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inkedtae · 4 years

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fountain of fantasies ⇾ jjk. [M]

⟶ from the eros universe; you do not need to read eros to read this one shot

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ god!jungkook x curvy!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ s2l, greek mythology au, circa. 1800 au, historical au, light fluff, angst, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ you rather be engaging in heart racing activities than in heart breaking ones

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 15.6k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!jungkook, bigdick!jungkook, buff!jungkook, winged!jungkook, longhair!jungkook, ponytail!jungkook, sub!reader, slightly insecure!reader, shy!reader, mentions and consumption of alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it folks), rough sex, playful-ish sex, semi-public sex, fountain sex, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, slight degradation, overstimulation, exhibition, a lil voyeurism, praise kink, anal, edging, squirting, choking, hair pulling, bodyworshipping, a lil motorboating, a lil begging, water play, a lil spit play, a lil breast play, ass play, a fountain of filth :)

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m too much of a hoe for greek god guk not to turn this into a mini-series...

⤜ banner by ↠ @thebannershop (thank you dearie~)

⤜ beta’d by ↠ @moonmintrails (my soulmate~)

⤜ le playlist ↠

Plump plum juices leak from your violet stained lips. You watch the storm rage through the balcony windows. Flashes of lightning, streaks of raindrops and the wall-rattling thunder only stares back at you. The noise of the world around you would be just the perfect cover for all the sounds he draws out of you. Teeth sinking into the fruit’s flesh, you take another bite and fix your stockings. Topless, you lean back in your plush seat and cross your legs.

You know he’s not coming. It’s been a week since