be till I meet him, but I’m as sure as I can be without that at the moment,” she said firmly.

Tim sighed and pulled out his phone. “Cas is with him, I’ll text her to see if she’s up to meeting you. If he’s that powerful we don’t want to push him right?” He asked as he typed out a text to Cas.

“Yes. Like I said he’s been acting as a hero in Amity, he seems like a good kid but I have no doubt in my mind if he’s pushed too far we could have a truly apocalyptic situation on our hands,” She said which made Tim swallow thickly.

His phone dinged and he checked it. “Danny is willing to meet you but he’s really tired so go easy on him and don’t stay long,” Tim relayed her message.

“Alright that’s fine, thank you. Show me the way please,” She requested.

Bruce took over, leaving the way. “We don’t want to overwhelm him, I think only I and Zatana should go in, with Cas still there since he seems to feel safe with her,” Bruce informed his children.

“Alright, just tell us everything soon!” Dick demanded and Bruce’s lips twitched up in just the suggestion of a smile as he nodded to them.

He took off his cowl, he wasn’t in his full uniform anyway and he didn’t want to scare Danny. Besides if he had been a hero even if he clocked Bruce he would understand.

“Hello Danny, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Zatana,” She introduced herself s she followed Bruce in. She would have offered her hand to shake but Danny was half hiding behind Cas sitting on the bed.

“It’s nice to meet you too. What’s with the outfit?” He asked curiously which made her laugh.

“I’m a hero, one of the less known ones. I’m part of Justice League Dark which is their supernatural division along with Constantine and Deadman and a few others. He’s a ghost, but I assure you the government hasn’t been giving him any trouble, probably because they knew they wouldn’t get away with it.”

“So I’m just lucky then,” Danny said with a bitter curl to his lips.

“As a hero, I want to ask, are you Phantom?” She asked rather bluntly.

Bruce shivered as the temperature in the room suddenly dropped a few degrees and Danny’s eyes started to swirl with green as he glared at Zatana who managed to barely react. Batman noticed how her back tensed a bit but it was barely there. “You know?” Danny demanded. “You knew about what was going on in Amity and you didn’t help?!”

“I’m very sorry Danny,” She said genuinely. “We knew something was going on, but we didn’t look closely enough. We thought that you were an older ghost just of someone who died young because of your strength, and it looked like things were under control. Normally our involvement wouldn’t have been appreciated, intruding on someone’s haunt, so we didn’t look any closer. I am so sorry we overlooked you but we’re going to make up for it now I promise.

“I’ve checked and reinforced the wards on the house so nothing should be able to come in uninvited, and I’m going to contact the rest of the JLD. We’re going to go to Amity, we’ll figure this out and deal with it I promise.”

The temperature in the room slowly went back up, Danny was still upset, but he didn’t seem like he was about to snap anymore. While Zatana had been talking Cas had started gently rubbing Danny’s back and that seemed to be helping too. After a moment Danny looked up again and nodded, accepting the help.

“The veil must be very thin there, to let so many ghosts through?” Zatana probed gently.

“It is, but more than that two years ago my parents succeeded in building a portal to what they call the Ghost Zone. This kinda green world of floating islands.

“A portal,” Zatana said flatly, blinking rapidly. “To the Infinite Realms?”

“Ah is that what it’s really called? Ya probably? That’s how everyone’s been getting through. How I got my powers too, the ghosts call me a halfa, but I’m not the only one. Vlad’s one too.”

Batman heard Zatana mutter “Two?” softly, baffled and alarmed but she nodded. Bruce filed that information away too, it seemed Vlad was even more of a threat then he’d first appeared to be.

“Alright, I’ll get as many of the JLD together as I can and we’ll head to Amity. We’ll shut down the portal and deal with this.” She said determinedly.

From the look on Danny’s face he didn’t really believe her, but he nodded again and leaned against Cas. “Good luck I suppose,” he muttered and sighed, rubbing his face.

“Just… tell me if you get in over your heads okay, I’m used to dealing with all this stuff.” God he sounded so tired, the poor kid.

“I will, but don’t worry about us, just take care of yourself okay? This is a good place to be, I promise you won’t have to be alone anymore.” Zatana assured him. She probably had more questions, but it was very obvious that Danny was getting tired.

“Bruce is good dad,” Cas chimed in, speaking up for the first time. It embarrassed Bruce a little but he smiled at them and nodded a little.

“Thank you,” Danny said, his shoulder slumped and his back curled. “Can I go to bed now?”

“Of course Chum,” Bruce agreed, starting to shoo Zatana out of the bedroom with Cas on their heels. When they closed the door behind them Bruce heard the lock click quietly closed behind them. He really hoped that Danny would feel safe enough to sleep well.

@zlinen @sebas-nights @littlefeather345 @isnt-that-grape @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @shadowkatt99 @fantasticstoryteller @blackshuckatdusk @blacksea21090 @sithlordchimchnga @fanfictionforme2 @imalittlefangirl25 @bushbees @yotsubaayase @thomasdimensor @ultimatebluff

#red robin #danny phantom #dp x dc #batman #bruce wayne #fanfiction #tim drake #zatana #cassandra cain #the fentons are bad parents #Vlad is a creep #misunderstanding #danny is pregnant au #mama danny #bad parents jack and maddie

2K notes · View notes

wintaerbaer · 5 months

Text

seven storms (jjk) (m)

summary: As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: forbidden love, angst, a bit of fluff, also a bit of smut

word count: 9.0k

warnings: ambiguous time periods, oc’s mom passed away when she was a child, parental strain and turbulent relationships, it’s not explicitly stated but bang sihyuk is oc’s dad, find the ‘seven’ reference, BRIEF SMUT (in the form of missionary, cowgirl, and implied unprotected, which you should not do)

a/n: this one is for the obs discord server, who came up with this plot and then flattered me until i agreed to write it lol

MASTERLIST // Read on ao3

It begins with a clap of thunder.

The dark clouds had rolled in quickly during your morning ride, the rain holding off on its looming descent even as the wind picks up and throws strands of hair across your face. You try to cling to every minute you have left before the downpour, savoring your alone time and the peaceful quiet of the morning. It may even be worth getting a little wet, you think as you watch the new stable hand effortlessly sling a bay of hale over his shoulder, for the chance to savor every moment of your daily ritual before the weather inevitably forces you back inside.

You love the simple pleasures of fresh air and the soft rustle of the grass.

Jungkook glances at you from afar as he continues his work, and even at this range, you can see his muscles shifting under the fabric of his shirt. It’s been roughly a month since your father hired him to tend the stable on your family’s estate, and while he hasn’t been unpleasant, giving you a friendly but silent nod each day as you prepare for your ride, he’s mostly kept his distance.

Today, however, is a different story entirely as a boom sounds out above your head. Your horse, a young stallion named Bam who is still being broken, startles at the noise and begins to nervously pace, tamping down the dirt under his hooves. The reins wrap tighter around your fingers as you attempt to take firmer control, but when a second crack emanates through the sky, the horse begins to buck in an attempt to throw you off.

The laws of physics cease to exist, time simultaneously speeding up and slowing down as you work to maintain your balance, clenching your muscles around the horse's back. A particularly violent whip of his head rips the reins free, and all you can do is try to flatten yourself to his back and hold on for dear life.

A pair of unfamiliar hands shoots into your peripheral vision, stroking firmly at the stallion's head and neck until he's easing back down, his erratic motions steadying until you can safely sit back up and face your rescuer.

"Are you alright?" His eyes scan your body for injury, moving from your face all the way down to your toes and back up.

You use the time to perform your own appraisal. The first thing you notice is that while he had immediately struck you as handsome when you first saw him around the property, he’s even more attractive up close: all soft eyes, perfect lips, and a tiny scar on his cheek that only adds to his allure. Add to that strong arms, broad shoulders, and a section of clearly-chiseled chest peeking out of his shirt, and you have to admit to yourself that you’re already halfway gone.

“Y/N?” His eyebrows dip as he frowns, clearly suspecting some kind of head injury as a result of your silence.

“You know my name.”

His expression turns quizzical at your bizarre answer. “I work for you. Of course I know your name.”

“You work for my father.”

“And you by extension.”

Your spine stiffens with rebellion. “I have no interest in bossing men around.”

“Why not?” He taps his knuckles on the saddle. “I see you come out to ride every morning. I could certainly tack up a horse for you in advance.”

“Because I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

His perfect lips curl at the edges. “I don’t doubt that.”

Your heart stutters a rhythm behind your ribcage, voice muted by the appearance of a dimple that dips into his left cheek. It’s not often you find yourself speechless, and the sheer unfamiliarity of it has you on the brink of a flight response; you begin to gently guide your horse back towards the stable, Jungkook walking at your side. To your surprise, he doesn’t stay quiet.

“So how long have you been riding?”

You peek down at him, but he’s not looking at you as he scratches the stallion under his muzzle. “Since I was five,” you say. “My father arranged for private instruction after my mother died. Thought I could use the distraction.”

You figured he already knew about your mother’s passing due to her absence from the estate, and his unfazed expression seems to confirm as much. Still, in a gentle voice he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t make her sick.” Another low rumble echoes through the sky, but Jungkook is prepared, already smoothing his hand over the Bam’s neck again. “What about you? How long have you worked with horses?”

He chuckles, and your belly warms. “Since before I could walk. I grew up on a ranch. Have probably spent more time around horses than people—not that I’m complaining.” A shrug pulls his shirt tight across his bulging shoulders. “Animals are better company, in my opinion.”

“You say while striking up conversation with a stranger.”

Pink blooms on his cheeks, but, to his credit, he recovers quickly. “Beautiful women are the exception.”

Heat rises to your own face, and you choose to ignore his comment as much as it has butterflies taking off behind your bellybutton. “I understand what you mean though. That’s why I’m out here every day.”

“You like the outdoors?”

“Very much,” you say. “The smell of the wind, the feeling of the sunshine on my skin and the earth under my shoes. I like to ride down to the sunflower fields and watch how they turn themselves towards the light. There’s a strange sense of kinship there.” You’re not sure what drives you to share all this with a man you’ve just met, but the way he nods along as if he agrees sets your heart at ease. “And the horses are, in fact, good company.”

He laughs again, tipping his head back to look at you. His dark hair brushes his forehead, jaw cutting so sharp a line that the temptation immediately hits to trace it with either your fingers or lips—you’re not sure which. You don’t even care if you’ll bleed.

It strikes you at that moment that you’re in a world of trouble.

The skies open up, the rain instantly pouring down in fat drops as you briskly rush your horse the rest of the way into the stable, Jungkook hot on your heels. You dismount once you’re inside and begin to untack the stallion, moving the reins up and over so you can remove the bridle first. Jungkook quickly steps in to help unhitch the saddle, and while you’d normally be inclined to make a fuss about how you can handle your own gear, you find that you much enjoy his quiet companionship. You like watching the way his gentle hands artfully work to simultaneously manage the equipment and relax the horse, giving the sense that he’s offering assistance only because he loves his work and not to patronize you as a woman (you’ve seen one too many men try to step in because they believe you to be incompetent).

Once Bam has been settled into his stall, you turn back to your companion and are met with big brown eyes already gazing at you, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Thank you for your help today,” you say. “I may be an experienced rider, but that also means I know enough to understand that you likely saved me from an injury earlier. So thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He looks suddenly subdued, nervous now without the horse as a buffer. “And if I may be forward, I hope I made a good first impression. I wouldn’t want a beautiful woman like yourself to think I overstepped.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned beautiful women now. You speak with them a lot?”

“Not recently,” he says, dimple making another appearance. “Only one.” His voice drops a decibel, flirtation giving way to sincerity. “But truly, I do just like to help. I am sure you are perfectly capable, but just because we can do something doesn’t mean we always need to do it alone. If I can help ease a burden, then I would like to do so.”

Warmth floods through you like the rain currently running off the roof, and before you can even think about it any further, you find yourself nodding. “Very well.”

The smile he gives you brightens your day more than a hundred miles of sunflower fields ever could.

“I won’t keep you then.” He begins walking backwards towards the troughs where most of the horses have currently congregated. “But I do very much look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

You do, too. And when you show up to the stable the next morning (and the next, and the next), you already have a horse saddled up for you, a single sunflower resting on the seat.

Raindrops clatter in endless sheets off the metal roof of the stable, the ringing sound blending with the blasts of thunder and lightning overhead to mask your groans as Jungkook steadily thrusts into you.

It’s been three months since your flirtation culminated in you asking him to join you for a ride one morning.

Three months since he accompanied you down to the sunflower fields, pulled you into their depths, and kissed you like his life depended on it.

Three months since the rain became your closest friend, providing you the cover you need for your more intimate moments—such as this evening when you’d arrived at the stables to find him laying down a fresh layer of straw, the flex of his arm insisting that you needed him now.

The patter of the rain ensures his moans are for your ears and your ears alone.

“Do you think the horses mind?” he mumbles into the sensitive skin of your neck as he presses even deeper into you and steals your breath, his hands cupping your ass as he grinds his hips.

“I doubt it,” you gasp, digging your nails into his back. “They’ve kept secrets for me before.”

He laughs, and you relish in the feel of the vibration of his chest pressed to yours, as if the sound is being passed directly from his lungs to your heart. “Am I your secret then?”

“My favorite secret.”

He pulls back to look at you then with wide eyes. You don’t know when it happened, when he became the absolute center of your universe, but you also know that you’ve never been this happy in your life, never felt as whole as you do with him. So you stare at him right back, absorb every angle of his face as he brushes the hair away from your eyes and kisses you with an unusual delicacy in comparison to the rough pace of his hips.

“I love you.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it, but your blood heats as if the words are brand new.

He rises up above you then, leans back so he can bend your knees to your chest and pound into you in earnest, and you’d swear the roof has disappeared and you can see every star in the sky. Galaxies swirl, planets align, and it’s not long before you’re falling over the edge and he’s following you with a deep groan—a harmony to the thunder that surrounds you.

The two of you collapse into a heap, and he pulls you into his side, your cheek pressed to his still-heaving chest. It’s serene, the consonance of his breathing alongside the tapping of the rain and the occasional snuffle from the horses.

“So, the horses are keeping secrets for you, huh?” It’s a quiet question, vulnerable as he gazes at you with tender devotion. The same stars you saw minutes ago twirl in his eyes. “Can I be told one?”

“Are you a horse?”

A breath of a laugh: “Well you’ve certainly ridden me before.”

He has a point there.

You hum to yourself as you think before asking, “What is your dream?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.”

Calloused fingers trace patterns on your hip, a faraway look taking over his expression as he envisions some distant future. “To own my own farm,” he says. “I want to be my own boss. No more having to serve others.” A smile dances at the corners of his mouth. “And I’d be able to provide for my family—have a few kids and teach them the ropes, just like my dad did with me.”

Your brow dips in confusion. “You won’t inherit your father’s farm?”

“No, it’ll go to my older brother.” He squeezes your hip on a sigh. “If I want my own farm, it’s up to me to earn it.”

“You’ll do it,” you say, and you believe it with every fiber of your heart. “I know you will. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met.”

It’s not a lie by any stretch. You’ve spent plenty an afternoon telling your father that you’re going to read out on the veranda as it gives you an inconspicuous way to watch Jungkook work. He’s diligent, tireless, and you’ve often used the need to bring him water as an excuse to go down and spend time with him, seeing the sweat drip off his forehead as he single-handedly trains and cares for the horses.

His eyes become glassy, a gruff clearing of his throat as he pushes the tears back and grazes his lips over yours in a gentle kiss instead. “Thank you.” But before you can deepen the kiss and distract him, he shifts ever so slightly away, a glint in his eye. “Now you.”

You puff a sigh into his chest—bold of you to think you’d be able to sneak one past such an observant stare. Still, your secrets don’t usually come forth easily, buried deep within the cavity of your ribcage so even you don’t have to dwell on them too long.

Something about those doe eyes, though, render you ever vulnerable.

“Mine is similar to yours. I want to be my own boss.”

His brows pull together. “No one would expect a lady like you to work.”

“Not for a job, for my life,” you say, irritation forcing the words from your lips now. “I don’t want my father to dictate the path my life takes. I want to choose it, whatever it is, for myself. To be in charge of my own fate.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, teeth dipping into his lower lip as he considers your words. It’s something else you’ve grown to love about him, the way he stops and thinks before he reacts. So unlike your father who has always been nothing but big emotions and snap judgments.

“What would you choose?” is the question he eventually comes out with, and the pads of his fingers trace the jut of your hipbone like he’s memorizing it.

Well that’s another matter entirely. “I don’t know. Just not what my father wants for me.”

“And what would that be?”

“To marry one of the rich dandies in town,” you blurt, and his hands still. “That’s always been the expectation that’s been set since I was a girl—that my family would arrange a suitable match for me.” You’re practically spitting now, anger simmering through you. “Suitable, of course, meaning wealthy.”

“Is that so bad?” He asks it quietly, insecurity poorly masked in the way his voice trembles ever so slightly. “Some people would do almost anything to be in your position.”

You scoff. “There’s more to life than money.”

“Like what?”

“Fresh air, sunshine, the smell of the morning dew.” You tap his chest with everything you list off, as if they’re all housed within the framework of his torso. “The sound of the rain bouncing off windows, the bright yellow of sunflowers after their first bloom, watching a foal get its legs under it for the first time. Love.” You press your hand to his heart with that one, feeling the strong beat of it under your palm. “That’s the greatest thing.”

He snags your fingers, bringing them to his lips and kissing each one in succession before his hand slips into your hair so he can join his mouth with yours. The kiss is slow, thorough, his tongue trailing along your lower lip with determination as he drags you across his body until you’re straddling him.

“You’re right about that,” he murmurs before gripping your waist tightly so he can push back into you, the rain pouring on and on.

“No!”

Your father stands up so suddenly that his chair topples over with a crash, Jungkook sitting across from him wearing a look of even-keeled surprise; his eyes widen a fraction, but his overall posture remains resolved and confident.

“You dare have the audacity to even ask—“ He chokes on his words, spit flying from the edges of his lips, before pointing a finger towards where you stand stunned in the corner. “And you! You’ve been fraternizing with this riffraff? After everything I’ve taught you? Everything I did to raise you? You go and choose to associate with this—this—“ You’re worried his eyes might fall out of his head with the way they bulge as he grasps for a word, vein in his neck visibly thumping as he finds it. “Lowlife!”

“You’re wrong!” you scream as Jungkook continues to sit quietly at the dinner table. You’ll be damned if you’d just stand by and allow him to be spoken about in that way. “He’s an incredible man. He works hard, he’s respectful, and he loves me, Father. Not because of my money, but because I’m me.” Your steps echo off of the tall, looming arches of the ceiling as you move closer to Jungkook. “And I love him.”

“No, no, absolutely not. You’re only twenty years old. You don’t even know what love is,” your father barks before turning his beady eyes on Jungkook again. “You’ll never marry my daughter. You do not have my permission nor my blessing. That’s final.”

“Father—“

“You’re also fired,” he spits. “You can say goodbye and that’s the end of it. I want you off my property.” Then he’s storming out of the dining room, leaving you and Jungkook in heavy silence.

It’s only a handful of seconds before Jungkook is rising to his feet and striding from the room and out the front door, you hot on his heels. The steady drizzle soaks your clothes in a matter of moments, but you don’t even feel the way they cling to your skin, focused solely on the man in front of you.

“Jungkook!” you call, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t turn to face you until you manage to grab ahold of his hand and tug.

You thought he’d be distressed, angry, perhaps even crying. Instead, you’re met with intensity, a fierce determination simmering under the warm brown of his irises as his gaze bores into yours and almost has you faltering.

“Jungkook, I…” You wring your hands in front of you, watch the rain run in rivulets off the ends of his hair. “We can make it through this. I can convince him—“

“You can’t.”

You huff in frustration. “Then we’ll run away together! I’ll come with you and we’ll—“

“No, Y/N.” He stills the frantic movements of your hands with his own, drawing you towards the warmth of his body until you’re nearly chest-to-chest. “I have no savings right now, no way to support the two of us. We’d be out on the street in a matter of days.” He shakes his head, brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “No. You need to stay here for now. But this isn’t the end of us, I swear to you. I am going to work myself to the bone—until I have nothing left to give. Until I can buy my own farm, my own house, and give you everything you need.” Your foreheads press together, drops of water clinging to his lips and drawing your eye as he speaks. “I will provide for you someday, love you to the best of my ability. Just give me time.”

The heavens open above you, the relentless downpour backed by the cacophony of the skies as you finally move to kiss him. He tastes of rainwater and sweat, the fragrant aroma of sunflowers and nights spent tangled together in the stables. You savor the feel of his lips against yours, commit to memory the way his tongue begs for entrance, the way you grant it with a groan that feels like both a prayer and a curse.

With a final, resounding crack, he’s pulling away as you cling to the rough skin of his fingertips until the very last fraction of a second, arms stretched to their absolute limit. And when he turns his back on you, shirt plastered to his skin, you’d swear you can hear the horses raging in the stable, the rumble of hooves and agitated whinnies ringing in your ears long after he’s disappeared from view.

The first letter comes on a Wednesday roughly six week later, written on carefully folded parchment paper in small, neat handwriting. It surprises you, coming from a man who spends all day tending horses and tossing around hay bales. You receive the letter from the carrier quietly, rushing it up to your room and waiting to read until the concealment of night has fallen and you’re confident your father has gone to bed.

My Love,

I must admit that I am not quite sure how long it has been since I last saw you. Perhaps only a handful of weeks, surely, but every hour, minute, and second has felt like an eternity. I miss you, sweetheart. I miss the sound of your laugh. I miss the way you’d look each morning, strolling down from the house with a bounce in your step and the early sunshine bouncing off of your hair. Or perhaps you are just that radiant. I would believe it, you know, that light emits from your very smile, and I know I feel warmer whenever I am around you.

Look at me; look at the man you've turned me into. I've always considered myself a simple being, glad to indulge in the dirt and physical labors of the outdoors, and yet you have me waxing poetic like one of the men in those romance novels you would always pretend to read on the veranda. (Yes, my dear, I noticed. Your stares are not so subtle.) I am lovesick, homesick, and it’s all because of you. Because my life truly began the day I looked up and saw Bam struggling with you on his back and just knew I had to help you (tell that dear beast that I miss him by the way).

Now, I must live my life forlorn, but not without purpose. Please know that I am doing everything in my power to get back to you, and I will not rest until I am holding you in my arms again. I have secured a job at a ranch several towns over; it’s good work with decent pay, and every cent that does not go towards the barest necessities is being saved for us. One day, my love. One day we will have a house and a farm, and I will be able to love you openly, with no need for secrets or the cover of rain.

In the meantime, just know how terribly I miss you, and though we are separated by distance, I hold you in my heart each day. On my way each morning from my lodgings to the ranch, I pass by a field of sunflowers. I know it cannot possibly be true, but it feels like every golden face turns towards me as I go, and darling, I’d swear I see you in every one.

One day, my love.

Until then, always yours,

J.K.

It becomes something of a ritual: while you used to spend your days out on the veranda pretending to read so that you could watch Jungkook from afar, you now settle on the front porch with a book each afternoon in the hopes of catching the local mail carrier. Jungkook’s letters come slowly but consistently every couple of weeks, and each time a letter does arrive, you spend the night drafting your own by candlelight to send back to him.

He tells you about his new job, how he’s working on a larger farm now with several other laborers. The veterans are kind to him and teaching him a lot, he says, and it eases the ache in your heart a fraction to know that he seems happy where he is and well taken care of. You write back about your favorite books that you’ve been reading and how the horses have been (you insist that you can tell Bam misses Jungkook too). But both of your letters are saturated with sentiments of love and how dearly you miss each other, reminding yourselves that every day that passes is one day closer to you two being reunited, whenever that may be.

Your father, meanwhile, proceeds as if Jungkook never existed, hiring a new stable hand who begins his work mere days after Jungkook has left. This man is middle aged, gray already streaking through his hair, and you can’t help but feel it’s a deliberate choice on your father’s part lest you fall for another lowly laborer. And though you know it is not his fault, you barely speak with the man outside of a few curt pleasantries when you go for your ride each morning.

You persist in your morning rides out of habit, but you find that they don’t bring you the same kind of joy that they used to. The grass isn’t quite as green, the air is often stifling, and the sunflowers droop where they used to stand tall against the blue skies. On one day, roughly six months after Jungkook’s firing, you’re once again forced back inside early due to rain, the storm dampening your already dreary mood. It takes a turn for the worst when you hear your father call your name the moment you step in the door and plummets entirely off a cliff when you trudge into the dining room to see a man sitting at the table.

Seokjin is not entirely unfamiliar to you—your families run in the same circles after all—but he is ultimately little more than a stranger, the two of you having only exchanged a handful of polite words at dinner parties and the like. All that you truly know of him is that he is the heir to the wealthiest trading company on this side of the country and that his father is expected to transition the entire operation to him over the next few years.

Even so, Seokjin greets you with a sense of intimate familiarity, standing at your approach and brushing his lips against the back of your hand before you can stop him.

“A pleasure to see you, Y/N, as always.”

You know that social etiquette requires you to return the sentiment, but instead, you find yourself looking between Seokjin and your father, trying to figure out his purpose here.

“What is going on?”

Your father grimaces at your rudeness but opts to ignore it. “Seokjin has come here with a rather exciting opportunity, Y/N, if you would take a seat and listen to him.”

However, you remain standing, spine stiff and wary eyes shifting to the man in front of you with his finely tailored clothes and perfectly combed hair. He, for what it’s worth, doesn’t cower under your stony gaze, maintaining an air of utmost confidence as he states, “Y/N, I would like for you to marry me.”

“No.”

Your answer is immediate and blunt, coming so quickly that Seokjin barely reacts—only the tiniest dip of his mouth as if he doesn’t believe he heard you correctly. But your father leaps to his feet, face red with shock and frustration.

“Y/N, you sit down and listen to the man.”

“I don’t need to listen,” you snap. “My answer is no.”

Seokjin registers your words then, face morphing into a deep frown of disbelief as your father hurries to intervene, grabbing you around the arm to pull you out of the dining room and turning on you the moment you are out of earshot.

“Insolent girl! That man will soon be one of the most powerful in the country—nay, the world! Do you understand the opportunity he is offering you? The life he is offering? How dare you refuse him!”

“Whatever life he is offering is one I want no part of,” you argue, pulling your arm from his grasp to wrap them across your chest. “I have no interest in being married to a man like that. I want to be with someone who loves me.”

He goes deathly still for a moment, drawing connections in his head until you see the moment the realization hits him. “This is about that lousy stable boy, isn’t it?”

You say nothing, only hug yourself tighter and try to swallow down the sudden lump in your throat.

“That’s it, yes? You’re still holding onto some hope that he will come back for you and what? The two of you will go off and live in some hovel? What could he possibly offer you?” he snarls. “No, Y/N. That vermin is gone. You have a chance—a real chance—at a future here, and I’ll be damned if I let you throw it away for the idea of some lower class scum.”

As his words sink in, a chill passes through your body that’s quickly replaced with a white-hot anger, your hands dropping to your sides as you straighten your back in defiance.

“Whether Jungkook returns or not,” you assert, “please be assured that I will never, ever, marry one of your suitors. I will die before I become a mere pawn for your business deals.”

Your father stares at you incredulously, eyes practically bursting from his head. “Business deals? I am looking out for you. So that you can live the luxurious life a child of mine deserves.”

“The life I deserve is the one which I want,” you exclaim. “And these rich dullards are not it.”

Final word given, you spin on your heel in emphasis and march off to your room, leaving your father to clumsily patch things up in the dining hall with a humbled and deeply befuddled Seokjin.

The letters stop two years in.

A month passes, then two, then three before you begin to really worry. Another four gone in a blink before you start to consider that you may never actually hear from him again.

For a while, you continue to write to him, thinking that at the very least, if he’s moved to a new job, someone from his old ranch may forward them along if they know where he’s gone to. But after a year of silence transpires, the mail carrier shaking his head at you each day as you rush to meet him outside your house, true dread sets in.

Your address hasn’t changed, which means that he’s stopped writing to you for some reason. Is it possible that he’s moved on? Met another woman perhaps and chosen to settle down? Or…could it be something worse? Your mind hesitates to even go down this path, the terror seeping into your bones, but the thought creeps in late at night when you’re at your most vulnerable that something may have happened to him. Work accidents, illness—any number of dangerous things could have taken him from you without you even knowing. Then again, he sounded healthy in his final letter to you, no word at all of him being ill, and you’d like to think he would’ve arranged for someone to contact you if some tragedy had befallen him.

You conclude, then, that he must have given up. And really, after years of hoping for a shift, for some change in fortune for your futures, you cannot entirely blame him. If anything, you just wish you had seen the signs sooner, sensed some kind of shift in tone that would have prepared you for his sudden silence. His last letter, though, had been much of the same—more updates on his ranching job mixed in with poetic phrases about his love for you. You read it endlessly, poring over the words for some indication that his feelings for you had waned, sitting huddled in a hidden corner of the stables as rain pounds down against the tin roof. Instead, it just makes your heart ache to remind you of love found and lost, his final words haunting you as time continues to drag on to your dismay.

As the months tick by, you keep your promise to your father, steadfastly refusing each suitor that comes to call for you: Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, and even Min Yoongi, who shows up in your dining room every evening for a fortnight before finally accepting your refusal. Meanwhile, you move through your days as if by design, going through the motions without feeling like you’re actually alive. Food is tasteless, your books void of thought, and the skies have certainly lost their color. You find that you actually prefer rainy days now, often taking walks through the drizzle and allowing the droplets of water to slide over your skin and caress you as he once did. Sometimes, it almost makes you feel as if he’s there beside you—memories of thunder and slick kisses enveloping your thoughts and soaking you from the inside out.

No fewer than seven years pass this way, with you haunting the premises of your home while your father begins to complain about you becoming a leech and a burden. You begin to question it yourself, wondering if it may be too much to waste away like this, when, three days after your twenty-seventh birthday, a discovery has you running from your father’s house and never looking back.

It’s another dreary, rainy day, and you, wanting to soak in the full effect of the emblematic weather as it pertains to your mood, have once again parked yourself on the front porch with a book. Your father passed you on his way out earlier, casting a scathing look that you didn’t even bother to grant any attention—you’ve long grown accustomed to his contempt and futile glares.

A little past midday, you glance up at the sound of a person approaching, their footsteps ricocheting off the front steps. Park Jimin comes to a halt under the porch’s cover, gazing at you curiously as if wondering why you are outside in this weather at all. However, if he finds your behavior strange, he doesn’t say anything, a choice which comes of no surprise to you. One of your father’s youngest business partners, you’ve always liked Jimin during the times that you’ve interacted with him. He’s quiet, polite, and has never made an attempt at courting you, always respecting the boundaries that many other young men have tried to cross over the years.

That being said, you’re inclined to at least offer him a greeting, acknowledging his presence with a mannered, “Hello, Mr. Park.”

“Good day,” he responds with a small bow in your direction. “Is your father at home?”

“No, he had to attend a business meeting with Mr. Kim this morning.” You frown as his face falls, a touch of panic widening his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

A delicate finger rises to rub at his temple. “Ah, I’m supposed to be finalizing a contract with Hybe Trading Company later this afternoon,” he says. “Your father told me to come pick up the documents beforehand.”

“He may be back soon,” you guess. Your father didn’t give an indication of exactly when he would return, but you do know his meeting with Kim Taehyung wasn’t supposed to last all day.

“I may not be able to take that risk.” He chews at his lip, thinking. “Is it possible that he left the contracts for me somewhere? Might you be able to check?”

Your jaw drops a fraction at his request—you could count on one hand the number of times that you’ve been in your father’s office. “I don’t think—“

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin begs. “We can’t afford to lose this partnership.”

The desperation in his expression has you acquiescing, and so you lead him inside and tell him to wait in the entryway as you head to your father’s office on the second floor.

The room is arguably the grandest in the house, with magnificent windows that give a full view of the estate’s grounds and tall bookshelves packed with your father’s collection of texts. The finest rugs protect the hardwood under your feet, and at the center of the room sits a monstrous yet beautiful mahogany desk with a plush chair at its back.

You move to the desk first, skimming the documents scattered on top for something that has the trading company’s name on it. But all you see are invoices, shipping records, and maps of different trading routes marked with your father’s notes, and lightly shuffling through the papers comes up fruitless as well.

The first desk drawer you open contains a series of highly-organized ledgers, so you quickly move on to the second, which has the same. The third drawer reveals a reserve of desk and writing supplies, while the fourth, finally, contains a mess of paper.

You rummage through the clutter, still not finding anything that seems to be the contract Jimin is looking for, and are about to give up when a stack of letters buried at the back of the compartment has you freezing, the small, neat handwriting chilling you to the bone.

Pulling the stack out with shaking hands, you quickly realize that there are a few dozen, all postmarked no more than two months apart between each one. Collapsing backwards into the desk chair, you read frantically, quickly realizing just how wrong you were about Jungkook giving up on you:

My Dearest, it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, but I pray your letters were simply lost in transit…

I’m incredibly pleased to let you know that I’ve received a promotion. The owner of the farm, Mr. Lee, has taken a liking to me and has shifted me to a more considerable role with additional pay. I’m saving every bit I can…

My Love, I miss you deeply. And while your silence pains me to no end, I hope it is a mere misunderstanding. If you do not wish to hear from me ever again, only say the word and I will stop writing to you and remove myself from your life entirely, albeit with a heavy heart…

I still have some ways to go, but my savings are increasing exponentially, and I am learning more than ever. Mr. Lee has been teaching me about the business side of things and helping me make connections. What a wonder to have a boss who fully supports your aspirations! He insists he will be able to help me in my endeavors, and call me naive, but I believe it to be true. Rest assured, love, that I am steadfastly working hard for you, for us, and for our future…

My Darling Y/N, my heart aches to not read your words and hear your thoughts. But since you have not yet rejected me outright, I can only assume that your silence is involuntary or that it comes with deep hesitation. Whatever the reason, please know that I love you, I miss you, and I am not giving up on us unless you tell me so…

And finally, the shortest letter dated almost year back:

Y/N,

I don’t have the words to describe my feelings so I will keep it brief: I did it. If this letter finds its way to you and you wish to find me, I eagerly await you at our home…

The location is scribbled in a tangle of text, his usually neat writing askew as if he was shaking when he wrote it, and the words land with the force of a thousand bricks in your chest—the weight of seven years apart, the agony of your separation, finally culminating in this revelation.

The door to the office bangs open, and you look up, heart already racing with the discovery of the letters, to see your father looming in the doorway, face painted with rage.

“What in the hell are you doing in my private office?!”

You’re on your feet in an instant, storming across the room and shaking the final letter in his face. “What is this?!”

He pales a fraction as he registers what you’re holding before stepping further into the room and slamming the door shut. “I should have burned them,” he sneers. “I did what I did to protect you.”

“From what?” You wave your arms wildly, anger and adrenaline winding their way through your limbs. “From happiness? From a man who has spent years working hard to be able to provide for me?”

“I have worked hard to provide for you! And I will not see my legacy be thrown aside for some silly crush!”

Steeling yourself, you pull in a steadying breath for courage. “Then you won’t.”

“And what does that mean?” your father scoffs, trying to look dismissive and intimidating, yet seeming smaller than you’ve ever seen him.

“You won’t see any of it. I’m leaving.”

“What?”

Time stops for a moment, your declaration holding the air in the room hostage as your father fully absorbs your words.

“You ungrateful idiot girl!” your father suddenly exclaims. “After everything I’ve done for you? Fine then! Go live with the dogs, with the filth and slime you apparently love so dearly. I have had it with your thanklessness and impertinence and will be relieved to have you from my sight.” He steps into your personal space, pointing a finger directly at your face so close that you can feel the heat of his ire radiating off of his hand. “But know this: the second you step out of these doors, you will never be welcomed back. Never.”

You waste only two seconds longer, locked in a stubborn stare-down with your father before you rip your gaze away and tear from the room with Jungkook’s letters still in hand. Rushing to your room, you gather his other letters from your desk and stuff them into a bag along with the modest sum of money you had accumulated in case you ever needed to run.

And then you’re a bird in flight, sweeping down the stairs and out the door with nothing but a simple, “Good day, Mr. Park,” as you pass an absolutely bewildered Jimin in the front hall.

The rain is cold and heavy as it soaks through your clothes and hair almost immediately, but you barely feel it—the freedom in your heart and the scribbled location in your bag more than enough to keep you warm as you charge towards home.

The house is beautiful.

Modest, compared to the mansion you grew up in, sure. But arguably more beautiful—with a compact two stories, white wood, and neatly painted green shutters. There’s a wrap-around porch overlooking the acres upon acres of farmland, and even through the rain falling in sheets and blurring your vision, you spy two rocking chairs sitting side-by-side under the awning.

It’s been a long two weeks of journeying to get to this spot, relying on the kindness of strangers to help you navigate to the location Jungkook had written down. Now, standing at the end of the dirt path leading up to what is presumably your new home, you think that you would do it all again in a heartbeat. The past two weeks, the past seven years, all worth it to experience the hope currently blooming in your chest like the sunflowers you spent so much time admiring in the past.

You’re trudging up the path, the dirt and mud smearing along your shoes, when a darkened figure steps out from the fields to your right, hand raised in greeting.

“Good afternoon, miss. Are you lost? I—” He grinds to a halt like he’s walked straight into a brick wall, eyes wide and lips parted as he absorbs the sight of you soaked and disheveled on his property.

“Y/N?” he says it like a prayer, like he believes you’re some kind of hallucination—a phantom come to haunt him through the haze of rainy memories.

You stare at each other through the downpour, and you find yourself studying him, observing the changes that have taken place in the time you’ve been apart. He’s taller and broader than you remember, shoulders stretching wide and drawing your gaze down towards biceps that protrude below his drenched shirt. The lines of his face have sharpened with age—losing some of the youthful roundness that had endeared him to you so quickly—but he’s still starry-eyed as ever, the charming young man from your memories undoubtedly gazing back at you.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, and the spell is suddenly broken. You surge towards each other, meeting in the middle with a flash of lightning. Your arms go around his shoulders, and Jungkook pulls you into him so desperately and with so much force that he lifts you right off your feet, your mouths coming together with a heated urgency.

He’s everything you’ve dreamed of, every desperate memory you’ve been clinging to come back to life. And with every touch, every pass of his hands over your body, you feel yourself rapidly coming back to life too—joy making its way into your lungs and through your bloodstream for the first time since you were twenty years old and kissing this man in your family’s stables.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips when you finally part. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“You have no idea–”

“I do. Jungkook, I do.”

“You stopped writing—”

“My father,” you rush to say. “He intercepted the letters. I thought you stopped writing. Thought you gave up—”

“Oh, my love, never.” His hands rise to cradle your face. “I never stopped thinking of you. Never stopped dreaming of this.” He kisses you again, slowly this time, savoring every movement of his lips against yours.

You shudder against his chest, the thrill of your reunion rattling your nerves just as a cool wind blows through, and Jungkook pulls back with worry.

“You must be freezing,” he murmurs sweetly. “Come. Let’s get you warmed up inside.”

With an arm wrapped around your waist, as though he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep a hand on you, he guides you the rest of the way to the house, up the front porch steps, and through the front door.

“Welcome home,” Jungkook says.

You’re met first with the smell of pine and cinnamon and an impossibly comforting warmth. The first floor is comprised of a wide-open space, with a small kitchen and dining room to your left and a sitting room to your right that has tall windows and a fireplace that is currently roaring. You move around the room slowly, taking it all in, and when you notice the vase of bright sunflowers sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, you just about melt to the floor.

“I know it’s smaller than you’re used to,” he sheepishly mumbles from the doorway. “But we can expand in the future—”

“It’s perfect, Jungkook.” And it really is, every panel and floorboard evidence of how hard he’s worked, how fiercely your love has endured. “It’s absolutely perfect. I love every bit of it.”

He brightens at that, smile stretching wide. “I’m glad.”

“How did you find it?”

“Well, I bought the property after finally saving enough money. Mr. Lee helped me with the buying process.” He shrugs. “And then I built this.”

You freeze, absolutely stunned. “You what?”

“I built it,” he says simply. “I had some help, of course. But the design is all mine.”

“I…you…” It makes your thoughts spin—the idea that he did all of this. He built a house for you.

“Here, look.” He takes your hand and pulls you into the living room, gesturing at a set of empty shelves against the back wall. “For your books.”

You laugh incredulously, fully overwhelmed at this point. “I didn’t bring any with me.”

“Then we’ll start you a new collection,” he says softly, drawing you towards him.

You reach up to trace his jaw, his brow, his cheekbones—memorizing every line of this beautiful man who dared to make your dreams a reality. “I can’t believe this. Can’t believe you. The things you’ve done.”

“All for you, my love.”

Your heart thumps a steady rhythm in your throat, love and the relief of finally—finally—having him in front of you overpowering your senses until all that exists is you and him; the strain of your former life feels worlds away.

Hands find his chest in a slow migration downwards as the chill of the rain gives way to the heat of the fireplace, and it’s not long before his large hands are wrapping around your hips, a darkness in his irises that wasn’t there a second ago.

“There’s an upstairs, too, I’m assuming?” you whisper, fingers teasing a button on his shirt.

“There is.” He swallows, and you watch the bob of his Adam’s apple like a lure. “Would you like to see it?”

You lean in, skimming your mouth below his without fully joining your lips. “Please.”

Tangling your fingers in his, he practically runs upstairs with you trailing in his wake.

Finally, you think, as he pulls your clothes from your body, climbs over you on the bed, and presses into you with such tender deliberation that you think you’ll combust.

Finally, as you spend the rest of the night wrapped up together, endlessly whispering I love yous back and forth.

Finally, as you wake up in his arms the next day, his face the first thing you see.

Finally, as he pulls out a small box at breakfast, the dainty diamond ring easily the most precious piece of jewelry you’ve ever possessed.

Finally, as he takes you out on the farm and shows you the small field of sunflowers he planted just for you.

Finally, you think, as you sit in one of the rocking chairs on the porch and watch him work from afar. I’m home.

Years Later…

“Mama! Mama look!”

You glance up from your book to where Jungkook and Haneul are currently journeying in the yard. It’s a bright sunny day—the wide expanse of blue sky above unmarred by even a single cloud. Sunshine beams down onto your son’s smiling face where he sits on the back of one of the horses, a too-big cowboy hat on his head and his father at his side for support.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart!” you call. “Just be sure to listen to Papa!”

Jungkook flashes you a grin, the excitement radiating off of him in waves. He’s been talking about teaching Haneul to ride since the day he was born, so you know this means a great deal to him, especially seeing your son’s own energy and enthusiasm. Haneul has always liked the “horsies,” toddling happily around the stables ever since he could walk.

Then again, given who his parents are, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Jungkook and Haneul finish their loop around the yard, and you hear your husband shower the boy with praise as he lifts him off of the horse’s back.

“Again, again!” Haneul cheers, bouncing in place and causing Jungkook to laugh.

“We will! Just let me check on your mother first.”

He moves comfortably, leisurely as he climbs the porch steps and comes to a rest in front of where you sit. Looming over you, he leans in until he can press a gentle kiss to your lips, reverent in his motions.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. His fingers brush lightly over your belly and its new curve.

“I’m alright,” you say, guiding his hand until his palm is resting flat. “This one is kicking up a storm though.”

As if on cue, you feel a tiny jolt—Jungkook giving a breathless chuckle as he feels the jab himself.

“Go easy on your mother,” he says in the direction of your stomach, rubbing a soft circle into your flesh. “No storms. Clear skies and sunshine.” Then his eyes are back on your face. “Speaking of, I have something for you.”

He reaches behind his back and produces a single sunflower, tucking it behind your ear before giving you one more kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.” More than the day you met him. More than the day he left. And more than the day you finally made your way here.

“Now I should get back to Haneul before he starts yelling for me.”

You laugh out the brightest sound that’s ever come from your lungs. “Go.”

A warm breeze ripples through the trees, the sound of your son’s giggles and Jungkook’s cheerful exclamations finding their way back to where you sit.

What a beautiful day, you think, setting down your book and getting up to join your family in the golden sunshine.

a/n: thanks for reading! pls don't forget to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

2K notes · View notes

3d-wifey · 9 months

Note

This is such a niche ask, but I saw that you do Mortal Kombat. Can I ask for some flirty intro dialogue? You know like the conversation the characters have b4 the fight? But like with a Goddess!reader who's basically Hecate? like a Nyx/Hecate fusion if that makes sense. Oh and can you do what some of her taunts would be? I feel like those and her fatalities would be illusion and tarot based :)))

Flirty Intro Dialogue

Pairings: Johnny Cage x Reader; Noob Saibot x Reader; Erron Black x Reader; Dark Raiden x Reader; Cassie Cage x Reader; Shang Tsung x Reader

A/N: (Back to using gifs for headcanons). This is just for the MK 11 timeline. Once MK 1 comes out, I'll do new ones. Had to do a little research fan fiction-wise for this one, but I got a good amount out (plus some taunts the reader would say during the fight). I put a lot of thought into the reader's backstory in the MK universe, even though it'll never be used lol. Please, feel free to request more of these characters or some intros for different characters. Maybe even request a one-shot? Who knows ;)

Behind the Scenes: You know how when Erron Black shows up in the intro, he's looking at a Wanted poster of his opponent? I feel like Goddess!reader has something like that where she's looking at a tarot card that's different for each character before it disappears into mist. Another opening is the reader strutting in shapeshifted into her opponent, before turning back. Her friendship fatality has her stirring a comically large witch's caldron and Noob Saibot pops out in a cloud of mist.

You: Jonathan Carlton

Johnny Cage: Sexy witch goddess.

You: I…Hmm.

You: I can feel the magic coursing through your veins. You are one of my Night children, Jonathan.

Johnny Cage: You don’t mean that literally, right? Because it would suck to have the hots for my mom.

You: (sighs) And what a waste.

Johnny Cage: Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming.

You: Do you dream of me often, Mortal?

Johnny Cage: Ohho, absolutely.

Johnny Cage: Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming.

You: (sighs) How many times must you make that joke?

Johnny Cage: You know you love it!

Johnny Cage: So…what are my chances of getting you into my next movie?

You: I’ve told you. I have no desire to appear on your “big screen”.

Johnny Cage: I was thinking we’d make a different kind of movie.

Johnny Cage: Goddess of dreams, huh? Can I call you Sandman?

You: You may call me whatever you please, dear mortal.

Johnny Cage: Oh, you do not wanna give me that kind of power.

Johnny Cage: Heard you and Shinnok had a thing.

You: A…thing?

Johnny Cage: You two boned! Get it? Cuz he’s a skeleton.

Johnny Cage: Tarot, huh? Card tricks are cool and all, but do you got any other witchy gimmicks?

You: I'm particularly fond of palm reading.

Johnny Cage: ...So what I'm hearing is, you're good with your hands?

Johnny Cage: You, Fujin, and Raiden go way back, huh?

You: Since the dawn of time.

Johnny Cage: (grimace) Yeesh, they've been friend zoned that long?

Johnny Cage: Not so fast, Hermonie.

You: Must you always spout such inane drivel?

Johnny Cage: Someone's been using their word-a-day calendar!

Johnny Cage: I've never met a non-evil Eldar God.

You: Evil is quite subjective.

Johnny Cage: I'll remember that next time I'm kicking one's ass.

Noob Saibot: My Goddess.

You: Bi-Han.

Noob Saibot: The shadows cling to your presence.

Noob Saibot: Many have wanted me to yield to their command.

You: Oh?

Noob Saibot: Only you have succeeded, My Goddess.

You: You are not touched by the Night, dear Bi-Han. You are shrouded in it.

Noob Saibot: What better way to show that I belong to you?

You: It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?

Noob Saibot: The shadows whisper your name.

You: (smiles) What do they say about me?

Noob Saibot: That your beauty is combated by no other. They speak only the truth for their Goddess.

You: You have been a steadfast worshiper, Bi-Han. How shall I reward your loyalty?

Noob Saibot: I only ask for one thing: to be your consort.

You: Hmm. That could be arranged.

Noob Saibot: I do not want you to be upset with me, but I will not take back what I said.

You: Your brother cares for you, Bi-Han.

Noob Saibot: Yet, here we are.

You: Why must we fight?

Noob Saibot: I wish to prove to you my might, My Goddess.

You: Oh, dear wraith. For you, my love is freely given. You have already earned it.

Noob Saibot: You're different than the other Eldar Gods. You...care.

You: Do you think me weak?

Noob Saibot: Never.

You: Care to spar?

Noob Saibot: I'd be honored.

You: Then don't take it personally when I beat you.

Noob Saibot: The shadows crave your touch.

You: Only the shadows?

Noob Saibot: I'll always long for you, My Goddess.

You: Do you fear me, dear Bi-Han?

Noob Saibot: I respect you.

You: (sigh) That wasn't a no.

Erron Black: You've got quite the pretty penny on your head.

You: Are you here to kill me then, Erron Black?

Erron Black: With a face like that, I wouldn’t dream of it.

Erron Black: You got any love spells up your sleeve, witchy? I swear ’m good for it.

You: Love is not something to take lightly. Who do you have in mind?

Erron Black: (smirks) Look in a mirror, darlin’.

Erron Black: You the Goddess of lust, by any chance?

You: That is not a purpose I was created to serve.

Erron Black: Pity. You’d certainly suit it.

Erron Black: You had something to ask me, beautiful?

You: Yes. What is “reverse cowgirl”?

Erron Black: (smirks) How ‘bout I show you the ins and outs after this?

Erron Black: ’M not usually one for marriage, darlin’.

You: Neither am I.

Erron Black: I don’t have to be the only one, as long as I’m your favorite.

Erron Black: You ever find out why Shinnok offed you?

You: I believe he wanted to turn me into his revenant bride. He became rather desperate after I declined his proposal.

Erron Black: (chuckle) Well, I guess I can’t blame the guy.

Erron Black: Why don’t you take a peek into ol’ Erron’s dreams? Swear you won’t be disappointed.

You: I’ve seen your dreams. I must say, you give me very generous proportions.

Erron Black: Then you must know I’m a very generous lover.

Erron Black: I've struck gold

You: How so?

Erron Black: Well, you're here, ain'tcha?

Erron Black: You cast a spell on me, Goddess?

You: I have not, Erron Black.

Erron Black: Do you want to?

Erron Black: How 'bout you and I see where the night takes us?

You: Do you think you can keep up?

Erron Black: Trust me. I may be fast on the quick draw, but I don't shoot quick.

Erron Black: You've got the magic touch.

You: A good deal of my powers flow through my hands.

Erron Black: I want 'em on me.

You: I’ve heard of how you…disposed of Shinnok.

Dark Raiden: After what he did to you, after how I mourned, I would behead him a hundred times over.

You: It isn’t judgment you sense in my voice. I would have killed him myself if you hadn’t beat me to it.

You: Do you still desire me, even as you are now?

Dark Raiden: If you need to ask, then I have failed to show you my devotion.

You: Hmph.

Dark Raiden: Will you abandon me too, my love?

You: It is not in my nature.

Dark Raiden: They do not deserve your blessings.

Dark Raiden: How have you…How are you here?

You: I sensed my presence was needed and returned to my corporal form just in time to be put in Kronika's void.

Dark Raiden: You could not sense how much I needed you, how much I mourned?

You: We are in such uncertain times, my vision is clouded.

Dark Raiden: I’m sorry for the part I play in your duress, my love.

You: You are only doing your duty. It’s how you’re going about it that leaves me weary.

Dark Raiden: How can you find such beauty in their shortcomings?

You: The Night welcomes all into her shadowed embrace.

Dark Raiden: You are wasted on them!

Dark Raiden: I was so lost without your guidance.

You: When I died?

Dark Raiden: When you were taken from me!

Dark Radien: How did Shinnok do it?

You: He lied to me and attacked me when I let my guard down.

Dark Raiden: (growls) If I could, I would bring him back to enact justice upon him once more.

You: I have but one wish.

Dark Raiden: Anything.

You: I wish for you to come back to me.

You: Is it true? What you've done?

Dark Radien: It was the only way.

You: You have lost yourself.

You: We've never fought before, have we?

Dark Radien: We never needed to for me to know you're the stronger between us.

You: Flattery will not save you.

Cassie Cage: You know, I think I’m finally understanding why Raiden lost his marbles.

You: How so?

Cassie Cage: I think I’d lose my shit too if someone like you was taken from me.

Cassie Cage: Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

You: I’m…afraid I do not understand.

Cassie Cage: Oh, you have got to let me take you on a movie date.

Cassie Cage: Who’s your favorite: Fujin or Raiden? Come on. You can tell me.

You: I’m a Goddess. Why would I limit myself to one lover?

Cassie Cage: You dirty girl.

Cassie Cage: What are you the Goddess of again?

You: (hesitates) …It would be easier to list what I am not the Goddess of.

Cassie Cage: (whistles) And I thought my parents expected a lot of me.

Cassie Cage: Come on, just one kiss!

You: I am older than you could possibly imagine.

Cassie Cage: An older woman. What’s not to love?

Cassie Cage: I heard you died. So, how are you standing here in all your godly beauty?

You: I have much power over death and the comings and goings of the Underworld. My soul simply dispersed there.

Cassie Cage: Yep. That’ll do it.

Cassie Cage: So…You didn’t happen to see that one dream, did you?

You: I’ve seen all your dreams, Cassandra. And I’m flattered.

Cassie Cage: (clears throat) …Right.

Cassie Cage: It’s a full moon

You: She calls to me and all who feel her light.

Cassie Cage:…You’re not gonna turn into a werewolf, are you?

Cassie Cage: You gonna turn me into a frog, Goddess?

You: It’s a possibility.

Cassie Cage: (shrugs) As long as you change me back with a kiss.

Cassie Cage: Heard you hung out with Jacqui.

You: Yes, though she didn’t mention you at all.

Cassie Cage: She is the worst wing woman.

You: You’ve come to my crossroads. Do you need my guidance?

Cassie Cage: Just wondering if you could teach me a trick or two.

You: So it’s my protection you seek.

Shang Tsung: Your beauty entices me

You: My power entices you.

Shang Tsung: Two things can be true at once.

Shang Tsung: Soon, you shall be my bride.

You: You cannot tie down a Goddess; you cannot tie down the Night.

Shang Tsung: I can try.

Shang Tsung: Do my powers impress you, Goddess of magic?

You: They certainly intrigue me, Sorcerer.

Shang Tsung: Allow me to give you a closer look.

Shang Tsung: Every time I invoke my magic, I do so in your name.

You: Your loyalty changes with the moon’s phases.

Shang Tsung: I devote myself to you, my Goddess.

Shang Tsung: I want something more valuable than your soul.

You: Such as?

Shang Tsung: Your love.

Shang Tsung: You forgave Shinnok, but not I?

You: I did not forgive him. He killed me when I refused to be his bride.

Shang Tsung: I will succeed where he has failed.

Shang Tsung: I kneel at your altar, my Goddess.

You: You needn’t prostrate yourself before me.

Shang Tsung: It is never a hardship to be on my knees for you.

You: Do you fear me?

Shang Tsung: I’d be a fool not to.

You: Then why challenge me?

Shang Tsung: You have the godly brothers on quite a tight leash.

You: I demand no loyalty from them.

Shang Tsung: It’s doubtful that they stray far from you.

You: Kronika spared me in hopes of using my powers. When I refused, she cast me into the void.

Shang Tsung: We have been similarly wronged by her.

You: That is why we must aid Luai Kang in defeating her.

Shang Tsung: You are the last Eldar God.

You: Yes. And I shall help Luai Kang in his creation of the new timeline.

Shang Tsung: Then this will be goodbye for now.

Taunts

You: The Wheel of Fortune comes for us all. You: Your future is uncertain. You: You cannot hide from the Night’s embrace. You: Knell in repentance. You: Your path ends here. You: You are lost. You: It is simply an illusion. You: You challenge an Eldar God? You: Will you make an offering? You: You are forgiven. You: I will lead your spirit through the gates of the Netherrealm. You: You shall not pass. You: Are you seeing double? You: Allow me to guide you.

3K notes · View notes

justauthoring · 4 months

Text

that cherished feeling.

it's a feeling you've never felt before, but bakugou shows you just how wonderful it can feel.

a/n: this is the longest oneshot i've ever written and ive been working on this for like a week lol. i really hope you guys enjoy this :)) i love fantasy au's and specifically (1) barbarian!bakugou!

pairing: barbarian!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

word count: 8,010

warnings: parental abuse, death

“Make sure she looks decent enough for him.”

With a frown, you keep your gaze held ahead even as you’re pulled and tugged in all directions without a single care for your own wellbeing. You know to keep silent, hands held tightly before yourself to stop the violent shaking that overwhelms your body caused by the fear that strikes you deep in the heart.

“He’ll be here any moment,” your step-mother continues, voice cruel, “hurry up!” Her words are hissed at the maids that fret around you, bustling about as they pin your hair back and dust makeup across your face to hide the insecurities your mother refuses to let him see. They’ve been at it for hours now, or at least it feels that way, and you’re tired of being poked and prodded at all for the sake of a man who will probably kill you the second he’s done using you.

They’re barbaric..

They fuck and kill and pillage anything within sight.

They’re monsters.

You’ve heard these whispers around the castle your entire life, maids tucked into corners whispering amongst themselves, the cruel words your step-mother has spat to her council plenty of times. Your entire life you’ve heard about how horrible the Adroghar’s are, that they came into power and nobility by killing Kings, Queens, Princes and Princess’ of different lands, stealing money and destroying villages.

Your entire life, you’ve been terrified of them.

And now, today, you were about to be married off to one – in other words, sold.

Have you heard? The Queen means to sell Y/N off to the King of the Adroghar tribe!

To Bakugou Katsuki? Isn’t he said to be the most ruthless King they’ve ever had in power?

He’ll kill her. Or worse. Certainly.

If it’s for our safety though, I can’t say I care much…

Yes. Our Queen is doing her best to keep us all safe.

Your step-mother has hated you since the day you were born. You were a constant, living, breathing reminder of your father’s indecency towards her and the second he’d died when you were two, she’s made it her goal to remind you of this fact every day of your life. You’ve been beaten, starved, locked away and treated like garbage by every single person you’ve ever known.

You’ve never felt love. Never felt warmth.

Not a single person has ever cared for you.

And now, to stop the Adroghar tribe from trampling on your land, your step-mother has sold you off to appease them. You had no say just like you never have.

“They’re here!”

A knight comes running into the room, flustered as he calls for your mother’s attention. His words make your entire being freeze, breath caught in the back of your throat as the fear makes your muscles tense.

“The Adrogharian tribe is here!”

Everything else happens in the blink of an eye–you’re forced to move, pulled by hands that grip and pinch at you, your corset tightened around your waist and a sheer shawl draped over your face to cover you from view. Before you know it you’re being led into the main hall where quickly the sound of boisterous chatter echoes and bounces around. You keep your head dipped down as your mother ordered you to, hands clasped politely before you as your nails dig and pinch into your skin.

The second the large doors slam behind you, you know your fate is sealed if it hadn’t already been.

Maybe you could’ve run. Maybe you could’ve tried to fight.

But you know it would’ve ended the same either way.

This is how it’s been your entire life.

Your mother stands directly in front of you, blocking you from view, but you let yourself slowly peek upward, through your lashes. You see the tenseness of your mother’s back as she moves to greet your guests, before slowly letting your eyes drift to who will soon be your husband. Katsuki Bakugou. He’s been the King of the Adroghar tribe for a few years now, having taken over after his mother passed–and since then has made quite a name for himself for being one of the most ruthless and cruel Kings to ever grace the Adroghar tribe.

Considering their record of ruthlessness, this fact scared you even more.

He’s tall, buff with wide shoulders and large hands. His hair is a light blonde that sticks out in every direction, unruly on his head and yet it suits his red, piercing eyes that seem as they penetrate your very sole. He’s wearing a cloak lined with fur, his neck decorated with necklaces with what you can only assume is teeth. The fashion of the Adroghar tribe is very different from the customs of your people, as he wears only trousers and no shirt, showing the world his chiseled chest.

He’s both intimidating and terrifying.

“Ah, King Bakugou,” your step-mother calls out, bowing slowly. It’s odd to see your step-mother bend for another, but you also know she’s deathly afraid of the man before her; given that they had the ability to completely wipe all of you out. “Thank you for making the long trip this way.”

Bakugou regards her with narrowed eyes, shoulders set back as he grunts out; “what’s this offer you have for me?”

Your eyes widen, hands clutching your skirt–he didn’t know?

Letting out a nervous laugh, your step-mother nods; “I heard you have yet to take a wife, my King.”

You watch, best you can see, as his lips set into a thin line. “Our traditions are different from your own,” he hisses, “but… yes. I have not.”

“Well, then, my Bakugou, I offer you my daughter in return for the safety of our Kingdom.”

She steps back then, and you tense, nails digging into the palm of your hands hard enough to draw blood as you raise your head just slightly. Bakugou’s eyes fall on you then, narrowed and dark as he regards you, and feels as if he’s peering into your very soul as you stare back at him then.

“Let me see her face.” Bakugou calls, gesturing for you to step forward.

You move to do so, but you can’t get your feet to work. You’re paralyzed with fear, you realize somewhere along the way–terrified of this man in front of you and the men that linger around him, laughing, cheering, all staring at you with the same leering look that fills your stomach with knots and makes it hard to breathe.

You catch your step-mothers gaze when you don’t move and she’s looking at you with wild panic as she gestures for you to step forward.

You can’t.

“Is she mute or just stupid?” Bakugou hisses.

Your eyes widen, and you feel like you might puke.

Your step-mother’s hand is wrapping around your arm in the next second, grip pinching, yanking you forward as a small yelp leaves your lips in response. You’re thrown, losing your footing as you come crashing to your knees directly in front of the King, your step-mother yanking the shawl off of your head in the next second and a new sense of vulnerability washes over you.

Your step-mother had adorned you in incredibly revealing clothing, more skin than you’ve ever shown on display for all of these leering men to see.

Too afraid to raise your head, you let out a whimper, curling into yourself.

You realize your actions could have you killed but you’re too afraid to care.

I’m going to be killed anyway… raped and then killed. What does any of it matter?

A minute passes and then slowly, Bakugou shifts in front of you. Before you know it, he’s kneeling in front of you, and terror strikes at you when you notice his arm move out of the corner of your eyes, flinching, expecting to be hit or worse, maybe he’s reaching for his sword to kill you–but, neither of that happens. You don’t feel pain or a slap across your cheek, instead, the touch is light and gentle despite his coarse skin as Bakugou gently clasps your jaw, moving your gaze upwards and on his own.

It’s the first time you’ve met his gaze head on, but oddly, his eyes don’t seem so intimidating this close.

He stares at you for a moment, a deep frown etched on his face, before his gaze raises, past you and onto your step-mother.

“Do you always treat your own family like this?”

Your eyes widen. Did he just–

“Bu-but my King, she wouldn’t–”

He scoffs, not even letting her finish and your step-mother falls eerily silent as he does. It’s like his entire personality had changed in the split second you’d been thrown to the ground. He shifts, his hands moving to grab you by the arm, but his grip is gentle, just tight enough to pull you up to your feet. You let him, confused and baffled by what was happening, as your arms curl around you to cover yourself, letting him guide you behind him as you turn to face your step-mother.

You don’t see it, too focused on her harsh gaze on you, but something warm is wrapped around your shoulders a moment later and your eyes fall on Bakugou with parted lips as he clasps his cloak around your neck. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes are soft as you grab his cloak gently, gripping the material close to yourself as the warmth envelops you.

Bakugou turns to face your step-mother, his face dark and his words menacing. “I should have your head for that.”

Her eyes bulge, as do yours—you can’t believe what you’re hearing. You can’t believe what’s happening. Never once has anyone stood up for you, and the last person you ever thought that would was the man you’d been sold to. A barbarian. A monster.

Yet, despite everything you’ve been told your entire life, he didn’t didn’t seem like a monster to you at that moment.

Your step-mother sputters over her words, indignation flooding her as she stares back at Bakugou. Then, her eyes drift to yours, gaze cold and steely and you know in that moment, like everything else she’s felt has gone wrong, she blames you entirely.

“She’s just the daughter of a measly prostitute!” Your step-mother bellows, eyes crazed as she loses her composure, voice echoing across the suddenly silent hall. No one says a word as she stands there, huffing with rage. Even Bakugou’s men have fallen eerily silent.

“She’s just the baby of a whore with not a single claim to the throne,” she laughs, hand reaching out to point towards you. “I was giving you to her as a ruse! She’s nothing more than scum on the underside of my shoe.”

The silence echoes and drags.

It feels like hours of agonizing anticipation as not a single person says anything. You can’t see Bakugou’s face but yours is burning red with the humiliation of your truth being spilled out to everyone, most of all Bakugou. Your step-mother has spent her life reminding you, never once letting you live without hearing similar words in the back of your mind. It wasn’t like your people didn’t know either—maids had spent their life leering down at you and knights had laughed at you anytime you’d drifted past them.

But it’s a new sort of humiliation having it be said in front of Bakugou and his men.

A minute later, but it feels like eternity, Bakugou finally steps forward. It’s one single step, his wide back thoroughly blocking your view of your step-mother in front of you. It’s one step but he’s standing right in front of your mother, close enough to touch her.

“You should know,” Bakugou starts slowly, voice low. “That your background isn’t a matter of concern in the Adroghar tribe. We don’t care if you’re born from a whore or nobility.”

Your face eases, staring at his bare back.

Then, in the next second, he shifts. It feels like you blink and you miss it. There’s a flash of something red and then the thud of something falling to the ground, before your eyes lower and fall on the head of your step-mother, severed from the rest of her body. Her now lifeless eyes stare back at you, lips left parted from her attempt to scream before Bakugou beheaded her—but she never got the chance.

“Kill the rest of them,” Bakugou orders, turning to face you, a streak of blood across his cheek.

Everyone?

He wanted to kill everyone?

“Here!”

Small hands are thrust in your face, gripping onto the delicate, beautifully made flower crown and behind the hands, rest a beaming face, staring up at you with twinkling eyes.

“For the princess.”

But– the children…

“P-Please!” You’re speaking before you realize it, your voice squeaking in panic as you step towards Bakugou. Your arm pulls out from beneath the large, heavy cloak he’d draped over you seconds ago, meeting his eyes imploringly. “The v-villagers! The children! Please, spare them.”

Bakugou turns to you, shocked eyes falling on you.

You take his expression as one of anger and with a cry, you fall to your knees, holding your hands out before you. “Please, my K-King. Spare the villagers. They’re… they’re innocent.”

A moment of silence passes. Your face is turned towards the ground, forehead all but pressed against the cold stoned floor, shaking as flashes of that sweet, innocent little girl smiling at you surface in your mind. They don’t deserve to die. You don’t care about the rest of them–not your mother who laid dead and beheaded a few feet in front of you and not the maids or the guards who have leered and laughed and tortured you your entire life. But the villagers–the children don’t deserve to die.

“Spare the villagers,” Bakugou orders, and your eyes widen, the beige of the floor flooding your vision. “But kill the rest.”

He–

“Stand up.” Hands fall on your arms, tugging you back to your feet as you stare at Bakugou bewildered. His face is blank, but there’s a hint of something in his eyes you just can’t quite make out. “If you are to be my Queen, I cannot have you on your knees. Not for anyone, including me.”

It seems the customs of the Adroghar tribe are much different than your own, the thought occurs to you. But it isn’t this fact that baffles you. It’s the fact that he calls you his Queen…

He–he still wants to marry you?

“I was promised a bride,” Bakugou calls out, as if he’d heard your thoughts and it’s the first hint of a smile you see on his face as he glances down at you. “I intend to have one.”

You stare at the licks of the fire before you, eyes watching the dance of the flames that heat your cheeks.

In the dead of the night, Bakugou’s men are as loud as ever. They cheer and laugh around the fire a few feet away from you, some bustling about as they feed the horses and make sure everything is in order for travel tomorrow.

You’d all only travelled for a few hours before Bakugou had called for you all to stop for rest. His men had seemed confused and you yourself had expected to travel for longer given that it had still been quite bright out at the time–but Bakugou had just brushed off the questioning gazes of his men and had helped you off the horse you’d been riding with him. His grip was gentle as he guided you to your feet, ordered his men to prepare a fire for you and then left you there once it was done.

You hadn’t seen him since.

You held his cloak which was still wrapped around your shoulders tightly, your grip tight as every step that sounded just a little too close made you flinch. You were confused and dazed by the events of the day, still not even sure if you’d properly registered what had happened. Your step-mother was dead, murdered in front of you, and now the rest of your family and all of your servants are dead as well.

You’d expected Bakugou to reject the marriage at the end of it all but…

I was promised a bride. I intend to have one.

And yet he’d said those words so softly, with an odd warmth to them. Yet, you’d be taken with him as he left your castle, the only home you’ve ever known, placed on his horse right in front of him and now staring at a fire in his people’s camp. Yet, you were meant to follow him all the way back to his home and marry him.

Just how has your life changed so much in such a short amount of time?

“Have you eaten anything?”

Gasping lightly at the voice, your head snaps upwards, wide eyes falling on Bakugou’s. He’s stepping towards you, a plate in his hands as he makes his way to sit beside you on the small cot his men had prepared for you. Your eyes watch as he moves, not having properly registered his question as he takes a seat directly beside you. His leg brushes against your own and you hug his cloak tighter to yourself, body tensing.

“Sorry,” he mumbles gruffly, having caught your reaction. He pulls his leg away and then holds the plate out in front of you. “Are you hungry?”

Your eyes dance across the food on the plate, puzzled by the sight. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

“All that’s… for me?”

Bakugou’s eyes flicker to the plate, raising a brow; “yes?”

“O-oh, thank you,” with shaky hands, you grab the plate, setting it down on your lap. You feel Bakugou’s eyes on you as you ponder what to try first. It’s not just the amount of the food on the plate, it looks much different than anything you’ve ever seen back at home. You may not have been fed much and whilst you usually were given scraps, you know that this is very different to the traditional food your people eat.

Tentatively, you reach out, taking a bit of it in between your fingers once you notice the lack of utensils and place it in your mouth. Instantly, you're hit with a wave of flavour you’ve never tasted before. Your eyes widen as the taste floods your entire mouth, eyes gleaming with delight as you let out a small moan without thinking.

Bakugou chuckles beside you.

Your eyes fall on him, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Never tried Adrograhian food before, I take it?”

You shake your head, “that and… well, I’ve never had something so… full of flavour.”

Bakugou blinks, the smile fading from his lips as you turn away, trying to ignore the look on his face as you place your attention back on the food. The two of you sit in silence as you eat the rest of the food, perhaps eating faster and bit more messier than Bakugou probably would’ve expected from you–but you’ve never tasted something so decedent nor had so much food to eat all for yourself.

When he doesn’t punish you the first few times for shoving your mouth full, you figure it’s alright too.

“Thank you,” you call out to him once the food is done, your voice a soft whisper as you smile softly over at him. “Thank you.” You bow your head.

“There’s no need to do that,” Bakugou calls out in a rush, shaking his head. “You don’t… I won’t… hurt you.”

Blinking, you stare at him, lips left parted.

Distantly, you notice red across his cheeks but Bakugou is standing before you can get a better look, pushing himself to his feet before turning, back facing you. “Get some rest,” he grunts, “we have a long day of travel ahead of us tomorrow.”

You watch him walk off, watch as his back grows further and further away, until you’re once again left alone. Except, this time you don’t feel so lonely.

A small smile curls onto your lips as his words echo in your mind.

I won’t hurt you.

Adroghar is beautiful and unlike anything you’ve ever heard.

You’re not sure what you expected, but tall, ornate buildings with intricate and detailed designs across them all are not what you expected. There’s people everywhere, bustling about, and cheers echo as Bakugou comes marching through with the rest of his men, smiles on their faces as they reach out towards him, celebrating his return.

It isn’t barbaric.

And it isn’t poor and littered and destroyed like you expected.

It’s… lively and warm and inviting.

“So, this is the famous daughter of Cassian Heinrich.”

The second Bakugou pulls you off his horse and sets you onto your feet, you’re grabbed by a pair of hands and pulled into a bright smiling face that beams back at you. It’s a woman, her eyes twinkling with delight and her skin pink and her hair the same colour. She’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, and you’re shocked, confused by this sudden demanding presence but yet, as you meet her eyes, there’s only warmth staring back at you.

“Oi,” Bakugou calls out, a hand resting on your shoulder as his other hand moves to the girl and yanks her back. “Don’t bombard her like that.”

“Whatever, Bakugou,” the woman scoffs, brushing him off with a wave of the hand.

Your eyes widen at the action–isn’t he the King?

Just who is this woman to regard him so casually?

You half expect Bakugou to kill her for her lack of respect towards him, but as your eyes flutter toward him, you’re bewildered as he simply just scoffs, a light smile on his head as he shakes his head.

“Mina,” Bakugou calls after a moment.

Mina. What a pretty name.

“Hm?” she hums, eyes flickering lazily to glance at him.

“Could you please help Y/N bathe and find some clothes for her to wear?” Bakugou calls out, gesturing to you. “Make sure to wash that shit off her face.”

You pause at his words, eyes flickering to the ground as you distantly reach towards your face. It wasn’t that you thought you were particularly beautiful, if anything, you’d always thought you were quite ugly and your mother had reminded you often that you were. But… but you’d hoped maybe Bakugou had thought differently.

That maybe he’d seen something in you.

Had the makeup your mother had put you made you look worse?

“You really don��t know how to talk to women, Bakugou,” Mina scoffs, stepping towards her as she pulls her arm, tucking you into her side. You stare at her, blinking, before glancing over at Bakugou who stares back, baffled. “Don’t worry,” Mina sings, smiling brightly at you as you slowly put your attention back on her. “Let’s get you bathed and cleaned, all right?”

You nod, slowly, staring back at Bakugou who watches you leave.

Oddly, you don’t want to leave his side.

Mina was chatty.

Very.

The entire time she bathes you, washes your face and hair and dresses you, she barely stops speaking.

It’s comforting, in an odd way. She fills in the silence where you can’t find the words, too overwhelmed by everything to know what to say.

She’s gentle, too. Where the maids back home had pulled and prodded, sneering at you as they reluctantly helped bathed you–it was rare, only on special occasions where your mother needed you for appearances but you’d always dreaded it. They were cruel and harsh and mean and everything in between.

Mina is none of that.

You even smile as she tells you stories about Bakugou. Apparently the two of them have known each other since they were children–them and a few others that Mina tells you about and assures you’ll meet soon.

Once cleaned, dried and dressed, she politely excuses herself, assuring you Bakugou will arrive shortly. You’re left startled when she distantly informs you that it’s Bakugou’s room you’ve been led to but she’s gone before you can say anything otherwise, so, once again left alone, you take a seat on the edge of his bed, not sure what to do.

Your eyes drift across the room, but you don’t dare move.

His room is rather vacant but large. There’s a huge bed, fur carpets draped across the floors and the bed, some swords lined on the wall and a set of armor tucked away in the corner, along with a desk scattered with papers right across from you. It’s everything you would’ve expected from a man like Bakugou.

Still, it makes you feel like you learn just a little about him.

You jump as the door slams open, body freezing as Bakugou comes barelling in. There's a nasty look on his face and it’s like he doesn’t notice you as he strides right past you, throwing a piece of paper onto the desk across from the bed. Your entire body tenses, shoulders straightening as you hesitate, unsure if you should say something or not.

But before you can make the decision, Bakugou’s red, piercing eyes are on you.

However, in an instant, the anger in his eyes is gone. Instead, his gaze softens, eyes wide with pure shock at the sight of you.

“I… I told Mina to lead you to a spare room,” Bakugou explains, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

You move to stand; “I-I can leave–”

“No,” Bakugou calls out, crossing the distance between you in seconds as he reaches for you. You pause, not daring to move as his hand hovers in front of you, instinctively flinching–he halts the second you do, panicked. Your eyes meet his, and you stare, both of you silent, before your gaze flickers to his hand, and you nod.

His fingers brush against the skin of your cheek, eyes dancing across your face.

“You look… beautiful.”

It’s not what you expected.

It never would’ve been what you expected.

No… no one has ever called you beautiful.

“They covered you with all that makeup,” he continues, voice soft. “But now that I can really see you… you’re beautiful, Y/N.”

Your eyes stare at his cheeks warming.

“You… you really think that?”

He frowns, “yes,” and there isn’t an ounce of doubt in his voice.

Tentatively, unsure, you raise your hand, setting it over his own. “No one has ever called me that before.”

“Beautiful?”

You nod.

The frown deepens, and Bakugou wants to say more but all he says instead is; “well, you are.”

You smile up at him. Soft, gentle and demure. But there’s so much feeling behind the smile, portraying every bit of emotion Bakugou has made you feel in the short amount of time you've been with him.

“Thank you.”

And he stares back, unsure of the feelings coursing through him–he’d had every intention of denying your mother’s proposal, of slaughtering them all and you included. When he’d first seen you, he’d scoffed at the sight of you, dressed in fine silk that didn’t leave anything to the imagination, your face covered as it was tradition for your people. You’d look skittish, curled into yourself, head bowed and Bakugou couldn’t deny that in that moment, he’d felt nothing.

Not a single thing towards you.

And then your mother had grabbed you and tossed you to his feet, ripping the shawl off your face and Bakugou can’t quite explain it but… something had changed.

Everything had changed.

He thinks back to the conversation he’d had with one of his men just minutes before entering his room, about what was expected of him.

“You must consummate your marriage.”

Bakugou sighs, “I’ve told you, Sero, I have no intention of–”

“Why’d you take her back with us if you had no intention of giving her a child?”

Narrowing his eyes, Bakugou turns to look at the man standing across from him. “Did you expect me to just leave her there? With her family's blood across the walls and no one to take care of her?”

Sero pauses, face twisting into an expression of bewilderment; “I expected you to kill her like the rest of them. She’s just an ordinary human.”

Bakugou can’t rightly explain it but rage seethes through his body at Sero’s word. He’s crossing the distance over to him in seconds, wrapping a hand around the man’s throat and squeezing with a manic look in his face.

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

To his credit, Sero doesn’t falter; “I don’t understand why this girl means so much to you.”

Swallowing thickly, Bakugou huffs, pulling away as he spins, scoffing. “I don’t know,” he mutters, frustrated at his own lack of understanding. Sero was right. You were just an ordinary woman, apparently born from an illegitimate relationship. You had no special qualities, had been raised as a noble by the looks of it–you were skittish and quiet and jumpy and nothing special.

Bakugou was the King of the Adroghar tribe. He had dragon’s blood coursing through his veins, had strength unheard of and the endurance and ability of a warrior. He’s been raised to be a King, to take charge, to pillage and kill and take what he wants without a single care for anyone else.

Most of all, everyone expected him to pick an Adrogharian woman to marry.

Not a human.

Not you.

“I’m heading to my tent,” Bakugou grunts, “make sure I am left alone.”

“Bakugou?”

Blinking, Bakugou is pulled from his thoughts at the sound of your soft voice calling for him.

He leans back when he realizes you’ve leaned forward, concern etched in your eyes as you stare up at him. It’s instinctive the way his eyes trail lower, and he does it without thought, eyes drifting across your soft, supple skin, taking note of the dress Mina had dressed you in; it was thin, the edges hemmed with lace and rather sheer.

Instantly, he feels his face warm.

You must consummate your marriage tonight.

“You may sleep here tonight,” Bakugou suddenly calls out in a rush, pushing himself off the bed and turning so his back is facing you. “I will sleep somewhere else.”

He’s opening the door before you can say anything, calling out a short ‘goodnight’ over his shoulder before the door slams shut behind him. You jump as he does, lips curving down as he leaves you, once again, all by yourself.

He must’ve been repulsed, you can’t help but think despite his words.

There’s no way a man like him could think you were beautiful.

It’s been a few days since Bakugou took you home and you haven’t seen him once since that night.

Your days are mostly spent in the company of Mina and a handful of maids that Bakugou had assigned to you. Despite the sense of familiarity you slowly develop each day, there’s a nag at the back of your mind at Bakugou’s lack of presence–you weren’t sure what you had done, but whatever it had been clearly had been enough to cause him to avoid you.

Today’s the first day Mina has left you alone, with the excuse that there are duties she’s been neglecting that she must attend to. You brush aside her worries, assuring her that it’s alright and spend the first hour of your morning sitting in Bakugou’s room, basically doing nothing. You expected Bakugou to have you assigned to your own room since that first night he left you, given that after all this was his room you were sleeping in–but he never did and still not really knowing your way around the castle completely and not being told otherwise, you remain there.

Then again, the lack of Mina or even your handmaids, makes the experience incredibly more lonely.

You’re bored.

Incredibly so.

So, you ignore the fear striking your heart, still unsure of the limits that were expected of you, and leave his room. The whole thing is one huge maze, but eventually you find yourself outside, tucked away into a huge field lined by a huge forest, with a cave directly in the middle of it. There isn’t a single person around, and everything is entirely silent; you can hear the wind brush through the glass and leaves, can hear your footsteps as you walk and can hear your own heart racing madly against your chest.

It’s beautiful. Everything you’ve seen since arriving here has been beautiful but this… little alcove is gorgeous.

Smiling softly to yourself, you crouch, letting your hands drift across the grass, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. This is the most freedom you’ve ever felt your entire life and you’ve never been allowed to just explore without the prying eyes of your mother watching your back, staring you down with judgement and hatred.

It’s a new feeling and one you rejoice in, laughing quietly to yourself.

But you’re quickly pulled out of your own little world at the sound of thud, one that rumbles underneath your feet. It causes you to jump, body tensing in fear, head snapping upwards, only for your eyes to fall on… a dragon.

It’s… huge.

It towers over you, a great, large beast that steps out from beneath the confines of the cave, dazzling red scales and eyes that stare right back at you. Oddly, you’re not afraid–you’re frozen in the spot, standing there as it steps towards you, hands limp by your sides and you can’t find it within you to move or walk or do anything but… but you’re not afraid. This dragon could kill you in seconds and it’s one of the most intimidating creatures you’ve ever seen, but you feel comfort as it stares back at you.

You’d known dragons had existed and somewhere in the back of your mind you’d known that the Adrogharian tribe was famous for being dragon tamers–but you’ve never seen one in person.

It… snorts? You’re not sure. Its mouth opens and a noise you’ve never quite heard before comes out, a brush of strong wind hitting you directly in the face, nearly knocking you off your feet.

And then, somehow, you find yourself laughing.

It's the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen

Distantly wondering if you’re crazy, you step forward, small, tentative steps until you’re directly in front of the dragon. Its snout is within reach, and slowly, you raise your hand, eyes flickering from its snout to its eyes, hesitant, before you let your hand fall on the front of its snout. Your hand barely covers any of the dragon, the sheer size of it massive compared to you but its scales are coarse and rough beneath the soft touch of your fingers.

Then, ever so slightly, you watch as its eyes fall shut and he pushes, gently, toward your hand.

“Oh,” you call softly, “nice to meet you too, dragon. My name is Y/N.”

It lets out a gruff, and you pull back with a laugh as it shakes its head.

“His name is Kirishima.”

A yelp leaves your lips as you spin, eyes falling on that of Bakugou who’s stood in front of you.

Panic strikes you, worried he’ll be mad you left his castle or worse, that you even left his room. Swallowing thickly, you step towards him, hands held out before you; “my K-King, I-I–”

“He normally doesn’t like new faces,” Bakugou cuts in gently, sending you a smile as he steps forward, turning his head towards the dragon. He reaches forward and the dragon, Kirishima, nudges its snout towards Bakugou, knocking into him far more aggressively than he had you. Bakugou barely nudges, staying strongly rooted to the spot as he pats Kirishima, before letting his eyes fall back on you.

“My King, I just wanted to get some fresh air, I–”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Bakugou assures, “everything within the castle is yours.”

Every tense muscle in your body eases, shoulders falling with disbelief.

“I wanted to introduce you to Kirishima,” Bakugou continues, smiling over at his dragon. “We’ve known each other since we were children. He’s very important to me.”

Letting your eyes fall on Kirishima, you flush; “and you wanted to introduce him to me?”

“Of course,” Bakugou assures with ease, nodding. “Isn’t it normally to share these things with your wife?”

Biting your lip, you glance at your feet; “I wasn’t sure you still… thought of me that way…”

Bakugou frowns, “I apologize for disappearing for a few days. I was preparing a surprise for you.”

Turning to him, surprised, your lips part; “a surprise?”

“Yes,” he smiles gently at you. “For tonight. Mina will help you prepare as well.”

“A picnic?”

Bakugou’s cheeks are bright red as he stares back at you.

“Do you not like it?”

Gathering your skirt, you shake your head, moving to sit in front of Bakugou. You’d wondered why Mina had dressed you in such light, airy clothes, a pretty pale pink colour as she fretted over making sure your hair was back and out of your face. It made sense now, you realize, that she’d gone to such lengths.

All for a picnic Bakugou had prepared.

“I love it,” you admit with a gentle smile, voice still quiet as you nod at him. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Mina helped me,” he explains, looking entirely too uncomfortable for something that was his plan. He’s sat across from you, one knee up which he rests his arm on, but his face is still burning red and it’s like he can’t meet your gaze properly as he explains. “I know nothing about wooing a woman.”

Before you know it, you’re laughing.

Bakugou’s eyes snap to yours, turning red even further (if that was even possible) as you quickly press your hands to your lips, trying to muffle the giggle.

It doesn’t help.

“Are you laughing at me?” Bakugou asks incredulously, eyes bulging.

You shake your head, despite how blatant of a lie that is. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, biting your lip as you smile over at him. “It’s just… are you trying to woo me?”

Pausing, Bakugou meets your eyes before quickly turning away. “Maybe,” he mutters, before his shoulders fall. “Yes. Is it working?”

Leaning forward, you shift, brushing your skirt under you as you get more comfortable. “Yes,” you assure. “I just didn’t expect that. Most men would’ve just married me, regardless of whether I wanted to or not.”

Bakugou stares at you. “Is that how it’s like with your people?”

You glance at the array of food, pleasantly happy when you recognize a few fruits you used to love as a little girl–it’s been ages since you’ve been allowed to taste the sweetness of a strawberry.

“Yes,” you explain, as if it’s normal. “If I were… not an illegitimate daughter, I probably would’ve been arranged to marry a few years ago.”

You pause, however, when you see the look of bafflement on Bakugou’s face.

“I mean,” you start, slowly. “That’s why my step-mother reached out to you, remember?”

You watch as Bakugou swallows thickly. “I didn’t know until I got there and I-I… well, what I said… I didn’t mean it.”

Your brows furrow before it clicks in your mind.

I was promised a bride. I intend to have one.

Lips parting, you blink at him owlishly.

“I wouldn’t ever force you to marry me.”

Hands moving to fall in your lap, you force yourself to utter the words; “and… if I said I wanted to?”

Bakugou shifts; “marry me?”

You meet his eyes nervously, nodding. “Yes.”

“Then… I’d say… I’d love to.”

The instant relief that floods you is comforting, the smile curling onto your face once more at his reassurance. “I would be honoured,” you grin over at him, “I’ve felt that way since you took me with you.”

Reaching forward, Bakugou takes your hand in his own; “it’s I who feels honoured.”

You were dressed in a beautiful white gown, decorated with lace and delicate designs sewn into the material. It cinched at the waist and reached the floor, with a trail that followed behind you. Your hair had been twisted and braided and pulled up into a hairstyle similar to the ones you used to wear as a little girl.

It was exactly like the style you’d grown up with and completely different from the Adrogharian traditions you’ve grown accustomed to. The only thing missing was the makeup across the face but you hadn’t argued when Mina had purposely avoided applying any–it brought both comfort and despair to you, staring back at your reflection through the mirror in front of you.

You… felt beautiful.

More than you ever had.

And it reminded you of home–of your childhood and brought a sense of comfort and familiarity to those early years of your life when your father had still been alive, memories of things you didn’t all together remember given how young you were but was a sense of nostalgia you rejoiced in. Before it had all been stolen from you cruelly and your step-mother had made it her goal to ruin you.

In that way, at the same time, it also reminded you of everything that had been stolen from you the second he’d died.

It was bittersweet and yet, it was the sweetest, kindest thing any single person had ever done for you and you cherished it.

“Are you ready?”

Turning to Mina, you nod.

You're led out of the room and down a few halls, until eventually the warm night air surrounds you. The sight before you astonishes you. Rows and rows of Bakugou’s men, all split in the middle where a path of flowers lay and at the end of it rests Bakugou, adorned in a regal shirt and trousers, so opposite of his normal attire. It looks odd on him in the same way he looks incredibly handsome.

And the realization sinks in then.

This is your wedding.

It had come to mind before given the dress but you weren’t sure, especially since Bakugou had talked about it but never beyond that initial conversation. You also figured that the wedding would be done in Adrogharian tradition.

This though? Made everything clear.

You turn to look at Mina who smiles brightly at you, clasping your arm in her own as she slowly starts to lead you down the aisle. Everyone’s eyes are on you, watching you but your attention is solely focused on Bakugou standing in front of you, hands clasped in front of him as he watches you grow closer and closer.

And then, suddenly you’re in front of him.

“Is… all this for me?” You whisper, clasping at your skirt nervously.

“Yes,” he nods, slowly, a nervous expression crossing his face. “Is… is it too much?”

You shake your head; “no,” you smile gently, “no this is… perfect.”

“Good.” His face eases instantly, and then, he tugs at the collar of his shirt. “Because this shirt is incredibly itchy and I’m wearing it for you.”

Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. It bursts from your lips, your hand instantly raising to cover your mouth as you giggle, glancing down at your feet. Bakugou stares at you as you laugh, never having heard the sound before, before he reaches forward, tilting your head upward by the chin.

He’s smiling gently down at you, his gaze the softest you’ve ever seen.

“Shall we get married?”

His touch is gentle–hesitant.

You can hear every breath he takes as you stare up at him, hands hovering before yourself.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he whispers, using his arm to hold himself up. You’re splayed across his bed, the sleeve of your wedding dress slipping down the side of your shoulder, revealing bare skin that stares up at him mockingly.

He wants you–but he won’t force you.

Pressing your hands against his chest, you try to ignore the shake of your body; “it’s not… that I don’t want to,” you confess despite the flush across your cheeks and the heat soaring through your body. “I just… I’m afraid.”

“Of me?”

And his voice comes out quiet, scared. You barely catch it but it’s there, eyes flickering up to meet him as he stares back at you, concern etched into his face.

“No,” you assure, shaking your head. “No, not of you.”

He leans back, shifting so he’s sat back and you follow his movements, pushing yourself up to face him properly. Your hands fall limp in your lap as you stare down at them, clutching at your skin tightly as nerves well inside of you, make your chest tighten and your body tense with anxiety.

“Then…”

“My K-King–”

“Katsuki,” he cuts in, reaching for you. “Call me Katsuki.”

You pause. “Katsuki… before you, I'd never known love.” The words are uttered with pain, hands moving to hold yourself as you turn away from him, embarrassed. But you wanted him to know. Wanted him to understand. “My father died when I was just a little girl and the second he was gone, my mother spent the rest of my life torturing me. I was tucked away, kept hidden from people while she beat me, starved me and told me how I would�� never measure up to anything.

“The day you came, she had every intention of selling me to you as a bargain piece for the safety of herself. And she expected you to kill me.”

Licking your lips, you turn to face him.

“That or worse.”

He stares at you, lips left parted with the hesitance of uncertainty.

“I expected the same,” you whisper, “but now I know you’re not like that. That you’re not some ruthless, barbaric man but you have a heart and your people love you. You’ve given me more happiness than I’ve ever felt and made me feel love for the first time since my father died… I’m not scared of you, I’m scared that once you see me–truly see me, I’ll lose you.”

There’s a beat of silence before Bakugou is leaning towards you. His hands fall on your waist and suddenly you’re falling back against the bed with a light huff of shock, eyes flickering up to meet his own that hover above you. He’s smiling, you realize, but there’s anger in his eyes–yet, it’s not directed at you.

There’s rage burning in his irises and you feel safe because of it.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he confesses. “The second I saw your face that day, my world lit up. I want to kill every person who’s ever hurt you, if I haven’t already. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to make you forget about everything.”

You feel your heart quicken, his words echoing in your mind as you stare up at him and see only sincerity staring back at you.

His words are warm and loving and they make you feel like your skin is on fire, a lit with a sensation you’ve never felt. Love pours from his words and he stares at you like you’re the only person that matters–that you're the only person who exists in this world for him.

He envelopes you completely and you relish in it.

“Nothing could ever make me think otherwise.”

Reaching up, you cup his cheeks, fingers brushing against the skin before holding him, the edges of your lips quirked up with a soft, gentle smile..

“You really mean that?”

He nods, thumbs pressing into the pads of your hips, as his eyes dance across your face. “More than anything.”

“Okay then,” you laugh lightly, “then I give myself to you.”

He blinks, lips parting.

“Everything.”

And the surprise fades, replaced by pleasure as he leans forward, the ghost of his lips brushing against your own.

“And I give you the same in return.”

#mha #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou fluff #barbarian!bakugou #barbarian!bakugou x reader

1K notes · View notes

prettyboykatsuki · 12 days

Note

I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

#return to sender #writing tag #fujoverse #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #THIS IS KIND OF COOKING ME TO DEATRH IM?

547 notes · View notes

dadsbongos · 6 months

Text

ANOTHER ONE

fucking stupid part 2 i did for my yuuji fic for ao3 :) and decided to post here lol

2.1 K words

warnings - 18+ mdni !!, pwp, penis IN vagina, thigh fucking, tummy bulge (+pressin on it), minor headlock action, yuuji is hesitant but not NOT into it, a lot of drool, mentions of sukuna's cannibal past (not sexified)

Yuuji excels at the single most important tenet of being a boyfriend.

Compromise.

A giver at heart and selfless and so, so loving, he practically bends to your every whim - something Nobara and Megumi love teasing him over. Yes, he would crab walk over glass if you so much as asked, but he will not bend to this.

“I don’t trust you,” Yuuji is stubborn on this, and this alone.

“I’m the reason you’re with her!” the red eye stabs him through your bathroom mirror, “You forget that, vermin!”

“You’re literally in my body,” he sighs, “And keep your voice down, I don’t want her hearing us argue,” at the unimpressed stare Sukuna levels him with, Yuuji only sighs louder, “I don’t know why you even think she’ll want you.”

“I know her body more than you could ever hope to, worm,” if Sukuna notices the way Yuuji huffs, he certainly doesn’t let it be known, “Studied it to perfection years ago, and spent my time in solitude remembering every detail. Every stretch mark and curve and swell of fat - I know her body better than you. I know it.”

Well, he was stubborn on this.

“Be nice,” Yuuji grips the smooth counter of your sink, he could never hold out against you and your batting lashes and sweet voice, “I’m taking over the second she seems upset.”

Another low-lidded, testing glare from Sukuna, and Yuuji shakes his head before throwing the bathroom door open.

“Well?” your fingers lace together in your lap, bottom lip tight between your teeth.

Centuries ago, in different bodies, the two of you were in this same position - with a different question on your lips.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Sukuna had settled in beside you, the tatami mat squishing beneath his heavy weight and he still towered over you, “Speak up.”

“Well,” you leaned back, head falling against your pillow and fluttering your lashes up at Sukuna, “Would you eat me?”

Rolling over, Sukuna planted a knee between your legs with two arms holding himself from crushing you, the remaining two curled around your waist, “How do you mean, hm?”

Reaching a hand up, your soft palm cradled the unhardened side of his face, giggling when his tongue lolled against the tip of your thumb, “You know how I mean.”

He did. It’s something you’d mentioned since falling into poor health - a stiff question that leaves his heart cold and skin raised. When he should’ve been used to this. He was. He’d eaten many people before you and, even then, he was certain he'd eat many people after you. You’d fed him. You’d helped Uraume cook his meals. You were used to this.

Sensing his hesitation, you slid your hand from his cheek to ghost your fingertips over his lips. Kissing the pads of your fingers, Sukuna’s lids were low as he stared down at you - and he knew the answer you didn’t want to hear.

“It’d be an honor,” you cooed, because of course you already knew which way he was leaning, “To be with you like that. Forever.”

“Greedy,” he teased, slipping from his knees to sit back. He scooped you up with his hold around your waist to settle you atop his lap, his other two hands cupped your cheeks. Your own hand moved down to the base of his throat, fingers tracing the bridge of his collarbones, “Eating you would be a disservice to this beautiful body.”

The word is nourishing, spring water on a dry tongue. You used to fear a long, drawn-out death (not death, not around Sukuna), you’ve seen these same sunken eyes and shaking hands in others. And you did not find them awe-inspiring. But Sukuna has given you no question if his eyes still fell upon you kindly.

You frowned and he scoffed, “You won’t even think about it?”

But Yuuji has no idea about any of that.

Yuuji sits beside you and takes your hands tightly between his, “I can always come back.”

“I know!” you lean in and kiss his cheek sweetly, “I’m just curious.”

Because there has to be something Sukuna can offer if he insists on maintaining this obsession with you (in front of your boyfriend, no less).

…

“Are you nervous, bunny?”

Your heart beats in your throat. Your palms soak into the sheets when you grip them. Your bottom lip is on the brink of bleeding between your teeth. But no, no you are not nervous.

No matter how much you probably should be. And no matter how much it should’ve taken, Sukuna doesn’t take long to put you on your back - lips locked to yours. He cackles cruelly when you huff after he pulls away.

Sukuna binds your knees together, plush thighs trapped against one another. Releasing one knee just to feed his cock through the wetted spot between your thighs, he quickly flushes his chest against the back of your thighs. Both arms winding around your legs to keep them shut around him.

“So wet from just a little kissing,” he stares down at where the head of his cock peeks out, kissing your clit on the way. He fucks your thighs slowly, taking earnest joy in how you whine.

Your teeth sink into the back of your hand at the sensation of Sukuna parting your lips and bumping your clit with his dick. He groans, deep in the back of his throat, when he can feel that gush of slick from your cunt.

“I knew this brat couldn’t care for my bunny as I can,” he slips from between your thighs entirely to press his tip inside you. Your chest rises in a quick gasp, jerking at the intrusion, “You missed me,” he states simply, settling his weight on his elbows beside your head as he teases slow thrusts, “Cunt’s sucking me back in,” he snickers at your squeaking as his hips speed up, “You missed me so much.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. But you can’t call him on it when he’s clawing at your sides and thighs to flip you onto your stomach, perking your hips snugly against his.

“I’ve seen him,” his hand presses against your lower belly, thrusting down and deep and hitting that spot Yuuji magically detects and obsesses over - that spot that makes drool humiliate the corners of your lips, “That brat abusing your poor clit. Like you can’t cum without it.”

“Huh…” your mushy brain barely registers the disrespect to your boyfriend, “hey…!”

“Do you wanna show him I can fuck you better?” despite that questioning lilt, you don’t think a response could change his pre-determined mind, “I can make you cum without setting a fire between your legs.”

He pulls out slow and miserable, smoothing the hand not on your tummy down your back and curling into your hair.

Sukuna leans his weight into you when he bottoms out, he laughs watching your cheek smush against your mattress. He laughs as his hand untangles from your hair to squeeze around the soft fat of your hip. He laughs when you wheeze with the springs as he pulls out and thrusts back in, rolling his hips flush against you.

“What a good bunny I have,” he coos, slicking his hot tongue over the exposed flesh of your neck, relishing in how his skin audibly pap, papa, paps against yours. You moan, lightheaded, and your forehead hangs into your pillow. He presses on that spot where he bulges inside you, going mad over the choked gasp in your throat, “My sweet bunny.”

Curling an arm around your throat, Sukuna’s muscles squeeze around the soft flesh of your neck. Desperately, the skin of his chest clings to your back as he leans down, teething at the sensitive spot on your shoulder - the one Yuuji bites and the one he bit for himself centuries ago. Licking the sweat from your body and cackling as you squirm under the slick, wet run of his tongue.

His hips quicken, borderline battering that spot in your cunt to really make you messy. You bury your face into the soft pillow, but Sukuna ‘tsk’s and undoes the arm from your neck to lift your chin. He licks up the drool from your lips and swallows the pitchy moans he’s been starving for from behind Yuuji’s ears.

He consumes you, melding your skin to his and ensuring you cannot leave again.

“Good- “ he grits it between clenched teeth, “girl! Good girl. Good girl,” he grunts each word between thrusts. He groans, thick and gravelly, digging his nails into your soft skin, “My best fucking girl.”

Your face is on fire, the backs of your thighs clinging to Sukuna’s, and the wetness of your cunt stringing between the both of you. Loud, sloppy echoes of that wetness only make the fire burn hotter. You whine, hands scrambling back and clinging to Sukuna’s thighs, nails biting into the thick muscle.

“Aw, you’re squeezing me,” Sukuna refuses to slow down, bouncing your body on his cock from behind, “Are ya gonna cum, bunny?”

And any respect you were trying to maintain for your out-of-commission boyfriend is quickly tossed aside, “Yes! Yes, ‘m gonna cum, Sukuna…!”

“You want me to make you cum?” he reaches both hands down and takes hold of your face, fingers dipping into your open mouth, “Say it, bunny - fuck - say you want me to make you cum.”

As best you can through his fingers parting your lips and pressing on your tongue, you cry, “Please, Sukuna- please, please make me cum. Wanna cum, wanna cum with you, need you to make me cum…!”

“Need me,” Sukuna repeats, palms soft against you despite bullying his cock into your weepy hole, “Need me, need me, need me…”

“Uh… huh,” you whine, the coil in your stomach eats at itself and your thighs shake, “Need you, Sukuna! Need - hah! - need… cum, please!”

“Cum for me, bunny,” he teases his fingers further into your throat, just to see if you’ll remember.

“God- fuck!” your hands cinch around his thighs just as your cunt does to his cock, tugging him closer, deeper as you finally soak him in your cum. Chanting his name with a sugary, soft, “Sukuna! Sukuna! Sukuna!”

You don’t seem to recognize it, the need to cum overshadowing the need to meld your bodies into one.

His cock spits hot cum in your tight, sucking cunt despite the realization. He keeps himself pressed against you, dragging his fingers from your mouth and circling his arms around your soft waist.

Sukuna rolls onto his back, pulling you on his chest and letting his softening cock slip from you. He peppers your raw, marked shoulder in tender kisses - then moving to your neck - then your cheek. He feels your cheeks ball up in a grin under his attention.

Your ditzy head falls against his shoulder and he doesn’t know how much longer he has like this. So he ignores the cooling saliva on his fingers and the mixed cum flowing from your hole and onto his thigh. He never minded the mess before, and he certainly doesn’t mind it now.

“Don’t forget me, hm?” you blink up at him drowsily, “If you ever get tired of that brat.”

You don’t remember asking him to gobble you up, and you don’t remember wanting to clutch his hand in your final moments, but you still see something in him. Something he thought was sealed away long, long ago.

He misses you. Whatever life you shared, he hasn’t been able to mourn.

Giggling, you nod and kiss his cheek. He slips hair from your hair and studies the way you flutter into sleep. Commits it to his memory and lets Yuuji take back the body with little more than a scoff.

You rouse later in the night, feeling your bed dip beside you, a thick warm arm sweeping you into an equally warm chest. A steady heartbeat ba-dumps into your ear. You nestle into the cradle.

“Cleaned ya and then showered,” Yuuji murmurs, lips soft against your forehead, “I take it you liked the big guy?”

Snorting, you nod sluggishly, cheek sticking to his skin, “Mhmm.”

“Good,” he suddenly groans, “Sukuna doesn’t know anything!”

“Mh?”

“I can make you cum without your clit,” he pouts, looking down at you despite your closed eyes, “You believe in me, right, babe?”

“Mhm.”

“Exactly. Thank you!” he kisses your forehead this time, “Alright, we’ll try that another day. Get some sleep already, jeez!”

“Hm!” you huff fitfully.

“Okay, okay,” he whispers, “Shutting up now.”

And, for now, you ignore how right it felt to have Sukuna’s mean fingers fucking your mouth.

~~~

people i think will be into this @moonlitdivination @kingofthe-egirls

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #yuuji x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you

1K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

hi! could you be able to please write a one shot with James Potter where he lets everyone know that he has a girlfriend and he's taken but nobody knows who is his girlfriend. And after he falls off his broom during a quidditch match turns out that his girlfriend its the slytherin captain, who is like the complete opposite of James lol

Hi lovely, thanks for your request! I hope you like it <3

Cw: mention of injury, no details/description

James Potter x slytherin!reader ♡ 740 words

James Potter is well aware that, considering his usual tendency to showboat, it's suspicious that his dating life has suddenly become the best-kept secret at Hogwarts. It's obvious he is dating someone. He hasn't exactly been inconspicuous with the notes he sends flying down the halls several times a day (though it's a small miracle no one has been able to chase them all the way to the recipient) and when he wouldn't tell Sirius who it was, his friend let slip to half of Gryffindor house that he'd caught James sneaking out of their dorm room three times in the past week. Soon, it seemed like all James' classmates did was buzz with speculation about his mysterious partner.

James is trying to ignore that speculation now, the chatter in the crowded stands somehow reaching him even far above the quidditch pitch, distracting him from looking out for the snitch.

"Hardly at the top of our game today, are we, Potter?" A snide voice calls, a blur of green blazing past him to lob the quaffle towards the center goalpost.

James perks up, brought back to the game by the familiarity of a good bickering. "Wishful thinking," he calls back, just as the Gryffindor keeper blocks your attempt at a goal. James meets your fierce stare with his most winning smile. "Maybe if I wasn't, you'd have a half-decent chance of beating us for the first time in three years."

Three years, he wants to add, since both of you had been made captain of your respective teams. James certainly isn't going to lose that winning streak because of any gossip. He redoubles his focus, waiting for a telling glint of light or the light buzzing of wings, and keeping an eye on the Slytherin seeker to make sure she hasn't spotted it either.

There's a flicker of movement to his right, and James is off, the ruckus of the crowd drowned out by the wind rushing past his ears as he races towards the snitch. His vision seems to narrow as it grows closer, all his attention on the tiny golden ball, and he can almost touch it when pain shoots through his side.

James tries to grab at his broom, but he's too slow, his hand wrapping around only air. He's on solid ground before he knows what's happened, splayed on his back with a view of the other players high above him, almost all shock-still. Almost, except for the Slytherin chaser in a dangerously fast nose-dive towards him. You hardly take the time to level out your broom before you're hopping off and crouching beside him.

"Potter—shit, Potter, are you okay?" Your hands tremble as they run over his arms, his torso, as if wanting to make sure he's still whole but afraid he'll shatter at anything more than your gentlest touch.

"I think so." James groans, sitting up. "A couple broken ribs, maybe."

"Shit," you pant, your hands moving to his face. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I'm a bit rattled at the moment," he says, beginning to snark, but he softens when he sees you're blinking back tears. "It's not bad, sweetheart. I'm alright."

You shake your head, somewhere between frustrated and fond, and press your lips to James' abruptly. He's so shocked it takes him a second to kiss you back, doing his best to soothe the desperation he can feel in your touch.

You pull back just as quickly, leaving James so dazed he's caught entirely off guard by the light smack you deliver to the back of his head.

"You idiot. You should have seen that bludger coming from a mile away."

James searches for a witty rebuttal, but comes up empty. He can't decide whether to be offended or charmed by you right now, and it's stolen the gall from him. It's also possible that he's concussed. "Yeah," he says dumbly.

You huff, but still squeeze his shoulder as you stand, letting Madam Hooch move in to take your place. "Idiot," you mumble again, stalking towards your broom. "Come see me later."

James watches you go with something akin to awe. Only after you've rejoined your teammates does he notice the hush that's fallen over the crowd, and Sirius, standing well within hearing distance and looking like he's been stupefied, his eyes wide with horror.

But even if James looks as whipped as he feels, he doesn't really care.

1K notes · View notes

temptaetions · 2 months

Text

angel eyes 🪽 b.cc (m)

a/n: the photo above is from stray kids' skz magic school shoot. i don’t own the media. i clearly got carried away writing this, because it's so long. however, i hope you guys enjoy it. obviously none of this is real...so does accuracy matter?

✩ spellbound secrets series m.list

✩ synopsis: you’ll think you’re in paradise, and one day you’ll find out he wears a disguise, don’t look too deep…

✩ genre: idiots to lovers | love epiphany au | teacher x student

✩ pairing: ??? b.cc x fem!compassion conjurer!reader

✩ word count: 21.6k | lowercase intended.

✩ rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

✩ warning(s): quite a few time skips. minor character death, mentions of a car accident, semi descriptive. y/n has a scar across her body (not self inflicted, how it was inflicted is not described), both y/n and chan have unresolved issues with love, chan's kind of a dick in the beginning. swearing, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of blood, y/n has a medical episode, once more horribly written smut [between b.cc x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, oral (f. receiving...he starts eating it thru the panties LOL), so much kissing, some (nude) grinding, missionary (because i'm an emotional bitch), light nipple play (clothed), crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, some biting, light choking (m. receiving), a bit of alluding to sex as 'extra credit' and subtly feeding the professor x student power dynamic]. (more information about y/n: she glows, kind of like a glowstick, and she can float around instead of walking.)

✩ what to listen to: angel eyes - abba | the chain - fleetwood mac | bodyache - purity ache | if it isn't love - new edition | cherish the day - sade

tuesday – november 02.

it's slow, the fall. it feels like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement.

he's been lost before - in grocery stores, not understanding assignments. shit, he's even been lost in the woods before. he knows what it's like to be lost, physically. he knows what it's like to not know what his emotions mean, either, so that also counts in his book.

but this? this feeling that he's just wandering the world? not knowing where his purpose lies, or what he's meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose? this is a feeling of damn near disorientation, isolation, off fucking course. it's all the same anyway. everything is the same, nearly everyday.

he wakes up, brushes his teeth. greets changbin and hyunjin at the table for breakfast, and gets ready for the day. goes to class, daydreams. he comes home, has lunch with jisung sometimes, and goes to the gym with changbin at seven-thirty. every few fridays, he'll go to one of the university baseball games, cheering on seungmin and jisung while sharing nachos with his ex-fling, sooyoung, and her best friend (who so happened to be seungmin's former girlfriend.) then, he's home again, he showers, he sleeps for a few hours.

every. single. day.

he gets bored, but reminds himself he needs to find peace in the routine. it's all he knows – he doesn't know what's keeping him here, but he's aware it's something. everyone knows it's something, but have no answers for him. he's sought after so many master sorcerers across all dimensions, begging to find an end to his equation, but to no avail.

he has no idea who he is, or what purpose he serves, and he pretends he's okay with it. he soothes by saying that not all can be known.

he pretends it's fine as he goes through his days, as he goes to class, as he talks to girls. he doesn't feel much of anything when he does these things, but the women he speaks to certainly do. they grin from ear to ear, like cheshire cats, when they get a moment to speak to the uncertainty that is bang chan.

but, it's fine. he's fine, it's really not a big deal.

he's in his last year of grad school, hoping to just bury himself in his studies to stop the feeling of impending doom. normally, you open up shop right after undergrad. you offer your services, barter for goods, sometimes get paid in a goat and two chickens instead of money. so many of his friends have already done so, relishing in the satisfaction that is being a sorcerer and mastering their craft.

what the fuck is he supposed to do? study until his fingers fall off and his brain becomes putty?

"i dunno, man. you could become a genius." jisung spoke around a mouthful of blueberries, and chan grimaced. "what? i'm bulking up!" shaking his head, chan closed his notebook. shoving it into his bookbag, he sighs. "i don't think i want to know everything there is to know, ji."

"doesn't knowing everything you need to know, start with knowing yourself?" minho teases from across the table, winking at jisung over his coffee cup. the younger boy nearly chokes, getting a whack across the back to aid in not seeing god. "don't flirt with him, he'll have an aneurysm." "hey!" jisung sputters, but the three of them know it's true. how jisung was the campus' playboy, no one would ever know. chan didn't even know if jisung could read when they first met. "you know it's true, ji. i gotta head out, i have a night class this semester with professor y/l/n, i finally got my schedule fixed. changbin is going to hate me because i'm going to miss the gym every tuesday and thursday." chan groans as he swings his bag over his shoulder, and the two men watch as he slides his headphones on, walking out of the library.

he's insufferable lately, and they don't know why. they assume he needs to kiss someone, preferably sooner rather than later.

"you think the poor guy knows what he's in for?" minho mumbles, closing his textbook. jisung shakes his head, popping another blueberry in his mouth. "i hear she's ruthless. i mean, if i was an anomalistic prodigy with gorgeous thighs like hers, i would be, too." "shut up, you can't even kill spiders."

your classroom is surprisingly cozy as he strolls in. the lights are dimmed, and there are blankets draped across many chairs. he looks around, spotting a green couch in the back. raising his eyebrows, he makes a beeline for it, hearing other people start to trickle in.

setting up his laptop on the table before him, he lets his eyes wander.

the walls are plastered with entomology posters, and he scrunches his nose as he sees a taxidermied praying mantis on your desk. he remembers what you said in your speech at your commencement ceremony – "the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide. a guide for those who needed direction, and my god, have i needed it. life truly does go on and i am further amazed by how deeply it fills me with joy to stand here before you. the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide, and i am so honored to be the mantis that prays for you."

you were the university's little treat, their trophy to parade. their only compassion conjurer and possessor of the will to practice benevolent magic. you cared of nothing more but to help those around you, you never said no. you never denied yourself to be utilized to find peace. he admired you, but not really. it was twisted, but he thinks you should…help yourself. he believes you should be selfish, at least once in a while.

he didn't really know you, but he hadn't expected to, either. you seemed like you were constantly on the go. you floated about, sort of like a ghost. your hands often clasped behind your back, a warm golden glow surrounding you. he'd heard from some people that they've seen it change color, but he never has.

but again, he didn't know you.

"chan!"

the voice whips him out of his thoughts, and he looks up to see yugyeom. he smiles, reaching his hand out for a dap from his oldest friend. "hey! how have you been? still on the baseball team?" "nah, i quit after i started dating doyeon. apparently, she has quite the track record with the team." he whistles, pulling out his laptop as he slides on the couch. "you quit the team for a girl?" chan questions, and yugyeom gives him a shy smile.

"she's not just any girl, chan. i think…she could be the one." he shrugs, a blush coating his cheeks as chan bumps his shoulder. "aww, that's so gross."

"shut up. what happened with you and sooyoung? did you guys break it off?" yugyeom takes a sip of his water, and chan nods as he sees more people walk in and take their seats. "yeah, we stopped fucking around. i wasn't as emotionally invested as she was, and i felt awful for it but we ended on good terms. i'm just not ready for a relationship and i should have made that clear. that was months ago, though, and we're fine." he shrugs, and feels an odd shiver down his spine. he shakes it off, continuing the casual conversation with yugyeom.

the door opens, and they both stop talking to look up. you're floating in gracefully, dark hair framing your face, a few scattered gold strands sprouting at the crown of your head. a bit like a halo, really. long, wine red nails reach for the light switch, dimming the lights even lower.

"good evening, everyone. eyes up front, please." your voice is softer than at your ceremony, but just as confident. you're looking around, your glow dimming lightly as your eyes stop in his direction. chan's eyes flicker to yugyeom, who is smiling at his phone, thumbs typing rapid fire. shaking his head, he looks up at you, your gaze on yugyeom. chan bumps his foot, and his head shoots up. your eyes are slightly amused, "you're paying for this class. i suggest you pay attention." "sorry." he slides his phone in his jacket, and chan bites back a laugh as he clicks his pen. smiling, you redirect your attention. "welcome to identity theory! i'm professor y/l/n, but you guys can call me y/n. you might already know me, as i'm the university's only compassion conjurer, and that is exactly why i'm teaching this class." you hold up the syllabus, and begin walking around to pass them out.

"this is an extension course to the one you took in undergrad, self-discovery 101. here, we are going to further delve into ourselves, and figure out who we are outside of our powers, or what purpose they serve. i like to focus on eudaimonic theory, but if you guys have any others you want to talk about, i'm open for discussion. i also want to apologize for starting the class so late in the year. i promise the workload isn't much, i was just having a hard time deciding if i wanted to teach this class. i wouldn't be doing much soul searching with you guys, i'm already the trophy wife of the administration."

he likes your voice. it's smooth, unwavering even as you apologize and joke, even as you let your feet touch the ground. he feels his chest grow hot as you graze everyone's table with your fingers, a soft chatter beginning amongst the students. he's not nervous, but you're very commanding. he likes the way you grab attention, despite it now seemingly about to be directed to someone in the room.

"your eyes are very pretty." you stop in front of him, and the class grows quiet. you look down at him, the soft light around you a little brighter. he feels his cheeks flush, as he nods in confusion. "do they glow brighter the more i make you nervous?" you tease, and he looks away.

"cute." you slide his syllabus in front of him, and he takes it with a soft thank you.

his eyes were the only thing that gave him that something that people always mentioned. they swirled, every now and again, the brown glowing slightly violet at their own will. nobody knew what it was, but it seemed to take your interest. you move forward with the lecture, not even attempting to hide the subtle boredom in your voice as you go over the syllabus.

"i will see you all on thursday! have a safe night!" you cheer, and the students seem to bask in your happiness as you let them out of the room. you float about, and catch chan at the tail end of the gaggle of students. "you, pretty eyes."

his headphones are in the way, and you place your hand on his arm. his skin is warm to the touch, and he jumps at the contact before turning around, sliding them off. "oh, i'm sorry. did you need me?" "i just wanted to say, i hope my teasing didn't make you uncomfortable. sometimes it just slips out." you smile, and you notice one..two dimples make their presence on his cheeks. "don't worry, it's alright. is that all?" "no, actually." you hold up his file, and he seems to know exactly what's coming. "i don't know my abilities, if that's what you're going to ask. and i won't answer any questions about my parents, that's also in there."

his eyes hold something heavy, and you notice your glow dim as he speaks. if he does, he doesn't mention it. "alright, then i guess that's it. i'm sorry if i disturbed some emotional blockage." your brows furrow lightly, and he raises his own.

"whatever." he mumbles, and slides his headphones back on. he walks away, and you feel your lips tug into a frown. you wonder what his problem is as you walk back into your classroom, sliding the file into your desk drawer.

"you try and make a classroom a home."

thursday – november 12.

from: [email protected]

hello, chan. this is professor y/l/n. i noticed you didn't show up to class last thursday, tuesday, or tonight.

i took it upon myself to look into your file again, with permission from the administration. i want to apologize for the sudden hot seat on tuesday after class, i was unaware of your situation and just wanted some insight. i can see how this made you uncomfortable, and i am sorry for causing said discomfort. i want you to be able to enjoy my class, and hopefully we can traverse that journey together.

that being said, i have come up with a new assignment for you, for the time being. since you don't really know what your specialties are, i can't grade based on performance or any papers delving into how they affect your life, personality, etc.

below is the rubric designed for this assignment. i spoke to the administration, and they're on board with this approach. if anything is too much, please don't hesitate to send me an email, or a text. my number is also below. have a good weekend!

signed,

y/n y/l/n

identity theory

spellbound institute of magic

psychology department

555-8212

he's been staring at this email for the last half hour. he even let hyunjin read over it, asking if he was seeing shit.

he'd skipped your class on thursday, and today. he didn't want to see you, so he avoided the psych hall altogether. he didn't really know how to feel as he switched tabs to the rubric you'd sent, essentially just saying you wanted an essay on how he's been coping with not being sure of his path in life.

how does he feel about it? does it bother him, and if he could pick, which abilities would he pick? his brain says the ability to never see you again, but his heart pangs as he rereads the postscript at the bottom of your email.

p.s. i am once again very sorry. i hope to see you in class on thursday, channie. - y/n

channie. ugh, his heart ached. he'd been so rude.

"you're thinking too hard." changbin sings from the living room, and chan sighs. "how would you know? you can't read minds." he rolls his eyes, shutting his laptop. changbin walks into the dining room, leaning over the back of a chair. "i know that look. the furrowed brows, the pout. you're thinking way too hard about this, and it was an honest mistake on your professor's part. you need to apologize, you grumpy bitch." "yeah, i don't really think it's a huge deal, either." hyunjin chimes in from the kitchen, and chan frowns. "you guys think i'm being overdramatic?" "i think your emotional repression is getting to you, you've been so insufferable lately. when's the last time you got laid?" hyunjin teases as he slides into a chair, and changbin wiggles his brows in agreement. "ugh, don't even." chan slumps his head against the wall. maybe seven months? he has a lot of pent up frustration. maybe not enough to write about his feelings and how annoyed it made him that you were digging into his life this early into him meeting you. what did you need to know, anyway? "isn't your professor that compassion conjurer paradigm? i heard the speech she gave at the convention last year, and i saw the photos. she's gorgeous, that glow around her all the time?" changbin whistles smoothly, and chan's stomach does a flip. he also saw the photos, but couldn't bring himself to think anything of them. he barely remembers watching your speech, too, but he certainly remembers the way your hips swayed as you walked off the stage.

he grimaces, feeling a bit gross at ogling you.

"she's fine." he shrugs, and changbin gives hyunjin a knowing look. "so, she's hot and you're into her. that's why she has you so worked up."

"i beg your finest fucking pardon, seo?" chan blinks, and hyunjin smirks. "then beg, channie. i'm sure professor y/l/n would like it if you did, she seems like the type. get on some dating apps, man. you need stress relief." chan scoffs, shoving his laptop into his backpack. "i'll be in my room, if you decide to stop talking about romancing my professor."

hyunjin and changbin snicker as chan storms off, his door slamming behind him as he flops onto his bed. sure, you were…okay. okay, you're hot. you're so fucking hot.

but, he doesn't like you. he doesn't like that you put him on the spot, and he doesn't like that you intended to ask so many personal questions right off the bat. he also doesn't like that his roommates are probably right – he probably is angry because he needs to get laid.

he groans into his pillow, fishing his phone out of his pocket. he unlocks it, opening the stupid app. "spellbound soulmates, how dumb." he mutters, unpausing his profile. he goes through it, updating photos and prompts. once he's satisfied, he goes to his deck.

left. left. left. left. right. right. left. left.

y/n, 26

compassion conjurer, benevolence magic

biography: sexy as fuck by day, sexy psych prof by night. everything you've heard is true.

interests: if your ass is phat, swipe right 🥵

his eyes widen, your smiling face staring back at him. scrolling through your profile, he sees mostly modest photos – you holding a tray of shots being the most scandalous. not a sliver of skin showing above your waist, but plenty of short skirts showing off your full thighs. you're smiling in every photo, but he can't think of anything except your lips parted, your thighs around his head. moaning his name.

alright, chris. he thinks. chill the fuck out.

he contemplates it for a bit, scrolling up and down your profile when he just shakes his head, closing the app and tossing his phone to the side. he flips onto his back, letting the pillow close around his ears.

he hates to admit it, because he doesn't know you. he doesn't dislike you, per say. but he's not very fond of your subtle insistence.

it's not necessarily your fault, but he really doesn't like talking about his family, especially his parents. only his friends know, and even then, it took all of four years to even bring it up. the fact that they're humans is a huge deal, and he can't risk their safety like that.

not to mention, admissions begged him to keep it a secret. they were toeing the line, chan being the third person in the university's history to have human parents. they knew about the world of magic, but didn't really have the abilities to take care of chan the way it was necessary.

so they didn't. they sent him to boarding school from a young age, and made it a point to frequently visit him. he sees them at least four times a year, but it's never enough time. he feels like he's missing a place to call home.

he feels so alone.

it's not your fault. and he knows he needs to apologize. he just has too much pride right now.

he hears a knock, and changbin opens the door. "hey, what are you doing? i'm going to the gym, want to come with?" chan sighs, before forcing himself out of bed.

tuesday – november 17.

he's sitting on your couch today.

legs spread, hair tucked under a cap. black, like the rest of his clothes. he looks relaxed, his fingers dancing across his laptop as yugyeom shows him something on his phone. he just nods, and you can't make out what his lips say.

you'd been feeling terrible about the events of last week, and hadn't gotten so much as an email from him. not about the assignment, not about how he clearly hates you, or even addressing your apology. you didn't understand him, but you don't know him, either.

the past three classes, you'd gotten to know your students. minnie, soyeon and shuhua were your favorite (and only) group, giggling in the corner over their laptops. they were all herbomancers, and you could tell simply based on how giggly they were. they chatted, and last thursday, shuhua was so high she just sat against her chair and stared into the abyss. you found it a little funny, when soyeon and minnie would have to drag her out of your class.

mingyu was a constant flirt, and you attributed it to his matchmaking expertise. he was one of the few cupidancers on campus, and you'd seen him about before. he had the ability to entrance people, to get them high off his attention, and you often saw girls with hearts in their eyes after speaking to him. it was quite the sight, to see someone emotionally orgasm. the fact that you were his professor didn't stop him from smiling at you, making suggestive comments, overall trying to weasel into your heart. you simply played his game, making him flustered.

yugyeom was too enthralled with his phone, and his girlfriend, to complete the assignments. the fact that minnie had slid eighty dollars his way told you his spirit weaving ways were some for the books – and so did minnie – as she rambled about a party at beta tau that past weekend. "you should come sometime, y/n. you'd get so wasted but it'd be so worth it."

you liked that they felt so at ease with you, speaking to you like you were nothing special. you liked being their age, being able to relate to the crazy parties and not worry about how you'd get home the morning after. you enjoyed the intimacy of the small class, but not the coldness surrounding who you would deem your most intriguing student.

he just sits there and he looks so nice. the slope of his neck, the way his fingers bounce on the keys of his laptop. the sheen of his lips from the cherry lip balm he applies three or four times over the two hours of your class. the way your hue almost changes from gold to pink from staring at him, and you know you catch some of their eyes as it tries.

"why do you glow, y/n?" you can hear minnie's hazy voice from the back of the room, and you feel yourself a bit dimmer than usual as you fight down the feelings of lust. "i actually don't know. the master sorcerers never told me, but i know it can be several different colors. care to ask me what they mean?" you wiggle your brows, and minnie giggles.

"pink means you're turned on, huh?" mingyu calls from his seat between shuhua and soyeon, earning a smack from both of them. you chuckle as he pouts, "what? i hooked up with a compassion conjurer last year in the second dimension, forgive me for assuming." "i thought you were bitchless, gyu? what a nice surprise, loverboy." shuhua teases, and mingyu just rolls his eyes. "well, he's not wrong."

their heads whip back to you, and you're purposely glowing gold. you're glad they don't make it weird, their eyes full of glee. "i know those sex flashbacks gotta be good, y/n." minnie giggles, and sighs dreamily. "i once got one in undergrad during the ochem final. i ran out of time and failed."

you laugh, floating closer to their table. "the colors mean a lot of things. i can also change them at will, if one isn't overpowering the other. the hues and brightness also amplify how i feel, which makes it really hard to hide any of my thoughts. for example," you pause, closing your eyes. you feel the warmth of blue overtake you, and hear a soft ooh.

opening your eyes, you give a quick spin. "blue means i'm sad, disappointed, or at ease. i rarely get this one, it usually happens when i'm with my closest friends and can act on impulse."

the quartet looks amazed as you continue to change colors, explaining them slowly.

green, for envy, and disgust. you also rarely turn this color, and it is amongst the most dim that you've ever been. pink, for lust. you say it's your favorite color, but not your favorite feeling. orange for anger, and you recall that you only turned this color when in your mother's presence, and that you hated this one. silver, for remembrance and emptiness, and they don't require an explanation as the light grows brighter, your face deepening in sadness before you shake your head.

you exhale, before letting the cold of indigo overtake you. they gasp, and you feel shivers rack your body before you can finally speak.

"this is the only one i don't understand. i can make it seem darker, too." you say calmly, eyeing the dimness of it. it glowed almost like a blacklight, and at your will, it turned a deep violet, lining your extremities in black pixels. "have you ever felt it before?" soyeon pops a piece of gum in her mouth, offering a piece to you. taking one gently, you shrug as you unwrap it.

"nope. this one feels cold, though. the others feel warmer, like a blanket. this is like, sub-zero temperatures." you slide the piece into your mouth, feeling your golden glow return as you speak. "that's so cool, though. thank you for sharing." shuhua is gazing at you, fondness riddled in her eyes. you feel your cheeks heat, as you smile.

"my pleasure. class is over in twenty minutes, so wrap up whatever it is you're doing and i might let you guys dip out early." you nod at them, floating in the direction of yugyeom and chan. looking up from your gum wrapper, you see chan looking at you intently, his eyes slightly swirling with that same violet glow from tuesday.

"hey, pretty eyes. so kind of you to grace us with your presence today." your teasing makes him grimace, a hint of annoyance flashing through his eyes. "paying for the class, might as well pay attention." he mutters, echoing the first words you said to yugyeom.

your brows furrow at his attitude, and you watch yugyeom slip away, beckoned by minnie with a piece of pink paper. chan glances at you, closing his laptop and shoving it in his bag with indignance. "why are you acting like this? i already apologized." you feel your glow flash orange, before feeling the soft tinge of blue creeping up your back. his eyes are still violet, but they've softened. "i'm just trying to help you, chan."

"i don't think you can help, when you're part of the problem." he mumbles, his gaze never moving from your eyes. you sense blue creeping up your neck, and succumb to it, letting it blaze. "how disappointing, for a teacher to try and aid you in finding your path of life." your annoyance is visible as you spin, directing your attention to the gaggle of students watching your interaction. soyeon's eyes are wide as you dismiss them, asking them to please let the door close instead of leaving it propped open.

the words aren't even out of your mouth when you hear the door slam, yugyeom pitiful eyes confirming your thoughts. they begin to stand up, heading for the door when yugyeom splits from them, circling back to you.

"don't worry about chan. he's being a dick, it's not your fault." he places a hand on your shoulder, and you give him a sad smile. "i know, yug. i know."

a soft squeeze to your shoulder and he's gone, you're alone in your room. you sigh deeply, letting the most overwhelming hue of all take over.

the same dark red you felt all those years ago, letting it overwhelm you entirely. you sink into your desk chair, letting the soft burn of grief sink into your skin. you can close your eyes and still see it, the wine color in front of you. the one that matches your nails, and on occasion, your lipstick. the one that makes you ache the most, and yearn for those who are no longer here.

you miss him.

just like you miss chan's wide eyes, not having heard the creak of the wooden door in your turmoil. he slips away.

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

later that night, you're sitting in your bathtub, letting the hot water relax your muscles. you hear your phone ping, and you reach for it.

from: [email protected]

hello, professor y/l/n. i have read your email a few times since it was sent.

i accept your apology. i also accept this assignment, and will submit it as my final project grade, as per the rubric allows.

that being said, i will not be in class on thursday due to a prior commitment. feel free to email me back with any questions you may have, only those regarding the assignment will be answered.

signed,

bang christopher chan

spellbound institute of magic

general magic

you glare at the email, and let orange flicker like the light of your limoncello candle. you made no effort to question it, simply letting it slide. you send back an automated reply, sounds good! have a good weekend.

thursday – november 19.

chan hated meeting his parents in secret.

like it were a crime, to want to see them. he hated acting like it didn’t bother him that his siblings were growing up and he didn’t know them, he didn’t know what they liked, or what they did for fun. he felt so left out of everything, but still framed the photos they sent him. he still tucked their letters in a box for safe keeping, he still yearned to be loved by them.

not that they didn’t love him, but obviously it’s hard to do so from a distance. so they sit in the middle of the forest that surrounds the university, exactly 50 miles from all civilization. they sit there, for hours, and catch up.

“any luck yet?” his father peers at chan over a steaming plate of food, and he shakes his head. “no answers yet. if i don’t find out before the end of the semester, the master sorcerers said they’d figure something out.”

his mother sighs, her spoon stirring the canteen that held her warm coffee. "it'll be alright soon, channie. have you focused on other things? maybe find a nice girl to settle down with?" his father watches as chan visibly tenses, before pulling his wife close. "jagi, maybe that's for another time." she grimaces.

"i disagree. if he's having issues with other parts of his life, he needs to put it on the back burner for a second and figure out other parts. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? the goal of life is to not let one bad thing, or one disappointing moment deter you from finding the answer to your qualms." she rolls her eyes, earning a smile from her husband.

"okay, she has a point." his father relents, and chan just shakes his head. "i'm not ready for a relationship.' "what about that girl, sooyoung?" his mother won't back down and he knows that. "moving on from my love life, i'm content. i'm fine with things, i have my friends, i have my studies. i'll get an answer eventually." he shrugs, trying not to let it show how much it gets to him.

"chan." she slides her arm across the picnic table, grasping his hand gently. "you're not happy. you can't possibly be, with all the turmoil you feel. you're like an angsty teenager who has never stepped outside his room." "yeah, well. life goes on." he mutters, and she feels her heart sink as he pulls his hand away, checking the time on his watch. "i think i'd better start heading back. i have an early day tomorrow." he's lying. they know it, but they begrudgingly allow him to bid them goodbye. they watch him

walk to his car, and flash his hi-beams as a final farewell before pulling off.

thursday - november 26.

it's been about a month since chan started taking your class.

and it's been about a month since he's been able to say a single word to you without the same tone of indignance on the tip of his tongue. seeing him look indifferent in the back of your classroom made it all the better, though, because at least now he was in class. he didn't speak to you unless you spoke to him first, but he was on time and attentive.

you liked something about him, but you didn't really know what. it's quite possible you just have a little lustful wishing for him, but it felt…weird. it felt strange, you could practically feel your skin on fire every time you glanced at him, catching his eyes every once in a while. he never held the gaze for longer than a few seconds.

as for his violet eyes, you hadn't seen them since. you saw him smile with yugyeom. you've heard him laugh, the sound so sweet to your ears. you hated that your glow was so evident when his giggle resounded in the classroom.

you thought nobody noticed, the students didn't treat you any differently than their own friends. soyeon, minnie and shuhua made it a point to start inviting you out to drinks, and mingyu flirted with you relentlessly. you simply took the interactions in stride, and smiled politely as you kept the lectures going.

but tonight? chan wasn't in class (again) so you didn't have anyone to fawn over. mingyu was front and center, and the girls gathered around him as they conspired amongst themselves. they weren't very secretive, and you could hear them giggling as you floated over.

"what's the joke? i want to laugh, too." you teased with a soft smile, and mingyu flashed you his pearly whites before turning his phone at you.

message from: doyeon

[9:03pm] hey mingyu! tell yug i'm waiting for him at the party, and bring the girls with you!

[9:04pm] see if you can convince your professor to come, too 👀 i've seen her and she's hot! maybe she can take eunwoo off our hands, i'm sick of him moping over jisoo

you chuckle, your glow brightening a bit. "you guys want me to go to a party, at a frat house, on a school night?" shuhua nods her head, a giggle falling from her lips. "c'mon, y/n! live a little, there's going to be so many cute boys there."

"yeah, y/n! plus, a little bird told me a certain purple eyed boy will be there." minnie wiggles her brows at you, and you smirk. "yeah? chan skipped my class for a party?" you glance at his empty spot on the couch, your glow dimming.

"c'mon, y/n. we all know you have the hots for him." mingyu says matter-of-factly, and you laugh. "i do not! he doesn't even speak in class, i don't know anything about him." you shrug, and mingyu smirks. "i've seen the way you look at him!" minnie chimes in, and you shake your head. "so what if you don't? he's hot and you're into that. he has nice muscles, i've seen him at the gym." mingyu sounds like he's trying to convince you, and you give him a smile before patting his shoulder. his cheeks tinge as you whisper, "are they as nice as yours?" soyeon teases mingyu as you float away, and their words stay with you as the class continues for another forty minutes. you type away at your desk as you bid them goodbye, but don't miss minnie sneaking away from her group to hand you a piece of pink paper.

"the address, in case you do want to see chan tonight." she slides it across the desk, a shy smile playing on her lips as she walks away. you glance at it, grimacing at the beta tau seal.

you sigh, pulling your phone to map the walk there from your apartment, receiving a text from your friend, jihyo.

message from: jihyo <3

[9:55pm] hey, you! come with me to a party, i want to scout for booty tonight 👀 i heard beta tau is having one

message to: jihyo <3

[9:57pm] funnily enough, i was about to text you, i got an invite. captain booty reporting for duty 🫡 wear something hot!

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

the party was already in full swing when you and jihyo arrived, pinkies linked. it was apparently a student's birthday party, a short stop on the baseball team. you didn't keep up with the university's sports, but managed to snag a piece of birthday cake in a cup (meaning you dumped the rest of the pink whitney into your cup, and a splash of lemonade) as you let jihyo roam.

"y/n, you made it! you look so hot." you hear minnie from behind you, and you swirl to see her holding onto mingyu. "hey, guys! sick party, my friend jihyo also wanted to come." you shrug, taking a sip from your cup, and minnie gives you a knowing smile.

"hey, don't worry about it. lover boy hasn't kissed anyone since he's been here." minnie moves her head in the direction behind you, and you twist to see chan holding a red solo cup and talking to another student, short with wire rimmed glasses, and a waist you could only dream of. you turn back to minnie, who just winks at you before pulling mingyu away with her.

your body twists to look at chan, trailing your eyes down his figure. he's got on a white muscle tee, and mingyu had not been lying about his body at all. his chest donned what seems to be a rosary, nestled between his pecs that bounced lightly as he laughed. a sliver of his lower stomach was visible, mostly covered by a jacket he likely took off, but the red on the lapels looked good against his skin. silver hoops looped through his lobes and if you didn't sink your teeth into him soon, you were going to combust.

you don't have a crush on chan. not in the slightest. but, you're not blind.

you decided to worm your way to the bathroom, but you didn't realize his friend had spotted you staring. nor that chan's eyes were on you now, wondering what you were doing at a party on a school night, in that short black skirt and soft, flimsy blouse – with no bra. his eyes roll, asking himself why you manage to torture him this way. your coat is long, and covers most of your thighs as you walk away. he winces at the twitch of his cock against his pants.

"professor! what are you doing here!" you hear yugyeom shout from across the room, eliciting a woo from all the people at the party. you smile, and hold up your cup. "hey, yug!"

he waves you over, and you oblige, downing the rest of your drink. "here, try this! i made it." he holds up a long, brown bottle – and you smirk, letting him pour it into your mouth. a bunch of students are watching you down this burning liquor without a second thought, a low whistle emitting from one in particular.

tall, handsome. nicely chiseled face, hair slicked back. barely dressed. slutty.

not chan.

"who invited the trophy wife of the administration? that was hot as fuck." he leans on soyeon, who huffs and shoves him off. "shut up, san."

minnie screams before you can answer. "i invited her! she's cool as fuck, drinks up and tits out for professor y/l/n! wooo!" the crowd that had formed around you took their drinks, a few girls flashing their breasts at you. you let a laugh rip through you when you spot jihyo smiling at you in the crowd before knocking back the rest of her drink. you point to the hallway, signaling you're going to continue your way to a bathroom, before you suffocate on the smell of buchanan's and cheap beer.

the house gets quieter the deeper you go, aside from soft moans coming from a linen closet, obscene wet noises making you shiver as you turn left, finding a clean bathroom. you leave the door slightly ajar as you splash cool water on your cheeks. you let it drip through your lashes before you grab for the toilet roll, only to see someone slip into the bathroom in the mirror.

"hey." chan's voice is low as you pat the toilet paper on your face, and you glance at him. "hey. skipped my class for a party, huh?" "what are you doing here?" he doesn't sound upset, moreso amused. his eyes shamelessly rake up your legs, and you give a snort in reply. "minnie invited me, and my friend jihyo wanted to scope out some ass."

"yeah?" his eyes flicker to yours in the mirror, the violet swirl evident, and you feel your thighs clench in his gaze. your glow starts to change hues, and you roll your eyes as you glow pink instead of your normal yellow. "yeah. why, channie? are you here looking for babes?" you turn, letting the liquor talk as you lean against the sink.

"would it bother you if i was?" he tilts his head, sort of like a lost puppy. you smirk, shaking your head. "why would it bother me if my student wants to get some?" "do you always play this little game with your students, professor?" he takes a step closer, and you curse yourself for glowing a little brighter, but shrug as nonchalantly as you can. "beats being uptight like professor callaghan."

"god, you're so right." he chuckles, before his hands cage you in between his body and the sink. "i bet this glow thing gets really annoying, huh?" "you have no idea." you look up into his eyes, subconsciously tucking your bottom lip under your teeth. you wonder why he’s not questioning the color change, maybe he just knows, maybe he was listening last week. you wonder how many girls he’s gotten with, and how many he’s romanced with those angel eyes of his. "you look good." he says gently, almost as if he's giving you an out. almost as if, he's nervous.

"i taste good, too." you mumble, ghosting your lips over his. you can feel your skin start to singe, but you let him kiss you anyway. you let him lift you onto the sink, parting your legs to stand between them. you let him run his hands up your plush thighs, leaning into the kiss as deep as you can without completely absorbing him.

“can’t you get in trouble for this?” chan doesn’t really care, to be honest. you can tell he doesn’t as he drags his lips down your neck, his fingers tugging your skirt up gently. “hmm, no. not me, anyway. trophy wife of the administration privileges.”

he laughs against your skin, and you give him a cheeky smile as he kisses your lips again, his thumbs gently working circles into your hips. “i don’t want to do this here. let’s find a room, yeah?” "mmm, i don't think so. students who don't participate in class don't get extra credit." you pout, patting his chest when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

message from: jihyo <3

[11:47pm] saw you dip with cutie, so i cozied up to that mingyu guy

[11:48pm] going back to his, u can get home safe?

[11:49pm] i'll turn around if u can't. bros before hoes 💪🏻

message to: jihyo <3

[11:51pm] go ahead <3 txt me deets l8r he's a massive flirt lol

you slide it back into your pocket, and chan's hands leave your skin. he quietly moves your skirt back into place, and his eyes flicker to meet yours. he doesn't look upset at your rejection, moreso a bit grateful. "you're cute. you ask too many questions, and i'm still upset with you, but you're incredibly cute."

it's just the liquor talking. he won't remember any of this, or change his behavior by tuesday. he seems to hold grudges, but you know it's really just emotional blockage. nothing you can't help with, but everything he won't let you help with.

"maybe come to class and i might let you cum in me. you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you mumble against his lips, a shiver going through his spine. "let me walk you home." he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours. you feel your stomach flip, the gesture so cute you just might let him sleep with you. you capture his lips again, sliding your hand up his chest, fingers softly wrapped at the base of his neck. his hand catches your wrist, sliding it higher.

you give it a soft squeeze as you slither your tongue into his mouth, drawing a soft groan from him. he pulls back, your lips chasing after him as he raises an eyebrow. "who's needy now, huh?" "shut up, let's go." you place a peck to his cheek, and you force your glow back to gold, albeit dimmer than normal. he has his hand on the small of your back as you exit the bathroom. he slides it around your waist, his fingers softly digging into your hip before he stops dead in his tracks. "what?"

you're whispering as you follow his eyes, seeing a blond guy in a baseball jersey staring back at him as he sneaks out of the closet you passed. a girl is gripping his hand, floating behind him. the guy turns on his heels, quickly weaving his way through the people crowding the hall, the girl giving a hazy smile as he drags her through.

"in a closet? really?" he shakes his head, and you feel his hand squeeze your waist. "sorry." "no worries. could've been us if you showed up to class." you tease as he guides you through the crowd, and you spot minnie watching you sneak your way through the people. she wiggles her eyebrows, and you just shake your head as chan opens the front door, letting you out first as he grabs his jacket from his friend.

"shit, it's colder than a witch's tits out here." you chatter, and chan quickly joins you on the porch, sliding the jacket over his arms. "it really is. which way do you live?" the walk is quiet, besides the leaves crunching under your shoes. he's close enough that his cologne meets your nose, but not close enough to where you can touch him and not be overdoing it. the taste of his lips was not enough to satiate you.

"why are you so mean to me?" you ask, not daring to look at him. he hums in response, before grabbing your shoulders, swinging his arm over you. you instinctively wrap your own around his waist, your fingers brushing the same sliver of skin you'd eyed earlier that night. you're burning up against him, and he welcomes the heat as your hips bump.

"i'm normally not this uptight." he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "i don't like answering questions about my personal life, much less my abilities. or lack thereof, rather. it was too soon when you asked, i'm still trying to figure myself out. i'm very lost in that area of my life, and if i don't find out soon, i'm not sure how i'll make a living. please don't think i'm only this way with you, i'm just feeling stuck. it's like i'm running out of time." you take in his words, nodding silently. you know your magic is taking over him as he speaks, because you feel your glow dimming more and more as you keep walking. "i don't know what that feels like, chan. i'm sorry, genuinely. i truly do want you to understand that i am here to help as much as i can, not just as a professor but as…a friend, i guess." "mmh, i don't think you can help." he squeezes your arm gently as you make a left turn. "i'm too far gone, i believe. i thought about what you said, the emotional blockage thing. and i know that you're using your fingers to seep your funky little magic into me so i talk about myself and get things moving for your peace of mind." his fingers pat yours lingering on his hip, and you sheepishly go to move them.

he holds them in place, as you guide him to the gate of your complex. "i don't mind talking to you, or answering your questions. i really, really admire you as a person and sorceress. the selflessness, you're one of the kindest people i've ever had the pleasure of meeting. you just have to give me some time to warm up to you."

he stops in front of the gate, letting you punch in the code before sliding his arm off your shoulders. "i want to apologize for my behavior. i know i've been increasingly bitchy and standoffish, i'm just stressed. i'm sorry, and i'm sorry for taking it out on you. i know you're just trying to help."

"won't you come in? it's rather late and i'd hate to have you walk back alone." your eyes are slightly pleading, and he raises a brow. "are you sure?"

you shrug, holding the gate open. he walks past you, not comfortable enough to slide his arm over you once more. he feels the warmth of you as you float past, and he follows quietly. unlocking the door, his eyes peer into your apartment, and it's just like your classroom.

the lights are dimmed, and your couch is the same velvety green. it smells like bambinella pear and bergamot, and your walls are littered with photos and articles. many of them penned by you, he notices, as he skims them. "feel at home?" you chuckle, and he hears the rustling of your coat as you slip it off.

"mhm, it smells nice in here." he nods as he continues observing articles, before bumping into your side table. he looks down and sees a newspaper from seven years ago, a smiling face staring back at him.

spellbound prodigy involved in an automobile accident puts the world of wizardry at risk.

he skims the paper, seeing your name repeated over and over again but yet, no mention of the person in the photo. no age, no name.

"oh, you found that?" you're behind him, and you take hold of the paper, letting it droop over your hands. "who is that?" you sigh, your fingernail tracing the man's face. "minhwi. he was my best friend from primary school until the summer of 2017. that's when the accident happened." setting the paper back down, you pat the picture before floating to the kitchen, your golden glow gone as it begins to turn dark red.

"it's grief, the hue." you wave your hand at yourself as chan leans against the island, his eyes softening as you pour water in a glass, sliding it to him. the color dims as you turn to him, sitting on the bar stool. "i know, you're wondering how i'm involved in the accident."

chan looks down, and you let out an airy chuckle. "god, i hate talking about this." you rub your thighs, before looking up. "he told me he was in love with someone, and i encouraged him to make the hour drive to see her. i even offered to tag along, even though it was into the human world."

you're nervous, and chan can feel it. he rounds the island, sliding onto the stool beside you. you twist to face him as he takes your hands in his. how cute, you think.

"there was a really bad thunderstorm, but minhwi literally used to race cars for money. rain or shine, he was an expert behind the wheel. he won so many, and i was there for almost all of them. he called me his biggest cheerleader." chan's thumb wipes at your face, and you hadn't even known you were crying. you feel your chest ache as his hand lingers, before dropping back to your lap. "lightning struck one of the oak trees lining the backway route into town. minhwi tried to swerve out of the way, and we wound up spinning out. the tree landed on the car, and the weight crushed us, and there was glass everywhere. he died on impact."

you sniffle, and chan's eyes are glossy as he clears his throat. "and you blame yourself?" "absolutely." nodding, you interlace your fingers with chan's. "and the fact that i survived and he didn't, it kills me inside. it's not like he would've been able to, he was a…" you trail off, and chan's eyes match yours in size.

"...he was human." he finished, and you can't look at him. "you exposed the world of magic and our practices, to a human." you stay silent, before his arms envelope you in a hug. the burn you feel is almost debilitating, but you feel blue crawling up your neck as he rubs your back softly. "i'm sorry for your loss, y/n."

"that's it?" you blurt, and he laughs against your neck like he did earlier. "yeah, it's not like i can judge you, and it's not like humans don't know we exist. we're just frowned upon, it's not a crime to involve yourself with them. love makes us do crazy things." he pulls back, and you let blue overtake you. "i'm genuinely sorry about your friend. he sounds like he was a great time." "he was. i haven't talked about him since. all i have left is the scars from the accident." you shrug, taking a sip of your water. "scars?"

you flash a smile at him, before shaking your head. "just know, if i ever do let you in my pants, the shirt stays on, not because i'm insecure but because i hate looking at them."

he nods, a shy look crossing his eyes before he closes them. "can i ask you for a favor? before you go to bed, i mean?" "sure, anything." you tuck your hair behind your ears, sitting up. "that emotional blockage you spoke about, you can…remove that, right? i'm not too sure what your powers are." he mumbles as he picks at his nails, and you smile. "i can. would you like me to do that for you?" his eyes look to yours, and you see fear flash through them. "it doesn't hurt, channie. come on, i can do it right now." you slide off the stool, holding your hand out to him. he takes your hand, but instead of following you, he pulls you towards him.

your chest is flush to his, and you see a subtle blush on his cheeks as he dips his head, lips brushing against yours. you relax in his hold, letting your lips mold against his. you can't feel anything but heat and his tongue teasing yours, but it's no big deal (you're trying to convince yourself at this point.) his hands move to hold your face, his fingers burning your skin when he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours.

"not tonight, i don't think i'm ready." he whispers against your lips, and you open your eyes to look into his hazy ones. nodding, you press another chaste kiss on his mouth. "whenever you're ready, channie. i'll be here."

"i'll take the couch." he plants one last kiss on your forehead, and you nod. "if you insist. goodnight, channie." "goodnight, y/n." he watches your glowing form trail down the hall, likely towards your bedroom.

and he sees a hint of indigo spreading across your back as you shut the door behind you.

tuesday – december 15.

chan is a lot nicer as the next two weeks go by. still shows up to class, even early, since your escapade after the party. he finds himself staring at you more often than not, and you're not the only one who notices.

minnie often slips you knowing looks, and you find yourself growing shy as you look to see chan peeking at you over his laptop, eyes glowing that bright violet you've come to adore.

"alright, everybody. have a good weekend!" you smile cheerfully as they file out, your glow now bright blue. the girls had mentioned you looked much more relaxed these days, and you attributed it to 'more sleep.'

you didn't really know what it was. you'd woken up glowing indigo the day after the party, and almost everyday after that. you flickered indigo when you caught chan in the hallway before class on tuesday, and when he hung back a little too long on thursday. really, if you even glanced at chan, you'd flash the dark color and leave the students rubbing at their eyes.

chan, on the other hand, was constantly looking for ways to talk to you.

he saw the flustered flickering, the confusion of your body as it glitched from hue to hue. at one point you had splotches of indigo, pink and your natural gold all over you. you still flirted back at mingyu's advances, albeit he calmed down noticeably. he observed that mingyu was on his phone more often, and you later found out through minnie that he was utterly romanced by jihyo. you thought it funny, and teased him about it (and jihyo, the next time you saw her for coffee and pastries.)

"hey, can we talk?" chan is standing behind you as you wave off your students, and you jump at the closeness. "sure, channie. what's up? is this about your final project?"

it wasn't an unreasonable question. the semester was coming to an end, the students looked visibly stressed and you hadn't heard of any parties since.

but, you knew it was unreasonable for your situation with chan. you never missed his longing glances at your lips, or the fact that he was early to class. his friends changbin and jisung often trailed behind him as he walked to class, and he only introduced you to them because they wouldn't stop badgering him at the doorway. "she's even prettier up close," jisung had said dreamily, and you just gave him a soft smile as you watched him bump into the doorframe.

"not really? maybe." he rubs his neck, and you tilt your head. "what's going on?"

"uh, i think i'm ready. for what we talked about…the night of the party." he swallows thickly, and you feel taken aback. "oh? what brought this on?" you float to the back, patting the same couch he sits in during class. you tuck your legs under you, holding your head up with the wall. his knees brush yours as he sits, and you wince at the heat you feel in your chest.

"i started the essay you assigned last night." he can't look at you, and you find your stomach to grow increasingly tight. "yeah?" "i can't write anything. i have six drafts already, and i feel so overwhelmed." he's nibbling on his lip, almost as though not to cry. you lean closer, his eyes glassy as they meet yours. frowning, your hand finds home on his jaw, your thumb wiping a few fallen tears. "i'm here, i can help. we can do it here."

you get up, moving the tables back towards the walls. he watches you as you move, and your back is splotched with indigo. he still doesn't know what it means, but you shiver as it creeps up your neck. your hand flies to your nape, rubbing your skin. it dissipates, returning to your golden glow.

"need an open space. are you sure?" you motion for him to join you in the center of the room, and he nods. you can already feel the same heat on your skin as he settles in front of you, and the same eerie cold of indigo on your shoulders. you huff, sliding your cardigan onto the floor and rolling up your sleeves. "i have to touch your skin for this, okay? and don't worry about anything else, just keep your eyes on me." he's nervous as he lets you take his shaky hands, a soft pout on your lips as you close your eyes. "i got you, okay? i won't let anything hurt you, you're strong." you're muttering, but he finds comfort in your words. he's sure you say this to everybody.

until you start glowing a blinding blaze of indigo, your face scrunched, wincing as the room cools significantly. you're brighter than he's ever seen, possibly brighter than the fluorescent lights that line the university halls. your grimace grows as you furrow your brows deeply, the glow around you seemingly like a flame. he just watches silently as you drop one of his hands.

"can you lift your shirt for me?" your voice is strangled. your eyes are screwed shut, and he quickly does so, your hand trembling as it makes contact. your skin feels like it's on fire, and you don't know what's happening that you can only hear ringing. you'd never felt anything this intensely, but you persist as your hand palms around his torso, before reaching the center. you splay your fingers, pressing into his skin.

you flash green for a second, so quick he almost misses it.

sliding your hand up his chest, you find the base of his throat. a sigh slips through your lips, and you pull him closer. placing his hand on your waist before moving yours in his hair. you flash slightly pink as he slips his other hand on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin.

"this might feel a little cold." you murmur, and you dim entirely. the glow around you is now gone, a soft grey floating off you. it runs to the floor, like sand, and forms different grainy figures. kind of like…sandcastles. you open your eyes, despite the damn near inferno heat where your skin meets his.

"these are all your blockages." you pull his shirt down, and move his hands from your hips. to your right, is a grainy woman that splits into several more women. next to her, are two figures, who seem to disappear into another figure, a forest. you skirt around him, holding him in place with a hand on his hip. behind him, is another figure.

shaped kind of like you. your thighs, your arms, your hair.

"what…do they mean?" you're snapped out of your process by his voice, and you sigh. "this one…channie, you have to find better coping mechanisms. sleeping with women for stress relief is not good for you. i know it feels good, but there are other things you can do. ever tried puzzles?"

you sink to the floor, pulling him with you. you move the figures next to each other in front of you, the sand-like texture sticking to your skin. gesturing to the women, you keep talking.

"casual sex is awful, when you compare it to relationship sex. shit, even hate sex. at least you feel something other than lust for the person you're fucking." you grimace, and he nods. with a wave of your hand, the sand collapses. "these next three…you can pick which you want first." he glances at them, his hand subconsciously searching for yours. you grab it, and he points at the two people. you let your skin burn as you begin to talk, his fingers tightening around your palm. "these…are your parents, and the forest around the university." the room stills, and chan lets go of your hand. "what about them?" "you're afraid they're not proud of you. you feel like you're missing out on your experiences with them, because…" you wince as an aftershock racks your body, making you shiver. you miss chan's nervous glance. "because they're distant. you feel like an outcast from your family, and it affects the way you form bonds here. it's hard for you to build friendships, and it's hard for you to establish relationships because you fear being loved. or maybe loving, and not being loved back"

taking a breath, you pull your knees to your chest.

"the forest is representative of your lost feeling. all the trees look the same, and it makes you feel like you're constantly going in circles. everyone here is identical, we all have something special. you find it hard to relate because although you know there is something that makes you like us, you're unaware of what it is." he nods, and you let the figures drop.

"this one…" you're mumbling, and he leans slightly closer to hear you. sighing, you pull the figure of you closer. raising your arm, the figure raises her arm. "that's me." his head snaps to look at you, your eyes burning holes into the floor. you glance at the figure, collapsing it. all the figures pool together, and you lean forward, blowing it like you would dust off a bookshelf. it disappears, and chan leans back on his hands.

"what about you?" he murmurs, and you shake your head, moving to lie through your teeth. "i don't know." "you're lying." you feel your glow return, flickering gold. "y/n, tell me what it means." "i can't." you shrug, "i don't know what it means. did this help? do you feel better?"

he's peering at you, his eyes swirling violet. you raise a brow as you look at him over your shoulder, and he just shakes his head. getting up, he stalks back to the couch. you watch as he shoves his arms into his hoodie, and you simply get up, floating towards your desk.

he grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him. you sense the frost of indigo across your mid-back. you turn his hold, eyes glued to his fingers wrapped around your arm. "why?"

"hm?" "why can't you tell me?" his eyes are insistent in their violet glory. chills run down your back, indigo spreading over your hips as you run your eyes over him. he's so beautiful. "because…i can't reciprocate."

he doesn't understand, you can tell as he keeps looking at you. kind of like he wants to eat you alive, but also like he wants you to vanish.

"it means you're in love with me, or you will be. you don't like the idea of it, because it means you'll have to open up to me. that kind of…figure doesn't change, even if you want it to. you won't get the option to leave me out of your heart, and it will be unrequited for the rest of our lives. you will love me, forever, and you won't get a say in it." he lets go, brows furrowed, and his face is deep red in embarrassment. you take a step forward, and your hands instinctively reach for his waist. he allows it as he crosses his arms across his chest, his eyes fixated on you, waiting for you to speak.

"i can't love, chan." you whisper, and feel indigo overwhelm you. pursing your lips, you look down so as to not let him see the tears forming. "trust me when i say i wish i could. i wish i could love you, the way you deserve. i could wake up every morning and reach for you, but you would never be there because i can't give you what you need." the tears are dripping off your face now, pattering on the rug beneath your feet. you let go of him, your fingers tugging your shirt up, slipping it over your head. your hair falls to your shoulders, and you push it back, dropping your shirt on your desk. his eyes soften as he looks at the curve of the wide scar – like an insignia, it's carved into your skin. it starts on your shoulder, curving around it the way a fallen bra strap would. it trails down your sternum, before splitting at your diaphragm. a sharp point ends right under your left breast, while the other curves to the right of your belly button, ending on your hip.

"there is nothing i could do in this world that could ever get me in trouble, because i have this." speaking softly, you lift the cup of your bra, showing him where x marks the spot – directly above your heart. "the coven said this was my punishment for minhwi's involvement in this world, and the outrage i sparked. i can't feel love, and i haven't for so long that even if i did, i wouldn't know what it's like. i won't ever feel what it's like to be loved again, because i don't deserve it."

chan's eyes are glossed over as he brings his hand to your skin, the singe making you grimace as his fingers trace the border lightly. he tucks his lip in his teeth as he touches your shoulder, and your glow flickers slightly brighter. he pulls you in, burying his nose in your hair. "everyone deserves love. this is not your fault, i'm sorry things happened this way." you pull back, his eyes glistening with tears as he thumbs the scar on your shoulder. you give him a sad smile, shrugging in his hold. "it's life. life goes on, but for what it's worth…if i could, i'm sure you'd take great care of me."

"i still can." he says, reaching for your shirt. "i'm a pleaser, really. reciprocation has never been an issue."

"are you seriously making a pass at me? after i just told you all of that? have some shame." you let an airy chuckle slip through your lips as you take your shirt from him, and he just smiles. one, two dimples. "not being able to love doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to cum. just saying." you gasp, landing a gentle smack on his arm before sliding your shirt on. "chan, stop it! what did i say about casual sex, hm?" pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, he cages you between your desk and his firm chest. "didn't we just talk about this? you know it's not casual." you know it's not casual.

"just once, think about yourself, yeah? do yourself a favor." he places a chaste kiss on your nose, and you feel your cheeks heat as he peppers his lips over them. you let a giggle bubble in your throat, his lips stopping over your lips. "just think about it." he gives your lips a quick kiss, before pulling back.

"it's late, let me walk you home?" he offers a gentle look in his eyes. you just nod, grabbing your purse from the back of your desk. you decide you'll move the tables back on thursday, sliding your cardigan up your arms. "aren't you cold?" he asks, sliding his arm over your shoulders like he did the night of the party, as you lock the classroom door.

"no, actually. i don't know if you feel it, but every time you touch me, i feel like i'm on fire." you chuckle lightly as you start walking, and his breath hitches. glancing at him, he just moves the two of you forward. "chan?" "mhm?" he doesn't look at you, and you stop walking. crossing your arms, he sighs. "it's not a big deal." he shrugs, trying to shake the subject by tugging you slightly closer. you frown, wrapping your arms around his waist. your eyes are fixed on him, and he can't help but coo.

"you're so pretty." he squishes your face with his free hand, and continues walking forward. "does it bother you?" you ask, your fingers drumming on his hip. the air is so frigid, and so is indigo as it fights chan's warmth. you just have to let me warm up to you.

he did so awfully fast.

"does what bother me?" he's tracing circles in your shoulder, the movement scorching. he seems so relaxed, so unperturbed by anything. you'd never seen his face so calm, used to the furrow of his brows or the bags under his eyes darker than they should be. "the fact that i won't be able to love you back." he chuckles, fingers squeezing your shoulder. "i'm used to it, as pathetic as it sounds. love is not my forte, or for the people around me. jisung is surprisingly able to get into almost anyone's pants, and can't settle down for shit. changbin is sickeningly in love with his best friend, and do you remember that guy we saw at the party? the one sneaking out of the closet?"

you nod, and he laughs. "that's seungmin. that girl he was with, they broke up back in august. they've been fucking around ever since. if they're both at a party, they're hooking up. can't seem to stay away from each other, in a desperate attempt to stay on each other's minds, i guess? it's cute, i think." he shrugs. you feel your heart skip a beat, looking down to see a white glow on your chest. you ignore it, probably glowing silver as you feel the emptiness, the longing to understand what he means.

"so no. it doesn't bother me, it never will. you get used to it."

it pains you a bit, to hear him sound so…well, used to it. so accustomed to settlement, so unbothered by a lack of reciprocation. selfless, really.

wednesday – december 16.

chan wound up spending the night at your apartment. he insisted on taking the couch before you physically pulled him into your room. the moment his back hit the mattress, he ate his words as you tickled him, forcing him to admit that it was more comfortable.

really, you'd just wanted an excuse to wake up next to him. maybe see his bed head, run your fingers through it, exchange a morning kiss. all of that stupid couple shit that you would never fully experience.

because love makes you do stupid things, like spin out on a backroad and die. so you don't deserve to feel it, and really, it keeps you safe. you have no idea what it's like to love anymore and you pretend you're okay with it. you soothe by saying that not all can be felt, not all that can be desired should be had.

but fuck, if you didn't like chan before, you certainly do now.

there's no reason for this. for him standing in your living room, holding a cup of coffee as he reads through the articles you've written and framed. for him to look so cute in your old abba shirt that's too tight on his arms, for his eyes to be swollen with sleep as he blinks over the mug. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects. on you, on the people in his life.

"you're up." his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you feel your cheeks heat as you nod. "your hair is a mess. here, let me fix it."

he sets down his cup, calmly running his hand through your mussed hair. the curls fight him as he tucks them behind your ears, his fingers lingering on your lobes as you stare at him. your indigo glow reflects on his skin, his head tilted as he speaks. "what? cat got your tongue, professor?"

your mouth opens to retort, but you have nothing to say. nothing comes out. you feel orange flicker through you as you close your mouth, earning a squeaky laugh from the man in front of you. "cute. there's coffee in the kitchen, i just made it."

he doesn't have morning classes on wednesdays, you figure as he follows you to the kitchen. because it's eleven thirty and he's still in your apartment, in your shirt, with his hands on your waist, and you don't care one bit as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

"are you upset? you haven't said a word." his thumbs work into the small of your back, and you shudder at his touch, before you shake your head. "i'm not used to having people here so early." "it's nearly noon, y/n." he laughs airily, his breath tickling your neck. "still, so early."

you try and ignore the heat in your chest, far stronger than it had ever been before as his fingers carefully dip below the waistband of your sweats, coming out just as quickly. "you weren't in bed when i woke up." you're muttering, but his proximity makes him hear you anyway.

"aw, did you want to wake up in my arms like they do in the movies?" he's teasing you. you scoff in embarrassment, eyes not catching the subtle white glow on your chest as you turn in his hold. "no way, pft. i like spreading my limbs like a starfish, you were crowding me all night." "hey, i offered to take the couch." he shrugs, and you just shake your head. "should've insisted a little more, then i wouldn't have felt so cold when i realized you weren't there." you joke as you set down your cup, and he raises a brow. "didn't think it would bother you, but that can be fixed." "chan–" you squeal as he hooks his arms under your thighs, your own flying to his shoulders. your legs wrap around his waist as he marches the both of you to your bedroom. "chan, don't you have classes today?" "don't you?" he kisses your forehead gently as he sets you down on your bed, pushing you back lightly. you roll your eyes, trying to hide your excitement as he slips under your duvet. he tugs you closer, your back to his chest. if he cares about the scorching heat of your skin touching, he doesn't mention it as he settles his head in the crook of your neck, reaching to intertwine your fingers with his. he holds your hand tightly, nestling it between your breasts. "if you wanted to touch my boobs, you could've just asked." "shut up, let me hold you. be selfish, for once." he nips at your earlobe, and you sigh. tender kisses trail your neck, and you can feel pink creeping down your thighs as he gives your hand a squeeze. "is this okay?"

"mhm." you can't speak as he lets go of your hand, fingers dancing across the exposed skin of your hip where your shirt has ridden up. he doesn't go up, but instead softly dips into the waistband of your sweats, snapping your underwear against your skin. a whine slips, and you freeze as he pauses. "should i stop?" his voice is raspy in your ear, and your hand grabs his wrist, bringing it lower. "it's alright. you can keep going. f-further, if you want."

you curse yourself at the stutter, hearing a soft chuckle in his throat as his fingers pad over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches in your throat as he circles the wet spot you've been presented with, a shaky sigh escaping chan as he rocks against you. you feel pink envelope in its warmth as you turn onto your back, holding his hand in place as you capture his lips. he kisses you back fervently, his fingers never stopping their movements on your clothed heat.

"c-can you…" you whimper against his lips, his hand never slowing as you move against it, brows furrowed. he watches as you try to form words, your eyes screwed shut as your hand tugs his away. "can you go d-down on me?" barely a whisper as you peel your eyes open, and he swears they hold the stars.

"i'd kill a man if you asked me." he shrugs, and you just roll your eyes. tugging your sweats off, he gets a glimpse of the way your panties stick to your lower lips, his heart racing in his chest knowing he's got you soaking.

he could make you cum with them on. he's positive.

spreading your thighs slowly, he watches as you hook your thumbs into the waistband. he pushes your hands away, not bothering to address your confusion as he holds them in place, sinking between your legs. he can't help but tease, dragging his soft lips up your skin, watching you shudder at the contact. he moves to grip your hips, your shirt rising and the end of your scar becoming visible. his eyes flicker to yours, "shirt stays on, right?"

"y-yeah." you look away, and he rubs your hip reassuringly. "s'alright, baby. i can make you cum just like this, if you want."

it's not a question, you can tell as he kisses the pink cotton of your panties. he has no intention of taking them off, he might not even fuck you, but you don't care. all that matters are his eyes peering into your fucking soul as he dips his head down, a chaste kiss pressed to your hip. he trails down, hands circling your plush thighs as he litters them with kisses. your eyes are watching him nervously, lip tucked under your teeth to stop the soft pants from echoing the room. you feel like you can't breathe as he pulls you closer to his face, pressing that strong nose into you, inhaling deeply. "you smell so fucking good, baby." he's not even doing anything, but the vibrations of his moan against you elicit a whimper from your throat, making you buck your hips forward. his grip tightens as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, placing a soft kiss on it before he speaks against it.

"be nice, or i'll make you scream." he smiles into your underwear, tonguing your clit through the fabric. he watches as your glow grows brighter, pulling you impossibly closer. he's letting you grind on his face, to use him for your pleasure, and you'd be lying if that doesn't make you that much more wet for him. "y-you don't want to take them off?"

your stuttering is adorable to him, and the way your fingers card through his hair and tug adds to his own pleasure. shaking his head, he snaps the waistband against you again, "you're so needy, aren't you? can't get off just like this?" "channie, p-please. please, i want your f-fingers." he hums against your clit, continuing his cruel lapping, the sound of your pussy against his face obscene and sloppy. "you can beg better than that. tell me how bad you want it, baby." "w-want it so bad, channie, please. please, i'll be g-good for you, p-promise. s-so good." you're almost sobbing, and he almost feels bad. a gentle laugh leaves his throat as he thumbs your slit, leaving sticky strings against his skin as he gives in. "so good? so, so good for me? is that right?" he slides the flimsy fabric down your legs, the exposure to the cool air making you shiver. he's watching your face contort as he collects your arousal on his fingers, before slowly teasing your entrance. "i swear to god, chan-" your retort gets cut off by a gasp, his fingers hitting just right, his lips sucking tortuously on your clit. he likes it messy, is all you can think in your fucked out state as you coat his entire hand in your slick, feeling him groan against your pussy.

"look at you, so pretty. you're a good girl for me, right? you're gonna soak the sheets, hm?" he feels you clamp around his fingers, another wave of your arousal glazing his palm as you sob. "fuck, you sound so hot." "c-channie..." you rasp, your voice so low he almost misses it. he peers at you over your soft tummy, your lips swollen and covered in your spit from biting back your moans. you're actively whining, grinding against his hand in a weak attempt at reaching your release. "aw, baby wants to cum? is that it?"

you whimper, making him curl his fingers inside your wet heat. he seemed to have found the perfect spot as you arched your back off the bed, attempting to pull away from him. his left arm holds you tightly in place, your fingers clutching his wrist as your choked moan rings blissfully in his ears. your thighs close around him, his soft shh doing nothing to quiet you down as you let your orgasm wrack your legs. his lips pepper kisses all over your pelvis, mumbles of praises as he works his way up.

he hovers over your face, pressing his soft lips on your cheek. you wrap your arms around his neck, shivering at the way his fingers pinch your clothed nipple lightly. "you can give me one more, right? just one more, princess." he's murmuring against your skin, and you nod as he reaches your lips.

"just one more?" you nip at his lower lip, before sinking in to kiss him. "just one. want to feel you around me, want to know how good i'm making you feel." you realize it's important to chan, despite what he said the night before. he wanted to be praised, he wanted to make somebody proud, even if this was the only way he felt he could do it. he could act like he's this statue, this emotionless, needless creature of nature – but he also desired approval, to be needed, to be wanted.

to be loved.

you don't say anything as you let his hands push your knees to your chest, his lips now suckling on your nipple through your shirt. your hands move to his head, pushing it away as you go to slip it off. his hands let go of your legs, entwining your fingers with his brows furrowed. "you don't have to." "i want to." you quip back quickly, tugging your fingers out of his grasp. you hook them at the hem of your shirt, lightly lifting off the bed to slide it off. he hesitates, his eyes tracing the curves of the raised skin. the way it glows lightly, almost as though it's losing its defined edges.

his eyes flicker to yours, your gaze intently scanning his face. did you think he'd be disgusted? maybe even repulsed? lowering his head, he brushed a kiss to your lips, before he allowed himself to sink to your chest. you breathed in nervously, your fingers gripping the sheets next to your body when you felt his mouth planting feather-light touches to your scar.

he can feel your skin heat under his face, the more he travels along the healed welt. the glow is slightly brighter than your overall pink, as you shudder under him, his hands pulling your fingers into his, the crumpled sheets forgotten as he pins your arms above your head.

"you're so beautiful. gorgeous, ethereal. no words could express how lovely you are." he whispers as he presses one final kiss where x marks the spot, and you jolt lightly at the singe you feel. it spreads, the whole insignia across your torso burning deeply as he moves back. his eyes are flashing with something you can't read. "chan…" "sorry." he shakes his head, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hands. you tilt your head at him, before glancing at his body, a smile spreading on your plump lips. "are you going to fuck me with all your clothes on?"

"i can." he smiles, and you raise an eyebrow. "off, all of it."

standing off the side of your bed, he tugs your old abba shirt off, and you watch with sinful eyes as he flings it away. "stop staring at me." he whispers, and you shake your head playfully. "you said you'd kill a man if i asked, and gave me the best head of my life, but i can't watch you strip?"

"the best, huh?" he ignores everything else he slips his sweats off, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed. "don't get cocky, or this won't count as extra c-credit." your eyes peer at him, the leaking head of his thick cock already teasing your folds lightly. his hands circle your legs once more, pulling one over his shoulder while folding the other close to your chest. he stares at your soaked cunt, the way it clenches around nothing. so inviting, so wet, so ready for him.

"that's alright, let's count it as the first class i missed. what was it, getting to know me? ask me something." he continues his teasing, watching as you squirm against him. "uhm, o-okay. what's your favorite color?"

"really?" he rubs against you lightly, his tip dragging over your clit so menacingly, you swear you could cum from just that. "hm, i like black." "black is an ab-absence of color, fuck." you dig your nails into your thighs as he shallowly thrusts into you, the lack of warning wracking a shudder up your spine. "mm, if you can't keep talking there's going to be an absence of dick in about two seconds."

"n-no, no please. shit, that feels so good." you can't keep your eyes open as he slowly sinks further into you, stilling his movements as you tuck your lip into your teeth. "ah, ah. eyes open, keep talking to me." his fingers lightly tap your cheek, your skin burning in embarrassment as you peel your eyes open. "next question, baby." "b-biggest accomplishment so f-far?" you swallow thickly as his hips are flush against your ass, allowing you to adjust to the size of him before making any more movements. he leans his head against your ankle, brows furrowed as he speaks. "probably making you cum so hard, you cry." you narrow your eyes as you look at him, "you h-haven't, though?" "but i will." he kisses your shin, giving an experimental thrust of his hips. your eyes flutter shut, a silent gasp from your lips turning to soft mewls as he starts a gentle pace. "next question." "d-do you believe in love at first s-sight?" you feel him hesitate, before he gives you a particularly harsh thrust. "somewhat." he rubs your thigh gently before continuing his brutal ministrations. "harder, please." silently, he obliges, letting your breathy moans fill his ears instead of talking. he hates talking, he hates answering questions, but he can't help and adore the tone of your voice, the softness of your queries, the avoidance in answering his.

"you feel so good, channie, holy shit." he can feel you clenching tightly around him, but lets your praise take precedence. the way you're arching your back off the mattress, hairline lined with beads of sweat as you let him fuck into you, just the way you like. the way you seem to love, as he lowers to whisper in your ear. "next question."

the proximity makes everything feel like it's a thousand degrees, your hands flying to his hair as he sucks on your collarbone lightly. "favorite s-song? ah!' you hiss at his teeth on your skin, feeling his grin against you.

"your voice." his thrusts are slowly becoming less steady, but you don't care. you don't care because his skin is scorching hot, he's holding you to him, you can feel the air of his pants against your neck and he feels so good.

there's no reason for this. for him to be blissfully ruining you while holding you flush to his chest, your nipples touching with every roll of his hips. for him to look so good while he defiles you, the way you're not even speaking coherently in his ear. for your soul to feel like it's aching for more of him, but how much more could you have when you can't love him. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects, on you, as the white-hot of your orgasm starts approaching fast.

"i…" you feel a sob rip through you, and he instinctively pulls away from you. "hey, hey. it's alright, baby." guilt fills his chest, his hands holding your face as the tears stream down your cheeks. "it's alright, we don't have to–" pushing yourself up on your elbows, you smash your lips to his, feeling yourself glow so hot you're practically on fire. it's all teeth and tongue, and you're wrapping your fingers around his throat before he can react. squeezing gently, he whines into your mouth, his hips snapping erratically against you. you swallow his sounds in your quiet sobs, the tears dripping down your neck doing nothing to cool you down.

"y/n…" he whines pitifully against your lips, and you can feel his pout emerge as you clench around him. he settles his face in the crook of your neck, cheeks flushed. "p-please don't stop, don't stop, e-ever…" you're just as needy as he is, throwing your head back as he bites at your shoulders, your hand on his throat tightening as he sends you over the edge.

"fuck, baby." the whimper into your shoulder does nothing good for him as you clench around him, milking whatever is left of him, hips driving you both into overstimulation. he slows, his head lifting from your shoulder to peer into your eyes. you avoid them, letting go of his throat and wiping them off with the back of your hand.

the room feels heavy, with guilt. shame. maybe even a bit of hatred, but you’re not entirely sure as he kisses you gently, chastely, before pulling back. his eyes hold the sun, the stars, the moon.

"guess you got your biggest accomplishment, huh?" you chuckle thickly, and he shakes his head, pulling out slowly. his eyes avert to your center, watching his cum drip out of you slowly. he feels weird, it's such a waste. "are you okay? i should've asked sooner, i'm sorry." "no, no. it was…it was really good." you admit, feeling your glow flicker. you close your legs, scooting up on the bed as he reaches for your shirt, you cross your arms over your chest, fingers digging into your sides. "i really liked it, actually." "are you sure?" he's absent, you can tell as he wipes the back of your legs gently, before tossing the shirt over his shoulder. "i'm sorry for crying, i know it was really sudden. i just felt so overwhelmed and you felt so good, and i…" you trail off, and he feels his cheeks heat, shaking his head again. "no, it's fine. that was the goal, after all. i…do you want me to go?" your brows furrow, and you tilt your head. "go? why would i want you to go?" he shrugs, not meeting your eyes as he tugs on his sweatpants. "i don't know, i usually leave after…things like this." "what happened to 'you know it's not casual?'" you use air quotes, and you see his cheeks burn bright red. "i…i don't think i'd be able to do this, especially after what we talked about yesterday."

"do…what? we just had sex, it's not a big deal." you uncross your arms, ignoring your blatant nudity as he slips your abba shirt to you, taking it just to toss it to the side. "...act like i don’t care. i really, really like you, y/n, and i already feel so guilty about this." he can't look at you as he slips his hoodie on, the one you'd thrown over your desk chair last night when he said it was too hot to wear to bed.

you close your mouth, pressing your lips into a firm line as you grab the shirt, tugging it over your head. "i figured this would happen. maybe you should go, chan. clear your head, and we can talk later."

your brows are furrowed as you open your bedroom door, and he swallows thickly. he knew what he was getting himself into, so why does it bother him now? he said he wouldn't care, he said it so confidently.

and yet, he can't bring himself to say a word as he slams out of your apartment, eyes full of tears. leaving you feeling dejected, guilty and alone.

thursday – december 17.

it wasn't until the next day that you noticed it was significantly smaller.

it didn't curve under your breast anymore, the subtle x on your skin gone. it didn't wrap around your shoulder anymore, and it stopped right next to your navel. the scarred skin was now a bit paler, and you'd grimaced as you tugged your shirt on.

you couldn't be arsed with thinking about it, really, because now you had to walk into your classroom and face chan. of course, the chances of him not being there were fifty-fifty.

which inherently, made you feel worse.

you didn't understand why you couldn't stop thinking about his words, and what he said. your voice was his favorite song, he didn't care if you loved him or not, he somewhat believed in love at first sight? he'd met you officially a little over a month ago, no one can fall in love that quickly.

groaning, you felt orange flicker across your body as you let your heels clack against the saltillo tile of the hallway, tossing your half-empty coffee cup in the trash can. upon entering your room, the air feels…cooler.

chan is sitting on the couch, his legs squished together as minnie and shuhua peer at his face. soyeon, mingyu and yugyeom are flipping through various textbooks, each talking about what could have caused a sudden irischroma shift. he probably feels the heat of your stare, his eyes flickering to yours.

they're a deep, deep indigo color. they flash lightly at the sight of you, and minnie looks up to see you standing at your podium. "y/n…you've gotta come see this." "i can…i can see it, minnie." your voice is faint as you feel your chest searing hot, your hand coming to soothe it. clearing your throat, you shake your head as you feel a little weary, shuhua approaching you quickly. "are you okay? y/n?" "yes, i'm okay." your breathing becomes a little labored, soyeon and mingyu rushing to your side as you sink to the floor. "just give me some room." your hands touch the cool floor, and you can feel yourself dimming by the second.

"gyu, get help." minnie shoves mingyu out the door, and you can hear his footsteps fading as he runs to the infirmary. "chan, help me pick her up." yugyeom urges, and you weakly shake your head.

"i'm fine, i'm okay." you choke out, your hand clutching your chest as you feel chan's warm hands on your arms, circling around to lift you gently. "easy, easy. i got you, baby." he murmurs, and you feel your eyes sting with tears as he lets you slump against him, your glow fading fast.

"stay with me." his fingers dig into your side as he picks you up bridal style, carefully walking you over to the couch. yugyeom pulls their backpacks off, letting him lower you gently. minnie fans you with a stack of papers. chan peers at your face, your brows pinched as you breathe in as deeply as you can, his thumb instinctively padding at the crease. huffing, you tear his hand away, lacing your fingers in his. he acts like his heart doesn’t lurch forward.

"alright, everybody, back up." mingyu's voice rings in the room, and your bleary eyes can barely make out the oxygen mask that nurse taeyeon is slipping over your face. "there, there, professor. we got you."

you're shivering as she instructs chan to lift you onto the gurney on three, and you almost cry at the loss of contact when he sets you down. "chan, chan." your voice is nearly a whisper, and the students watch as you flicker, your glow lost as it glitches between colors.

"maybe you should go with her." yugyeom nudges him as nurse taeyeon glances at him, and she crosses her arms as chan nods slowly,slipping his bag over his shoulder. he takes nurse taeyeon's place at the end of the gurney, rolling you quietly out of the classroom. you're flickering from color to color as he walks slightly faster at nurse taeyeon's command.

"what happened?" she asks, and chan shakes his head as they take a sharp turn, your groan resounding in the hall. "i'm not sure, she just started clutching her chest and basically fell to the floor." nodding, taeyeon stays quiet the rest of the walk, her eyes only glancing at his worried expression and your hazy one. they're in love, she thinks. this is love.

taeyeon can't really help you. her powers lay in the herbalism field, she has no idea what's wrong, and she can't get a specialist here fast enough. she watches as chan carefully positions you in the empty room, letting his bag slide onto the floor before taking a seat at the foot of the bed. she simply sighs, calling that she'd be back with a rosemary tea and to just sit tight as she calls for the master sorcerers.

his hand gently strokes your ankle, making you flinch. "chan, chan i can't breathe." you tug at your collar, and he quickly reaches to unbutton your top buttons. "it's gonna be okay, angel." he's whispering as your hand grasps his wrist, the oxygen mask doing little to help as you wheeze.

"chan…" his head lifts, and your eyes are teary as you hear footsteps approaching hurriedly. he doesn't acknowledge you as the master sorcerers burst into your room, taeyeon trailing behind them with a steaming cup. "excuse me, coming through." she perches at the edge of the bed, carefully pulling you up. you whimper softly, and chan feels his heart ache at your pain. "drink this, it'll help your stress. that's probably what this is, just some anxiety."

taeyeon's tone is soft as she takes off the oxygen mask, the master sorcerers waiting until they can swoop in. neither of them acknowledge chan, despite getting to know him insanely well over the past few years. he could dare to think that they were afraid of him, of not knowing what he was. master sorcerers my ass, he thinks.

"i can't…" you're breathless, and taeyeon's gaze softens as she lets you slump down on the pillow once more. "it's alright. the master sorcerers are here, okay? they'll take care of you." she pats your shoulder, and you nod wearily as the grandest of all, dr. kang seulgi, takes a step forward.

"bang chan, why are you here?" her sharp voice echoes in the room, and your hand weakly reaches for him as he slides off the bed. "i brought her in, dr. kang."

"i see. you can evacuate the premises." she waves him away nonchalantly, and he frowns deeply as he steps back, your eyes fixed on him. almost like you're begging him to stay.

"i think i'll stay, actually." he blurts, and dr. kang's eyes snapped to him. "i'm not asking you, chan, i'm telling you." "let the boy stay, what's the harm?" dr. min's voice rings from his spot against the door frame, and chan glances up at the nimble man. "c'mon, seulgi."

"yoongi, if you undermine me again, you're sleeping on the couch." she grits, her wedding band to dr. min glinting in the low light as she rubs her temples. your hand reaches for chan once more, a soft groan from your lips catching his attention. he takes it, entwining your fingers quickly, kneeling at your side. "of course, jagi. y/n, what seems to be the problem?" dr. min pushes past, noting the undone buttons of your blouse. your chest is glowing, but the rest of you is the dimmest indigo he'd ever seen. much less, having seen you never glow indigo. your breathing is still labored, chest glowing brighter as chan once more rubs the pinch of your brows away.

"y/n, i'm going to open your shirt, okay?" dr. kang pushes past dr. min, her nimble fingers undoing the rest of the buttons. your scar is illuminated, but…it's not really there. it's faded, and chan can tell this is out of the ordinary as dr. kang's brows raise.

"yoongi." her voice is low, bringing her husband to her side. "oh, my."

their eyes meet, as though they're speaking telepathically. dr. kang's eyes flash gold as she furrows her brows, her husband grimacing as his own flash green. they glance at chan, who is gingerly moving your hair out of your face, his fingers barely ghosting over your sticky skin.

you can barely see him through your foggy eyes, but you're scanning him intently. you can see the glowing indigo of his eyes, that matches yours. you're dimming, but he's brighter than ever and it sends a shiver up your spine. his hand squeezes yours, a wave of heat attacking your chest.

dr. kang looks back, her husband staring intently at her.

"he healed her, it seems." his eyes speak, and she shakes her head. "he's not a healer, remember? we tried that already." yoongi nods, eyes fluttering back to the both of you. chan's now sitting on the edge of the bed, your arm draped over his lap as he speaks to you gently. he can't hear what chan is saying, but the glint of adoration in his eyes tells him all he needs to know.

"chan, can i see you in the hallway?" dr. min speaks, and your head turns to him. you pout, your eyes filling with tears as chan pulls away from you. dr. kang gives him a hard glare as she takes his place, her cool hand placed directly on your hot skin, making you groan.

"yes, dr. min?" chan's eyes are enticing, and dr. min shrugs. "let's try a little something, hm?" chan follows dr. min's line of vision, the door of the bathroom ajar. dr. min makes a gesture for chan to wait, before ducking into the bathroom, shutting the door. chan hears a loud crash, and dr. min appears just as fast, with a bloody fist.

"dr. min, are you alright? i can get nurse taeye-" dr. min places his free hand over chan's mouth, a knowing look in his eyes as he holds up his injured hand. "heal me, chan." "what? sir, i'm not a healer, you know that." chan furrows his brows, and dr. min shakes his head. "channel it." dr. min's eyes are boring into chan's soul as he looks away, shivering as he tries to channel any sort of magical energy for this injury. he's not surprised when nothing happens, and dr. min nods his head.

dr. min simply heals it himself, and chan looks away as the skin closes quickly, the dried blood disappearing before his eyes. vitalis mendacium, he thinks it's called. "chan, i think i may have an idea of what's going on with professor y/n." dr. min clasps his hands together in front of him, and chan tilts his head.

"you're in love with her, aren't you?" dr. kang's voice rings from the doorway of your room, and chan gapes at her. "w-what?" "don't play dumb. she told me she helped you clear some emotional blockage on tuesday, and she showed up in your blockages." dr. kang crosses her arms, and a groan is heard from you, chan flinching at the sound. "chan, this is dangerous territory." his eyes narrow as he shakes his head. "i don't think what you did to her was right. i think we all deserve a chance at love, no matter our mistakes. you're wrong, dr. kang." dr. kang scowls, "you think we did this to her? the old coven did it, we had no say!" she points between herself and her husband, and dr. min places his hand on her shoulder.

"chan, seulgi is right. in this world, there is no amount of study done that could reverse what the old coven has done to y/n. they cursed layers upon layers of punishment on her, this was never intended to be something that could be undone." dr. min speaks slowly, and chan can hear you whining in the room behind the couple. he's antsy, he feels sick to his stomach knowing you're a mere ten feet away and he can't make you feel better.

"i don't know what to do." dr. kang admits lowly, her hand covering her eyes as she looks away from the men in front of her. "i think…" dr. min trails off as chan pushes past them, sliding next to you. he watches chan fan you with his hand, your own wrapped around his waist as you shiver.

"you trust me, right?" he looks to seulgi, who nods her head. "always." his hands spin her around, making her face the two of you. "i think this is his to heal. look how quiet she is in his presence, she's barely moving. her breathing is more steady." "yoongi, he's not a healer." seulgi groans into her hands, her eyes catching a flash of white protruding from you as chan runs his hand down your back. she watches as he helps you peel your jacket off, your baby pink shirt transparent from the sheen of your sweat soaking through.

"maybe not for us, but for her." yoongi mumbles, seeing chan swipe your hair away from your neck, his lips pursed as he blows cool air against your skin. your groan is one of relief as he rocks you, and seulgi glances at her husband, swallowing thickly. "they're so rare, yoongi. there hasn't been one in this dimension in three hundred and twenty five years."

"i think we may have another on our hands." yoongi smiles widely as you slowly prop yourself up on your elbow, chan's worried eyes scanning your face for distress. you make a noise of disgust, your glow returning green steadily as chan helps you sit up. "what happened? ugh, i'm all sweaty."

glancing at your hands, you see them glowing indigo as it spreads up your body. you turn, seeing the master sorcerers staring at you from the doorway. grimacing, you glimpse at chan, who is looking at you intently. "hey, you alright?" his hand is holding your hip, and your frown falters as you look into his eyes. they're glowing bright as he looks you over. "what happened to your eyes?" your voice is raspy, and he looks away, shrugging.

"i'm not sure. they started changing last night." he swallows, and you shudder as indigo engulfs you entirely. "they look…pretty."

he snorts, shaking his head. "you might want to button up your shirt." feeling your cheeks burn, your fingers fumble with the buttons when you feel seulgi's cool hand on your wrist. "wait."

letting her lay you back, you miss chan's warmth as he slips off the bed, lingering from a few feet away as she opens your shirt. her eyes widen as she quickly beckons her husband over. his eyes snake down your torso, and his eyes glint with green as he meets seulgi's. they're silent, their faces moving as they communicate.

"y/n?" dr. kang's voice is low as she runs her hand through your mussed curls, and you meet her line of vision. her eyes are soft, staring at your torso. "y/n, do you know the history of psychosomatic healers?"

raising a brow, you nod your head. "yeah, they're the rarest of the healing trifecta. there hasn't been one in this dimension since 1699, and even then there's only seven recorded cases because they're so difficult to pinpoint at commencement." dr. min steps forward, noticing chan's eyes glued to the floor as dr. kang examines you further.. "y/n, i'd like to try something, if you don't mind." nodding, you allow dr. kang to take your arm in her hand, pulling your sleeve off your shoulder.

with a quick swipe of her nails, you're bleeding. you gape at her, a scoff flying from your lips when chan looks up, the sound tearing him from his thoughts. "are you serious, seulgi?" you push her away, flickering orange and dr. min beckons chan forward. "touch her, chan."

taking a deep breath, chan gets closer to you, his nose scrunching at the blood seeping into your shirt. he takes your hand in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. you look away from your shoulder, zeroing in on the subtle touch of affection when a white glow catches everyone's eyes. tugging at your shirt sleeve, seulgi reveals a clean shoulder, no injury visible.

"a psychosomatic healer can only heal those they love." she states, her eyes boring into chan's as he tries to tug his hand away, but you only use it as leverage to sit up. "what the fuck are you guys on about?" "there's no way you're that dumb, y/n." seulgi snorts, her manicured fingernail pointing at your chest. "i don't know how he did it, and i don't think we'll ever know. the curse the coven set upon you has been lifted by him." you look down — the raised welt where your scar once was has dissipated. widening your eyes, you peel the shoulder of your shirt down, the formerly scarred skin now smooth. your fingers tremble as you run them over your soft flesh, feeling the sting of tears forming. you can feel the burn of a sob in your throat as chan releases your hand, stepping back as you process.

the burning of his gaze, of his skin on yours, of your chest in his presence. the ache you felt in your soul yesterday as his lips brushed your neck with every roll of his hips, the way his answers confused you. the anger you felt while walking to class, at not being able to decipher him.

the way his angel eyes held the sun, the moon, and the stars. the way worry creases his brow though relief has washed over his frame, the way you're itching to hold him close, and never, ever let go.

it all makes sense.

"we'll give you both a moment." the master sorcerers bow their heads as they back out of the room, dr. min closing the door behind him. you sit in silence, feeling sticky and gross and overwhelmed.

"you're in love with me?!" you shriek, and chan throws up his hands in defense. "i thought we already knew this, why are we screaming?!" you swat his arm, and a nervous laugh bubbles up his throat. flopping back down onto the gurney, you dramatically cover your eyes with your arm, sighing. "now i have to cherish this, and we're probably going to get married and have kids and all that shit. are you serious? are you serious." "y/n…" you stand up, pacing back and forth in front of him, your hands weaving through your hair to soothe the onsetting migraine at the information. "how are you not freaking out, chan? you just found out you're one of the rarest healers in the trifecta, and not to mention the first in over three centuries! are you shitting me right now?" "y/n?"

you're not listening as you continue to ramble, pacing a hole into the floor when he grabs your shoulder, pulling you to him. taking both your hands in his, he looks you in the eyes. "you're spiraling."

huffing, you nibble on your lower lip. "what happens now, chan?"

his smile is warm, it's comforting, it's making your stomach flip as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "i don't know. isn't that the beauty of it all, though? not knowing where you end up?"

pouting, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing his warmth to seep into your skin. "i've never felt this, chan. i don't know what it's like to be lost, i've always had my answers." you can feel the vibrations of his chest as he laughs, his hand coming to stroke your hair gently.

"that's okay, it'll be like the blind leading the blind. for now, we can just focus on…us? maybe go on a date, have dinner…" his voice is soft as you look up to him, his eyes already scanning your face for any hint of rejection. "unless you don't want to." you do, of course you do.

"i'm all sweaty, and gross. we've had a revelation about your purpose in this world, your eyes are a different color, and you want to focus on us?" your voice is laced with incredulity, a hint of amusement peeking through as it tugs at your lips. "i have my whole life to focus on other things. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? i have that answer, that piece now, but i'm already figuring this part out." squeezing your shoulder, he places a chaste kiss on your hairline, your nose scrunching.

"why did you come with me?" you poke his chest, and he smirks. "yesterday or today?"

gaping, you land a soft smack to his chest, his squeaky laughter filling your ears as your cheeks heat. "chan! not funny!" "sorry, i'm sorry! i saw an opportunity, i took it. but, i was worried about you." he starts, taking a piece of your hair between his fingers. "i saw how angry you looked before minnie spoke to you, and before you looked at me. you started looking faint when we met eyes, and i was…i was scared that something might happen to you and that i wouldn't be able to apologize for potentially overstepping boundaries, or ruining whatever little game we have going on."

"you couldn't ruin whatever this is even if you tried." you scoff, your words tumbling out before you can process them. "i've never felt anything this intense before in my entire life. my ears started ringing when i touched your chest on tuesday, here." you splay your fingers on his hoodie, in the same place.

"i couldn't hear a thing. that was me, the blockage, i was basically hearing myself. if we didn't have that moment, if you hadn't let me in, none of this would have happened." you speak softly, taking his hands in yours, his eyes glassy as he looks into yours. your smile is gentle, and he can feel his stomach flutter as you lean closer. "and i'm so glad it did. despite this whole day being so weird, despite the coven probably burning holes into the back of my head right now from hell right now, and despite the tears i can see about to spill out of your eyes, nothing could ruin this. okay?" he looks away, nibbling on his lip. your thumb strokes his cheek, catching a few stray tears as you make him face you. vision blurring, but you can see him clearer than ever.

"okay?" you insist, and he nods. "okay."

"good." pulling him towards you, you crash your lips to his, feeling your heart beating in your ears. your arms cross over his shoulders, his hands finding home on your bare waist, the kiss becoming heated. parting his lips, your tongue snakes its way in, a soft groan from chan as he pushes you back, your knees hitting the gurney.

"not in here, guys." dr. kang's voice echoes in the room, and you spring apart like teenagers. wiping at your lips, you watch as chan grabs your discarded jacket, and his bag. outstretching his hand to you, you take it, letting him rush the both of you towards the door. quickly bowing to the master sorcerers, you giggle as the cool december air hits your chest.

"yeah, y/n! nice titties, girl!" you hear a holler from down the hall, your eyes catching a glimpse of minnie's teal hair. you smile widely, waving as chan continues, a blush coating his cheeks as you begin to float behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"where are we going?" you mumble in his ear, and he shivers. "to yours. i need to show you how much you mean to me." you let the butterflies bounce around in your stomach, knowing exactly what was coming your way.

friday – january 08.

your relationship with chan had become the talk of the wizard world. several words were thrown your way, many to your detriment – but you chose to focus on 'love epiphany' and 'anomalies made to traverse together.'

he naturally passed your class with flying colors, what more could you do when he literally discovered himself? the students deemed it completely fair, with only yugyeom choosing to retake your course because he felt like he didn't really do what was necessary. mornings were filled with the buzzing of your phone – the students had made a group chat and continuously badgered you with memes, and mingyu with his graduation photos.

whereas, chan's mornings were filled with you, his phone long put on silent. your soft hair tickling his neck, only for your gentle lips to place chaste kisses along his jaw as he awoke. your warm leg draped over his waist, your knee teasing his crotch so early was something he'd never get used to. your arm, propping you up once he lazily peels an eye open, closing it the moment he sees your beaming smile, a blush coating his cheeks.

"do you always stare at me when i sleep?" he mumbles, his fingers dipping under the hem of your sleep shorts. "do birds fly?" "you're a creep, you know that?" laughing, he lets you hold his eyes open with your fingers, the indigo glow of them making you glow brighter in turn. that was what it meant, after all – the subzero color now warm, as you illuminated the room with your love for chan. "yeah? well you're creeping your fingers into my panties, so maybe shut up."

your lips are addicting, he could never get enough of them as you brush them against him. both sets, of course.

kidding. sort of. not at all. he loves you, okay? that's all that matters.

"you should check your email, channie." you murmur against his neck, and he nods his head, watching as you try not to smile. "oh i should, should i?" ignoring the raise of his eyebrow, you reach for chan's phone, plopping it on his bare chest. chan lolls his head back, hands relocating to your hips as he pulls you on top of him. your cheeks heat at the soft love bites on his pec, but shake it away as his voice snakes into your head

"you seem a little too excited, baby." he ruffles your hair as he unlocks his phone, and you just bite your lip as he scans the screen. "tell me, sorcerer, what's the news?" your voice bounces off the walls, with chan just squeezing your hip in response.

from: [email protected]

dearest bang chan,

it is our honor here at the spellbound institute of magic to let you know that you have been chosen to be published in this year's edition of the spellbound sorcerer. such an honor is only awarded to those with extraordinary skill.

we've also made the unanimous decision for you to speak at this year's annual convention, taking over the healing trifecta's booth. more information will be provided as the date approaches.

we look forward to seeing you and professor y/l/n there.

signed,

dr. kang seulgi

dr. min yoongi

master sorcerers

spellbound institute of magic

his eyes flicker to yours, your grin so wide, it's infectious. "i'm getting published." "you're getting published!" you cheer loudly, and chan feels his cheeks heat as you pepper his face in kisses. "you're getting published, baby! we have to celebrate! let's ask your parents to dinner, yeah? we can get a cabin for the weekend, so they don't have to drive home so late."

he forgets how you pried the truth about his parents out of him, but he's almost sure it was last tuesday when you made him beg for you to sit on his face. almost sure, but he doesn't really care anymore. after all, he'd warmed up to you.

"i'm so proud of you, channie." your voice is gentle as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, and he nods, burying his face in your chest as embarrassment spreads in his. "hey, you can't hide from me. what happened to the praise kink? don't you want to know how good you're doing?" "i told you that in confidence!" he swats at your leg as he nestles into your laughter. "i know! it's just me and you here, what's the problem?! let me praise you!"

"never. come on, let's read my stupid essay." he throws the comforter off his legs, and you huff as you climb off his lap. sitting up on the edge of the bed, you lean against his back, your arms hooked around his broad shoulders. the same ones full of your nail marks, a few imprints of your teeth scattered around them. "i graded it, i already read it." "well, praise me while i read it." he snorts, and you press a soft kiss to his shoulder. "mm, okay. i'll take what i can get."

bang chan

professor y/l/n

identity theory

if you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it. – tony stark, spider-man: homecoming (2017)

the fall was slow, like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement.

i've been lost before – in grocery stores, misunderstanding assignments. i've even been lost in the woods before, riddled with anxiety standing within the trees. so uniform, full of belonging. those trees know where their purpose lies.

me? i've been wandering this world not knowing where my purpose lies, what i'm meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose. this is a feeling of disorientation, isolation, off course. it's all the same anyway, isn't it?

i spent years looking for answers – from the day i was dropped off at the academy to the day i met professor y/l/n. life was well sullied with fear, a feeling of desperation as i felt my time running low. i willingly put myself in danger, hopping from dimension to dimension with the aid of some friends to find something to ease my worries, and came up empty. answers will find you, not you them.

another thing i failed to consider was that i perhaps had my answer all along. from the natural instinct to protect and take care of the people i hold close, to the agony of being away from my family – all i needed was a catalyst. something to throw me even more off course, even more confusing than what life had come to be before her.

professor y/l/n has brought me to life. truly, i could never say enough to express the appreciation i have for her, but i will attempt it any chance i get. an enigma, an anomaly, a paradigm – she is far, far more than these words could begin to define. she's selfless, she's full of light and i could never understand that. my admiration for her goes well beyond this lifetime, and like the praying mantis, she was a beacon of guidance.

her story is full of twists and turns as she allowed me to indulge. from the flickering of the glow around her, to understanding that only the deepest of her indigo hue glows for me, i'm honored to say the least. i will never get enough of her story, of her truths, of her. the idea that love lies in the hands of the beholder is entirely true in this case. to be loved is to be known, and she read me far beyond my wildest dreams the moment her golden cast laid upon me.

eckhart tolle says that, to love is to recognize yourself in another. i have never experienced something as deep as this, nor have i ever seen myself in y/n – and i'm glad i don't. my insecurities, my flaws, what i dislike about myself, are my own. however, i know she sees something i don't, and i trust that. i trust her, with my entire being. without her, i'd have no clue of my purpose. to younger me, who is still wondering the answer to that, i propose this.

your purpose is to love. love beyond your ways, love selflessly. love selfishly, like it's all you can do. like it's all you're capable of, because the moment you lay eyes on y/n? you will see, it is. loving her is all you can do. life without love is meaningless, life without her is hopeless.

taglist: @cookiesandcreammy | @alician87

(if you asked to be on the taglist and do not see yourself here, please consider checking if you have your age/year of birth in your desc! otherwise, you will not be tagged. thanks!)

433 notes · View notes

silkscream · 6 months

Text

HEAVEN SURROUNDS US

ੈ✩ summary: gojo likes that you make him feel human. admittedly, he also likes that sometimes, you make him feel like a god. ੈ✩ warnings: smut (18+), fingering, unprotected sex, slight dacryphilia, begging, soft dom!gojo, kind of mean gojo lol, workplace relations, reader can see curses but that's it, gojo has a god complex, dirty talk, not proofread bc i do not give a fuck ੈ✩ wc: 3.1k ੈ✩ a/n: i am having intense gojo brainrot. i was thinking about 'i'm your man' by mitski the entire time i was writing this btw. ALSO I LITERALLY HAD A GRAPHIC AND DIVIDERS FOR THIS BUT EVERY TIME I INCLUDE THEM this shit doesn't show up in the tags. i've given up!

Gojo Satoru has the smell of death burned into his senses to the point of complete apathy. He’s sure that Shoko feels similarly, though as a healer and a doctor, she’s often only met with the aftermath – the quiet decaying, the dried blood.

Gojo has encountered it all. The stench, the last pleas for salvation, the battered and torn-apart limbs. Even when the dying beings are cursed spirits suffering from the carnage created beneath Gojo’s hands, sometimes he wonders if an angel is nearby that weeps for them.

He has held grief inside his core to use as a weapon ever since he lost Geto. Nothing fazes him anymore. After the tragedies of his late teens, Gojo chooses to devote himself to his students rather than ruminating in sanctimonious thought loops. Gojo Satoru knows he isn’t a god, but sometimes, when he levitates in the sky with blood on his hands, he certainly feels like one. It’s safe to say that he may be the closest thing to one in the world of Jujutsu sorcery. It’s nothing that he despises – he’s known since his powers took shape in the awkwardness of his child-body.

Gojo likes to think he isn’t as cruel and indifferent as a god should be because of how protective he is. The warmth he’s had in his heart for Megumi alone confirms this as such, and now for Yuuji. Despite toying with the idea of divinity, he likes to remember that he’s human.

You are the only thing that reminds him of this.

Ever since Gojo had laid his eyes on you, he figured you were a delicate thing. He’s not completely wrong – although you can see curses, you lack any techniques. After becoming an assistant at Jujutsu Tech, he had taken more than a liking to you, more than he would be willing to admit to anyone else. He also never thought that the girl who was so quick to sardonic banter with him would be so vulnerable.

When you’re underneath him, maybe he does consider himself a god, just for a second. And then he feels the silky touch of your skin and he can’t help but wish for a life of mundanity with you until the earth stops spinning.

He likes that he can feel how fast your heart is beating. He likes that you become so pliant just from having his hand on your thigh.

It’s not like he exploits the little affair you have. It’s not that he wants to exploit you either, but the power trip that surges through him when you preen to his touch feels better than winning any battle. It’s those big eyes of yours. It’s a miracle you had reciprocated your attraction to him – he doesn’t know what he’d do to any other man who happened to pursue you. The thought of that kind of violence doesn’t make him feel any guilt. He’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant that he could have you forever, unconditionally.

Within the few months you’ve been working at Jujutsu Tech, you learn a few things about Gojo Satoru. He has an incredible sweet tooth. He cares about his students. He likes the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair. Lives for it, even, but he could never tell you that.

That’s how you ended up here, you suppose. Writhing and wet and oh so obedient for him.

You like that a man that is worshipped by all enjoys worshipping you.

“Satoru,” you whisper. The sound of your voice makes him fucking melt.

God, it’s so much worse when you beg. Satoru wants to be gentle with you, careful, because he knows that if all of his morals were thrown out the window, he would devour you completely, leaving bruises in your wake. But he waits, titillatingly, smirking as his long fingers grasp the flesh above your hips.

“Please,” you whine. Your lower half bucks up into him, squirming just a little, but he grounds you with his large hands once again.

Satoru knows better than to toy with his prey, but the flush on your cheeks is so fucking cute that he wonders what you would look like with tears rolling down the soft blush of your skin.

“Be patient, baby,” he rasps. “Just like lookin’ at you.”

“You look at me all day.”

“Someone’s got quite the attitude.”

You’re about to protest until you feel his knuckle brush against the peak of your clit, teasingly. A nasty grin spreads across his face as he grazes his fingertips along your slit, marveling at how wet you are when he’d barely touched you.

“So pretty for me,” he muses, mostly to himself.

“Should see how pretty I am when you’re inside me.”

Satoru scoffs. Despite being so human, you have quite the mouth, so much confidence in the way you move and speak that he often forgets how easy it would be to lose you. To break you. Though, of course, that privilege is for him and him only.

He kisses you to shut you up, but not nearly for long enough. You can’t even get your tongue inside his mouth. You whine pitifully as he pulls back.

“Poor baby,” he coos. “So on edge today. What’s got you so desperate like this, huh?”

“Just want you,” your voice is meek, which is an anomaly. The honey-sweet cadence of your words is barely above a whisper.

“You have me.” Unbeknownst to you, you always will, whether you tire of him or not.

He makes his point by circling the pad of his thumb to your clit while his other hand claws at your chest underneath your dress shirt. The sound of your gasp has him reeling already, has his cock rock-hard in his slacks.

“More,” you whimper. “S-Satoru, please.”

You’re surprised when you feel the palm of his hand over your mouth. You whine against his hand, soft gasps dissipating underneath his touch as your eyes roll back. You feel two fingers enter your sopping cunt and it renders you brainless, docile just how he likes you.

The rhythmic ministrations of his fingers touch upon the spot inside your core that makes your legs shake. You like being smothered by him despite your personality. You don’t even have to tell him – he knows already, he’s known ever since he noticed your reactions to him touching you casually during the working day.

The more you crave his touch, the more you become dependent on him, even when you don’t realize it. You always pride yourself on being an independent soul, refusing his insistence to pay for your meals, the way you express to him quietly that you want to be able to fight back one day. You could perfect a certain violence in between your fingers just like he can if you put your mind to it. But you have too much dignity to request his guidance as a mentor or teacher.

He thinks about it now as he touches you. The idea of him training you to use cursed techniques. The idea of him making you in his image, shaping you like he had created you himself.

If anyone truly knew the extent of how you are the object of Satoru’s affection, of his obsession, one would render him pathetic. But he knows he’s too powerful. He knows it’s easy to make you seem like the pathetic one. You’re already begging for his cock, after all.

“I‘m gonna… I’m–”

There’s a squelching sound when he retracts. His fingers are wet with your slick and you’re on the verge of tears when you feel the loss. You’re already falling apart without his touch. It doesn’t help when you watch him lick your wetness off of his own fingers.

“Why are you being so mean to me today?”

“‘m not,” Satoru purrs, licking a stripe from your collarbone to your earlobe. You try to kiss him since his face is so close to yours, but again, he restricts you. His long, slender fingers squeeze the base of your neck. “I could be a lot meaner to you, y’know. You’re lucky. This is mild compared to what I’ve thought about doing to you.”

“Wanna cum,” you whisper. You don’t even realize that there are tears falling because you’re too focused on Satoru. It isn’t fair, the way he’s toying with you. The moment he relinquishes his grip, just barely, you reach over to palm his cheek. He lets you pull the blindfold from his eyes.

“Dunno if I can let you. You’re being so greedy. Such a selfish fucking girl.” He pinches your nipple as he says it. His voice is smooth, dripping like honey, dulcet in the way his words manage to make your eyelashes flutter despite how filthy the subject matter is. He’d ruin you if he could. Perhaps, he’d ruined you the moment he touched you.

He’s touching your clit again, but not rhythmically. You feel a sense of loss every few seconds. He’s fucking teasing you now, but you’re smart enough to not snap at him despite how much you want to.

So you say his name instead. Like a hymn or a prayer. Like it’s the sweetest thing to come from your tongue. From the way your voice sounds, Satoru is convinced that his own name is a blessing just because it comes from your lips. He can’t get enough of it.

You make Satoru feel human, but the way you react to him at the moment makes him want to pretend he’s a god.

“S-Sat–Satoru. Oh.”

“You cryin’ already, baby? Thought you liked it when I played with you.”

His voice is low, raspy. Almost cruel.

Your brain is so foggy that it feels like he’s been doing this to you for hours. You can’t even form words, can’t bitch to him or dominate him the way you often attempt to. There’s a secret part of you, deep inside, that is unlocked by the way Satoru handles you. As much as he loves control, he still doesn’t know the extent of what you would let him do to you. How you wished he’d wrap a silk ribbon around your neck and collar you like a puppy. How you think you would do anything for him if he asked.

You don’t even know that he would do the exact same for you.

Now, you’re at your peak again. Your legs are wobbly, senses so heightened by the way he plays with your pussy that it takes you a few moments to notice that his cock is prodding against you, bare and pink and fucking leaking.

Maybe if you tell him you’re close, he’ll stop. You can’t stand the thought of it. So, naturally, you cry instead, and the sight makes him want to keep you for as long as he’s alive. Satoru would make sure nothing slights you, and that nothing out of his control could possibly vex you. This desire usually scares him. At the moment, it doesn’t. At the moment, he feels drunk with it.

He knows when you cum because he has you memorized. It’s a little death, truly, because when your legs tremble and your moans fade into a sharp gasp, Satoru knows for sure that your brain has turned to mush. Your body melts against his. Maybe you’d melt right into his mattress if he didn’t have more energy to play with you.

Gojo Satoru does not believe in a higher power, but he thinks that if one existed, one that was more powerful than him, he would thank them. He would thank them for you, the creation of you, the very essence of you living and breathing in the same wretched world as him. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, you were made just for him.

You recover in a succession of exhales. Blinking rapidly through blurry vision as you feel Satoru’s face nuzzling your neck, almost too domestic and sweet to bear. You had never thought of anything serious with him because of his reputation, but every time he has you like this, underneath him, you often wish that he would reassure you that he wants to keep you.

And he does. He is devoted to you in a way that feels holy. He just doesn’t know how to tell you that. Satoru hopes you can figure it out just from the way he touches you.

And maybe, like him, you’re just above human. An angel, he thinks. A set of wings would suit you.

“I– I– please–” you strain. You feel embarrassed from the tears, but Satoru cherishes you. He kisses and licks them right off your face.

“I know, baby. I won’t make you beg any more than you have,” he sneers.

You’re fucking doe-eyed, angelic when he enters you. Just the tip, for now, just so he can see how you react. It isn’t the first time but you are certainly acting the part from the way your whole face screws up. Your perfect mouth parts and he touches your bottom lip with his thumb.

You whimper like a wounded thing. Like you should be begging for mercy. He hasn’t dipped too far into his God-complex yet to coax that reaction for you.

And without a warning, he pushes himself into you completely, bottoming out. He groans at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. So warm. So fucking wet.

“Fucked you enough to mold the shape of your pussy to my cock, huh? Feels so fucking– fuck,” he exhales, rutting into you with eyes shut.

You whine his name, clutching at him, scraping your nails across his pale back. He loves the way you need him. He wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything else in the world.

Made for me. God made you for me.

You slur your words against his neck and his chest as he thrusts into you – cries of his name, of begging for more, of your usual expletives. He grins like a predator. He bends you in half and thinks briefly about breaking your limbs for the sake of his pleasure. (He doesn’t. You’re too delicate, too human.)

In reality, you’re sarcastic and sometimes brash. When Satoru has you writhing underneath him, you’re a little more shy. He wants to tease the desire from you, whatever filth that permeates in your brain.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Want– I want– aah!”

“Feels so good for you, I know. Use your words for me. I know you can,” Satoru taunts.

“Want you to make me cum on your cock. Please,” you beg. “Need it deeper, ‘Toru. Need you.”

“Need me, don’t you? Say it again so I can hear it.”

“Nngh– Need– Fuck, I can’t–”

He slows the speed of his thrusts and rubs the length of your jaw softly with his palm. His other hand rubs your clit gently, making your body spasm. He tucks the hair sticking to your forehead behind your ear so he can see all of you. You and your swollen mouth and glassy eyes.

“Don’t do that,” you whine.

“Do what, baby?”

“Teasing me like this. Wan’ it rough.”

“What else?” he breathes into your neck, palming your breast as he thrusts into you deeper.

“Want everything. Want it to hurt.”

And with that, he gives it to you. He gives you all of it.

You drape your arms around his body so that you’re closer than ever, both of your bodies ready to mesh into one if they could. Satoru pushes your legs up, knees bent and ankles near your ears, and he basks in the sound of your pathetic mewls.

“Such a good… fucking girl,” he groans. “‘m so close.”

“Me too,” you reply in a hushed tone. “Right– right there.”

Satoru has fucked you plenty of times. He’s called you a slut, a greedy whore – but he can’t bring himself to degrade you like that even though he knows you like it. You’re splayed out for him, limbs limp and grateful for his embrace. You’re too fucking precious for him.

You’re too dazed to think about the moral implications of your affair. It's a miracle you can't enter his mind so deeply when you're fucked out like this. Where his thoughts flash from lecherous to monstrous, yours are rendered sluggish. There’s almost nothing in your brain, save for him and his blue eyes and the feeling of his cock. It consumes the best of you. You welcome it with open arms.

Another kiss. It’s mostly Satoru working his tongue into your mouth and you dissolving under his tongue. He tastes so sweet, so fresh all the time. His lips are so fucking soft it drives you insane.

“Pleasemakemecum,” you cry out in a jagged mumble. “Please. Need it so bad. Please!”

He groans in response. You’re begging more than usual. You are frantic and desperate and welcoming his hand to shape you in his image.

The way he grinds into your cunt becomes more aggressive, which is easy for him. There’s no resistance – your pussy is so fucking wet for him in that way. The cloying heat in his pelvis spreads to the rest of his body, warmth enveloping him like hot water in a bath.

You whine his name again and it dissipates into his mouth.

“Cum with me, fuck, I can feel you–” he moans. Both of you reach your peak in the way he grasps your body, calloused hands worshipping the length of your waist until his fingertips bruise your thighs.

His hips stutter as he indulges in his pleasure. In the sound of your hushed whimpers. In the way your nails claw across his back.

Both of your labored breaths fill the silence. Even in the dark, you admire the brightness of his blue eyes. They could replace the divinity of the stars themselves, you muse.

Both of you are hazy, intoxicated on the touch of each others’ skin. You shiver in your skin. You’re only soothed when he buries his face into your neck, long limbs splayed over your smaller frame.

“I should fuckin’ marry you,” he breathes into your skin.

“What was that?” you raise a brow.

He clears his throat. Despite the daze, he’s able to give you one of his signature cocky grins. Something flashes in his blue eyes, you think.

“I think I wanna keep you.”

If he was god, you were his seraphim, he’s decided. He almost tells this to you, out loud, because your big eyes drink him in. He knows better.

“You have me,” you reply softly, echoing him from earlier in the night. The way he smiles reminds you of the sun.

Gojo Satoru knows it’s an affirmation from you, maybe even pillow talk. But he knows that sentiment to be truer than anything he’s ever known. He is yours and you are his.

For now, you don’t know the half of it. Maybe someday you will.

#gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk

892 notes · View notes

hotpinkstars · 2 months

Note

AHHH LOVED THE AL HAITHAM FIC SMM but if you dont mind what was going through al haithams head when he realized she left??

-> the house will never be the same again pt. 2

synopsis -> after being incredibly disrespected by your husband, alhaitham, you moved to liyue. what is going through his mind when you leave?

a/n -> AHHH i'm so happy you liked it!!! and i don't mind making a pt. 2 at all sorry this has been sitting here for a while but i hope you enjoy! here is part 1.

warnings -> all hurt no comfort, reader never turns up lol

w/c -> 1.2k

it’s been about a week now, and you’re already settled into liyue. you’ve caught the eye of a bunch of passersby in the city- a sumeru vision wielder living in liyue harbor?

thankfully, you had the traveler and a kind woman from the qixing named ganyu able to assist you with questions about the city. the first day you got there, she noticed your vision, and asked you all about it. it soon led to the two of you hitting off the start of a friendship in a nice restaurant- with ganyu telling you all of the things to do in liyue, the jobs that can be taken, and how magical the lantern rite especially is. you mentioned to her that you had a passion for the arts, and she immediately helped you look for a side job to make a little bit of mora to pay rent in your nice abode in the middle of the harbor.

“so, were your travels from sumeru alright? i’ve heard trudging through desert is not a very enjoyable experience..” ganyu questioned, a slight grin to be found on her face. “though, i have heard that the city down there is very nice. i would love to visit for myself one day, but with work and adeptal business it makes my days a little tight.”

you nod before replying. “the city is beautiful, especially at night. theres a gorgeous stage down there too, where a young woman named nilou always performs on special events. it’s always been the most majestic part of the city, or at least in my opinion.”

ganyu lets out a noise of fascination, before giggling a little. “i would love to watch her dance. nilou is a familiar name, some people here strictly go to sumeru just to see her. i bet she’s as wonderful as everyone makes her out to be.” ganyu sighs. “i wonder if she travels? we have nice performing places here, too.”

you nod. “occasionally. it mostly has to be a big event for her to arrive, though.” you take another bite of your food. “but i bet if i asked her, she’d come out for at least a few days.”

that made ganyu smile once more, before she asked another question. “well, this may be an odd question, but do you have any romantic relationships?”

“well, that's the reason i decided to move here,” now it is your turn to sigh, making ganyu have a confused look dancing across her face. “my partner and i got into an argument. he wouldn’t stop overworking himself, and i simply just wanted him to come to bed. but he’s so stubborn, and he took his work stress out on me. there was… certainly a lot of name calling.”

ganyus look of confusion immediately switches to an apologetic one. “ah, you made the right choice. that’s no way to treat your spouse.”

you nod in agreement, before finishing your dish and pushing it slightly out in front of you.

“well, i’m going to head back to my apartment now. this was very nice, we should do it again sometime!” you smile before standing and putting some money on the table. “here, this should be half. have a good night, ganyu!”

“goodnight to you too, y/n! i’ll see you soon.”

now, back on alhaithams end..

he hasn’t been home in about a week and a half, due to his work causing his presence nearly 24/7. that pretty much means he hasn’t realized you’ve left yet.

as he walks home, he doesn’t know how he would approach you. does he pretend the issue doesn’t exist? does he keep ignoring you? does he apologize? he thought his mind would split open.

as he walks through the door, he notices that the house is a little… emptier, from when the two of you lived together. he walked through the whole place, looking into the bathrooms to see your products gone. looking at the laundry room, met with no clothes that are yours hanging from the clothesline. and now, when he went to your bedroom…

your pillowcases have been stripped from the bed, and your pillow thrown into the closet. there were only a stack of two pillows, right in the middle of the bed. now his heart was thumping, and really hard. he looked through the dressers. the left side was barren, leaving only his side full. the thing that brought tears to the mans eyes was seeing your wedding ring on your side of the table.

so you really left him. he stands there, shocked, unknowing of what to do. does he try to find you, or does he let you go? oh, how he regrets ever talking to you the way he did. if he just took your advice, you would be in bed, waiting for his arrival. likely bringing him into a hug, shaking all his worries and stress away as you whispered questions along about how his day was.

the next few days felt like someone kept coming over to his desk and stabbing his back with blades like his. he felt so regretful, doing everything he can to stay composed while at the same time trying to find where you’ve gone. dehya won’t give him anything besides “somewhere close to sumeru that’s not sumeru.” that could mean you’ve gone to fontaine, liyue, or monstadt. how would he ever find you?

he’d ask the gaurds, and they all told him you went in the direction of the chasm. getting somewhere, but not close enough. he could walk all that way and come up empty handed. he doesn’t have an exact pinpoint on you yet.

he’d ask nilou. she’d just shrug and say something along the lines of “i heard what happened, but i do not know fully where they went.”

he walked the paths of the city, lost deep in thought. everyone thought it was a little out of character for someone such as him to look and feel as lost as he is. as much as people wondered what happened, they kept their mouths shut.

and for the people who noticed your absence, too, they’d ask different people who would likely have knowledge. but alhaitham didn’t know where to go now. he could walk the whole chasm and still not have you turn up. he could check every apartment complex in liyue harbor, and knock on every door on the outskirts. he could sail the seas to inazuma, and walk every separate island to see who may be housing you, or what commission you may have been taken in by. he could fall down the very waterfall that leads an entrance to the enchanting location called enkanomiya. he could go to fontaine, dive under the waters, walk every rocky mountain, and even visit the fortress of meropide. he could fight every monster near the city of monstadt, looking upon every rooftop for signs of your art, blown through the city of wind. but he still wouldn’t find you.

now what he doesn’t know is that you’re in liyue harbor, and nobody frets to tell him that anytime soon. for now, they’re just going to let him suffer, the same way he let you.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham #genshin angst #genshin x reader angst #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #alhaitham x reader angst

389 notes · View notes

vidavalor · 8 months

Text

The Blitz, Part 3 Theory: The clues that suggest what it might be about & how it's affected what's come after it

I rewatched 2.04/The Blitz, Part 2 last night and a moment stood out to me that made me think I have an idea of what might happen in the flashback we all seem to have collectively agreed is almost certainly in S3-- The Blitz, Part 3.

When Crowley & Aziraphale are in the magic shop and Glozier is there in the background, the camera jumps to a pretty significant reaction shot for Glozier when Aziraphale tells Crowley that he has a Derringer hidden in a hollowed-out book in the bookshop. I think everyone sees that bit as important-- it's a literal Chekhov's gun sitting out there for the future story, after all-- but I was thinking about why it matters that one of the Zombie Nazis overheard this when they're... ya know... zombies. Their methods of murder tend to be a little more direct, yeah? lol What do they need a gun for when they eat people to death? But then it hit me why it will matter that Glozier heard this... it's not about the Zombie Nazis, exactly. It's about Furfur.

When we leave Furfur in 1941, he's just been embarrassed in front of The Dark Council by Aziraphale, who has swapped out the picture of him and Crowley for a flyer for the Ladies of Camelot, right? They literally laugh in Furfur's face. Furfur's entire plot in 1941 is about how he's been stuck in processing for millennia and he's trying to get out of it-- about how he's jealous of Crowley and the few others who get to go to Earth. He's dealt slight after slight after slight during this night in 1941. He fails to get proof against Crowley, who doesn't even remember him. He gets shamed and embarrassed in front of the higher-ups and his peers. His fledging... whatever it is exactly lol... with Shax-- who is the closest thing he has to a friend-- is damaged as she's gone out on a limb for him and he hasn't delivered. Most terrible, he's sure he's never going to get out of his miserable eternity of grunt work. He's *very, very, very* unhappy and boxed into a corner, right? So what does Furfur want, now that he's stuck in Hell forever and all of it is laughing at him?

Revenge. He wants revenge.

In the short term, he also wants someone to scream at, so he goes back up to Earth and finds the Zombie Nazis, who are roaming around London eating people. They can't go very quickly so they haven't gotten far and aren't hard to find lol. Furfur knows it's not exactly their fault that he was tricked by the angel as, technically, they completed the tasks they were given, but he's furious and he needs to vent it, so he starts yelling that he's going to revoke their zombie-life-on-earth clauses. (Even *the Nazi zombies* get to be on Earth and Furfur does not? Yeah, he's not going to be able to handle that...)

The Zombie Nazis, understandably after seeing that video he showed them in Part 2, start freaking out because they don't want that whole fly fate for all of eternity and they don't know how to reach anyone beyond Furfur so they'll do anything to keep Furfur from taking out his humiliation on them. Upon hearing that this is all about how Aziraphale tricked Furfur and got him humiliated by Hell, the Zombie Nazis start desperately suggesting that it's not too late! They can help Furfur still get Crowley and Aziraphale! Even if Hell thinks Furfur is a joke and won't listen to him about the angel and demon being involved, they can still help Furfur get revenge!

They bring Furfur to outside the bookshop to find Crowley and Aziraphale because that's where the Zombie Nazis say they saw them together earlier & they know Aziraphale lives there. Furfur's in a rage because through a side window, he's observing Crowley and Aziraphale drinking wine together by candlelight in what is the "I know you'd come through for me" scene from Part 2-- and Aziraphale even has the photo Furfur took of them earlier in his hand. (Insert here more of the recurring gag about Harmony lip-reading as now he's also looking through the window and probably gets a line like "he is saying it again! 'banana fish go-RILL-ah...'").

So Furfur is in a fur-furious rage here and is ready to murder these two but... there's just one *slight* problem...

He's a demon.

He can't get into the bookshop.

Aziraphale would have to invite him in and he's certainly not going to after their meeting earlier. But! This is when Furfur and the Nazis realize that there is someone in their group who *can* get in the bookshop...

....our fave fascist, Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt.

As "Rose", Greta recruited Aziraphale-- entering his bookshop when she was a human, invited in by Aziraphale. She can still get into the bookshop. (It's also a parallel to Shax tricking Aziraphale into letting her into The Bentley in S2.)

Once Furfur and the Nazis realize this, the question then becomes: okay, so if Greta can get into the shop, how is she then going to kill Aziraphale and Crowley? (*Especially* Aziraphale, whom Furfur really, really, really loathes at this point lol.)

This is when we go back to the scene that triggered this meta, which is that this is when Glozier then volunteers the information he overheard in the magic shop-- that there's a Chekhov's gun in the bookshop.

The Derringer works as a weapon here to do that because, as Furfur himself pointed out during the magic show earlier, if Crowley had shot Aziraphale in the face, it wouldn't just be paperwork but it might not be possible for them to "put him back together again"-- indicating that there are some things that can happen to angels and demons that are irreversible and can effectively kill them, more or less-- and a gunshot to the head is one of them.

(I'm also realizing as I'm writing this that that Glozier's *ear* falling off in the magic shop is another nod to him having *heard* important information and so far, we've only seen half of what he heard pay off-- the time and location of Aziraphale's performance in the West End. We're still awaiting pay off of the gun bit.)

My bet is that Aziraphale's Derringer in a hollowed out book is something he actually *showed "Rose" like the cinnamon roll idiot that he is* lol... so once Glozier brings it up, Greta remembers and she knows what book it's in and exactly where it is in the shop.

So Furfur still cannot get in but Greta can get in... which means Greta is now the most powerful character here. If Furfur wants Aziraphale dead, Greta can make that happen... *if* they cut a deal. What kind of deal? Well, the only thing Greta is going to want that she thinks that Furfur could give her is to not be a zombie, right? To be alive again? Reverse the clause in the paperwork and give her her life back. Whether or not Furfur can actually do this (and I'm not sure if he can or not, really, but I'd wager probably not), Furfur tells Greta that he can and she and the other Nazis believe him.

The plan is that the four of them go to the bookshop, where Furfur activates a miracle blocker card for a few hours surrounding the shop in an effort to limit Crowley and Aziraphale's powers and give the Zombie Nazis the advantage. Once the miracle blocker is in place, Greta goes inside while Harmony and Glozier make noise outside, in an effort to separate Crowley and Aziraphale to make it easier to kill them by attempting to lure one of them outside. Greta is to kill the one that stays inside the bookshop while Harmony and Glozier are supposed to kill the one that goes outside. (This will not happen according to plan at all, whatsoever, but it does seem like the most likely plan these four characters could form where they all have a role in it.)

So because Greta is the only one who can get inside, she has go to into the bookshop and be the one who can kill, most likely in their mind, Aziraphale. She'll still be a staggering zombie when the extremely bright Furfur sends her in there to obtain and fire a gun at a pair of supernatural beings lol but she manages to sneak in the back door without Crowley and Aziraphale really hearing the breaking & entering... or whatever noises the other two are making outside... as Crowley and Aziraphale are a little busy gazing at one another.

It would actually be a really funny, very Good Omens-y gag IMHO, if Greta is colossally unsubtle in entering the other side of the shop from where Crowley & Aziraphale are and is banging into stuff while Harmony and Glozier keep coming up with more and more insane noises outside... but Crowley and Aziraphale are too busy making heart eyes at one another to care or do anything about it. A very "did you... hear that?"/"oh, must be the war, let's go back to gazing" type of attitude with a steadily increasing series of sounds that are harder and harder to dismiss but they are trying, ok? lol. (This would also parallel Aziraphale ignoring the demons outside for as long as he could during The Ball in S2, until the bookshop begins literally breaking around them.)

So while we watch scenes of Furfur and The Zombie Nazis Hatch A Plot, the relationship tension between Crowley & Aziraphale is building as much as the plot tension. They intercut Furfur & the Nazis scenes with Crowley & Aziraphale having quiet, romantic, candlelit glasses of wine after their very intense and illuminating evening together. Each time we go back to Crowley & Aziraphale... they seem to be getting increasingly cozier. They sit a little closer, they get a little looser around one another. Crowley's glasses might come off. We get the sense that this is all Going Somewhere and it's somewhere they've never let themselves go before but after the events of Blitz 1 & 2 tonight? It's becoming increasingly clear to them that they will. There's virtual certainty that if *nothing else happens* to these two tonight and they're just left alone for once, they're at least going to kiss and what we're watching is them slowly enjoying the path there and them enjoying silently knowing that they're going to.

At some point, we hop from the Nazis back over to Aziraphale asking Crowley if he'd like a little music... Aziraphale might even have something *modern* kicking around, he's excited to tell Crowley (like he might have been totally not at all fantasizing about this exact Crowley-dashing-in-his-suit-with-a-glass-of-wine-smoldering-in-the-bookshop scenario when he bought this record from Maggie's grandfather recently lol)... and he goes over to the gramophone to put it on and now we've got Crowley and Aziraphale with candlelight and wine and music and they're each just taking step after slow little step that slowly acknowledges the romance at play here. Aziraphale's record is probably Glenn Miller. We know he likes big band and The Bentley played him "Moonlight Serenade" in S2 and Glenn Miller also recorded "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", so it's one record where "Moonlight" could play and then, eventually, so too could "Nightingale" without Aziraphale getting up and moving away from Crowley... and you better believe that when we get to "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" playing that Crowley and Aziraphale are a literal breath away from kissing.

It'd be completely perfect to them, right? Very romantic. They're there together, alone, they've survived the Nazis and Mrs. H and threats of Hell and have spent the night gazing at one another and now they're here and it's quiet and there's candlelight and it's the familiar, comforting bookshop that is home for both of them... the same place, ironically, that they will drink wine together and make eyes at one another *for decades* after this night-- without Aziraphale putting on The Song, of course-- and you know they will think about 1941 every. single. time. while never actually recreating it.

(It's also why, when they're both wasted in the bookshop in S1's "Eleven Years Ago", Crowley is rambling on about bananas and gorillas and bouillabaisse/fish stew-- ya know, "banana fish gorilla..."-- and they're both so drunk and thinking about how they're almost out of time... and so they're both thinking of 1941 and wind up making those hilarious kissy faces at one another because they both obviously still want to actually kiss some 80 years after the night they almost did. Crowley also calls Aziraphale "baby" in the middle of his ramble. He might have called Aziraphale that in 1941, when they weren't drunk and were on their way to kissing. He also might have just wanted to, so it turned up in "Eleven Years Later" and might come up again later on in the present of S3, whenever they inevitably get to finally have a decent, uninterrupted, not painful kiss.)

Back in 1941, as we flip between Furfur/The Nazis and our heroes, maybe Crowley's even gotten comfortable enough to lose the glasses (though he can leave them on if he still has the hat on when they go to kiss so that he can take the hat off like a gentleman to kiss Aziraphale *swoon* and actually that's how Aziraphale died everyone surprise twist he's been dead since 1941 an a ghost this whole time lol)... and there's romantic big band on the record player and there was magic in the air and angels were dining at the Ritz when a nightingale sang in Bahhhrrrrk. Leeeeee. Square... and they're *almost* there, right? They're basically kissing. There is no way for either of them to ever legitimately pretend that was not was going to happen (even if they will try in the future lol) as their lips were a millimeter away and both of them want it and just like this and it's been six thousand years of pining and so, of course, that is when...

...Greta zombie-crashes into the room with Aziraphale's once-hidden Derringer aimed at them.

(Aziraphale's probably furiously muttering "oh good Lord" under his breath with a very different tone than in 1793 lol. That is his attitude, at least, if not the dialogue.)

So then they have to try to protect one another right and it's mild chaos for a moment as like Crowley starts looking out the window at Furfur and the rest of the Zombie Nazi Trio (paralleling his demons-outside-the-bookshop paranoia in S2) and realizes they were the noise while Greta is all "pity you both must die" again with a little smirk and Aziraphale is trying to calm her down and reason with her while also subtly trying to get close enough to get the gun and she probably fires but she's a zombie so she misses lol and he's like glancing over for Crowley and Crowley seems to disappear for a moment while Aziraphale stalls Greta and just when we think where the hell did Crowley go?! Aziraphale is about to be shot in the face!...

...Greta is shot in the face instead.

By Crowley.

With The Bullet Catcher.

And the bullet that was in Aziraphale's teeth a couple of hours ago.

Crowley has not so much has blown the fluff off a dandelion since he arrived on Earth six thousand years ago but you interrupt his first kiss with the angel and you. are. dead, you Nazi bitch...

I don't have a theory as to what happens after this beyond that we already know that Furfur is in Requisitions in the present now so he's going places lol. Also worth mentioning that Crowley or Aziraphale (I'd lean towards Crowley) could get shot by Greta's wild aim when they are trying to protect one another but it would be more of a graze that one could write a hundred h/c fics over than anything worth actually worrying about lol. It could be something like Crowley gets nicked but goes down as dramatically as he does in the paintball scene in S1 and Aziraphale is horrified but also fighting for his own life so he winds up focused on Greta and neither of them see Crowley slip away to come back with The Bullet Catcher... something like that. I'm just pretty sure that the fact that there are really *two* Chekhov's guns in the bookshop and that Greta is the only 1941 antagonist who can get inside it maths out to Crowley-- shooting her with The Bullet Catcher.

I'm not sure what happens to Harmony and Glozier. Aziraphale says in S1 that he's never killed anything so he can't kill anyone here and while I'm fine with Crowley mowing down Nazis with every Chekhov's gun left in the plot lol, I don't know that that's what happened or if, honestly, the two of them and Furfur just see Greta die through the window and run off. Maybe Aziraphale miracles the Nazis to Siberia. Who knows. But the main gist of it, I think, is that Crowley kills Greta when the Zombie Nazis and Furfur try to exact revenge on Crowley & Aziraphale and, in doing so, interrupt what would have been their first kiss and it's while "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is on in the background so that every time the song comes up in the future, it's a reference to this near-kiss in 1941, adding layers to scenes from Soho 1967 to the end of S1 to the end of S2, etc...

Kind of makes Crowley desperately kissing Aziraphale in the middle of the bookshop while a vengeful Heaven, this time, is trying to separate them, even more aldkjlkfjlewje, yeah?

I'd also like to just throw in here that it's actually possible that all of this is the same but they *did* kiss... that they were kissing when Greta burst in. Part of me really wants that to be the case. That maybe they did get to have this kiss, if only because even if only a tenth of what I've said above is anywhere close to right, it's still pretty romantic and it would be nice if they got to have that, especially then, even if it was ultimately interrupted. It's Soho 1967, though, that convinced me that they came *very* close but ultimately didn't (and honestly, the only way they don't in 1941 if they get that close is if they're interrupted and an armed Zombie Nazi crashing through the bookshop feels about right lol.) It's this bit from Aziraphale to me that says they almost kissed but didn't:

The picnic was likely Crowley's 1827 date in Edinburgh. The Gabriel statue was there for amusement but you know Crowley had a picnic set up nearby. (It's not that weird-- people used to picnic in graveyards in the 1800s & the only time Crowley & Aziraphale would be able to together would be under the cover of darkness.) Then, they ran into Elspeth and the night took a turn. (Elspeth was also digging up bodies from graves, which is a parallel to zombies, hooking 1827 to 1941.) Dining at the Ritz-- literally going to The Ritz and eating together, which they do twice in S1-- is something Aziraphale would literally like to go do as a date as but it's also code in the 1967 scene for "perhaps, one day, we could finish 1941." He's telling Crowley in 1967 that he would still very much like to kiss him one day.

The near-kiss in 1941 would then also be what gives Aziraphale the motivation to eventually give Crowley the holy water in 1967. Back in 1863, Aziraphale didn't totally see that Crowley wanted holy water to protect them. By 1941, when they're staring at the corpse of a once-Zombie Nazi on the floor of the bookshop that Crowley just killed with the gun that's in his hands, it's a different sort of proof. 1941 becomes the era of 'here is proof that Crowley will literally kill to protect Aziraphale' and maybe it freaks Aziraphale out a little (as well as also turning him on a lot lol). Maybe that's why they spend the next years after that until the '60s together but not really together. Maybe that's why they don't have another chance at the kiss after 1941-- why they don't just try again-- because Aziraphale slows down a bit after it, afraid that Crowley could get hurt and that this is too dangerous, but he also understands now that Crowley is in love with him and when he hears in 1967 that Crowley is going after Holy Water, Aziraphale just gives him some, as a way of saying that he knows they're in love but this is impossible and they need to not pursue this in a way that will get them killed because he can't lose him.

A near-kiss in 1941 adds layers to 1967 Soho by adding an additional meaning of 'physical intimacy' to "dining at the Ritz". It adds even more weight to the end of S2 and the kiss and the "no nightingales" through to the Tori Amos angsty cover of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" in The Bentley. There are other scenes (the end of S1 and others) that it touches as well, if indirectly, but maybe my favorite is this scene, which has already been given extra layers of meaning since The Blitz, Part 2 and The Bullet Catcher plot but lol now add in the idea that the rest of the story is that Crowley and Aziraphale were going to kiss and they were interrupted in the moment, shot at with at least one of them probably getting nicked, and then Crowley killed someone with The Bullet Catcher and tell me it doesn't make this already amazing sequence even more amazing:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens theory #good omens 1941 #good omens meta #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

849 notes · View notes

devoted-tiefling · 8 months

Text

a/n: my astarion brain rot has produced a thing. i've finally obsessed over this stupid scene to the point where i regurgitated this. have fun becos i certainly didn't

warning: allusions to spoilers, allusions to a lot of astarion's scenes, spoilers okay there's spoilers, mentions of mistreatment by others, no names or pronouns but this is my blind tiefling ranger oc, still in second person reader insert point of view though LOL

You sat almost stock still, your eyes looking like they were staring thoughtfully into the bonfire but, in reality, you saw only darkness. Your tiefling ears, though, heard everything. They twitched as you took stock of where everyone was.

Your bear familiar laid beside you, his fur brushing against your side, his head pressed to the outside of your thigh. You could hear the ever present grinding of Lae'zel as she sharpened her weapons for the dozenth time. You couldn't hear Shadowheart but she meditated so often that it was common not to know.

Wyll was somewhere near his tent, rifling through his things, preparing for the journey ahead. Gale was looking at himself using magic.

Of course, all of that didn't seem to matter because Astarion, as always, sat silently beside you, his calloused fingers making pleasant sounds against the parchment of the book he was leafing through.

"Astarion," you called out, your own hand still laid atop your bear's sleeping head "Can I ask you for a favor?"

Astarion stopped flicking through the book in his lap to hum, his red eyes darting to you in suspicion. "And what would your favor be, darling?"

You wouldn't have been able to tell, of course, seeing as you couldn't see, but he looked at you with a doubt that could only come from people who've been burned by others too much.

When he had hummed, you turned your head to face him, the jewels hanging from your horns twinkling. Your eyes were unseeing but Astarion always felt slightly unnerved by how it felt like they were staring straight into him.

Your hands lifted into the air, poised as if you were cupping some invisible thing in between them "Can I touch your face?"

Astarion was definitely taken aback. He even flinched a little, eyebrows scrunching, mind reeling.

You were asking to touch his face?

When you didn't hear a response, you smiled almost sadly, a pitying chuckle leaving your lips "Sorry, i-it's fine if it makes you uncomfortable. You don't have to. I know some people react badly when I ask."

"It's just. I'm able to find my way around through the noise and my other senses but I've never been able to put physical features to all of your names and voices." You explained, fingers curling a little, hesitating, hovering as if you weren't sure you could convince him "But out of everyone, I've especially wanted to know the face behind your melodic voice."

That didn't end up clarifying anything for Astarion.

First of all, though he'd been through his share of flattery and praise, he'd never heard his voice described as melodic before.

Second, he'd never told anyone but even he didn't know what he looked like. Astarion had a mirror he'd carry with him, something to peer into with desperation, but he always saw the same thing he'd always see: nothing.

That was, maybe, where his hesitation came from. He didn't know how monstrous he looked as a vampire.

Not hideous, of course. He knew he was handsome because he'd been able to lure many a woman and even a few men to their demises. No, he feared he looked monstrous the same way Cazzador looked monstrous; more than beautiful enough but always the cruelty bled through and revealed itself.

Still, Astarion couldn't find it in himself to deny you. You, who so graciously defended him against all the others in your little group. You, who bled for him every night and still looked at him like he had some humanity left in him. You, who intrigued him at every step.

"Perhaps you can tell me what I look like then." He decided to joke in that same pompous tone he used when he felt a bit too vulnerable "I haven't been able to see myself in hundreds of years."

You frowned at that but your expression immediately turned to one of curiosity "Really?"

"Astarion nodded before moving to place his face into your hands.

Your hands were almost unbearably warm against his almost chilling skin, your claws, as long as his, brushing against the apples of his cheeks.

As soon as you realised his face was in your hands, your face scrunched into an expression of concentration.

First, you brushed your thumbs over his skin, under his eyes, to his cheeks, up to his temples. You looked contemplating, like you really were forming a picture in your mind.

"Well, you have very nice laugh lines." You smiled, gently, sweetly, in a way that made Astarion's undead heart almost beat.

"Preposterous. I'm a vampire, not your homely grandmother. I do not age." He answered you, rolling his eyes, and you could feel the way his expression contorted into an exasperated one underneath your very hands.

You just laughed "I like it. You know, you sound very handsome when you laugh."

Another exasperated noise but you ignored it in favour of brushing your thumbs over his eyebrows "I can tell you furrow your eyebrows often."

"You can tell something like that?" Astarion sounded disbelieving.

You nodded "I lived in Baldur's Gate but we didn't have a home really. We moved from place to place. But I had my own little ragtag family and they would let me practice on their faces; they'd let me touch as they laughed and smiled and grew angry or sad."

Astarion almost wanted to ask you to continue but, from your expression, he felt as if it wasn't the time or place.

"My mother always fretted over everyone; she'd have wrinkles right here because she furrowed her eyebrows so much." You pressed in between Astarion's eyebrows, thumb running over it as if trying to flatten away his worries, before moving back to the corners of his eyes "And whenever my friend smiled, her eyes would upturn right here."

"I bet you look gorgeous smiling, Astarion."

Then, you moved on, moving back down his face, down to his lips. You traced the corners of his mouth, feeling for something that Astarion couldn't understand.

All of it was beyond Astarion's comprehension. He wasn't a stranger to compliments but it felt like yours reached somewhere deep inside him and brought it peace.

Something about it all both tranquilized him and unnerved him all the same.

"You must smirk a lot. I bet you look boyishly handsome when you do. Your voice always sounded so mischievous to me." You huffed, sounding jokingly tired of his antics before running your left thumb over his lips, feeling both the softness and the roughness of it under your fingertip "And you bite your lips a lot. I can feel the scars of it. Though I doubt it would be noticeable to anyone else. Your lips are soft either way. It's a very pretty shape."

Astarion recalled all the countless nights of him biting away cries of pain, cries of agony, the way he'd always bite his lip in frustration and anger. Nobody had ever noticed that, not until you, and it felt like sharing a secret.

Then, as suddenly as your request had come, you pulled away, that gentle touch that soothed a part of Astarion gone as soon as it had been offered.

"Sorry." You looked sheepish, embarrassed "I know a lot of people don't like others touching their face, especially a Tiefling."

Before you could truly pull away though, Astarion pulled your hands back to his face, sandwiching them in between his cold calloused palms and the soft chill of his cheeks.

"It's fine, darling, I don't care." He tried to build his walls back up and, at the same time, let you in "I, for one, always welcome compliments, no matter what the type."

Your thumbs hesitantly, slowly, reached his eyes. You felt his eyelashes flutter close before you were feeling his eyelids, velveteen and twitching. Your thumbs mapped over it, over the shape and the dips of his eyes.

"What color are your eyes?" Your thumbs moved on, again feeling the corners of his eyes, brushing over them in circles as if comforting Astarion somewhat.

"Red, like any vampire's." Astarion answered easily enough, swallowing down a memory of Cazzador's striking red eyes.

"I can tell they're very kind; sharp around the corners but round everywhere else. I bet your stare is very enchanting." You laughed a little in that breathy tinkling way you always did.

Astarion frowned a little, still disbelieving, unable to accept words like 'kind' to describe him.

Then, finally, your hands moved away from his face entirely, your fingers suddenly combing through his hair, feeling it in between your fingers and with your very fingertips "Oh, you have such curly hair!"

"It used to be something else, I think." He tried to recall but quickly grew frustrated when the information didn't come easily "But now it's white."

"Oh, Astarion." You sighed, hands finally coming out of his hair to cup his cheeks "You're so handsome. I'm so glad to finally know what you look like."

Astarion nodded, trying to brush your painfully sincere words off but, instead, they struck him, buried deep inside him.

If you felt a slight bit of wetness in the corners of his eyes, you didn't mention it.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #oneshot #x reader

974 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs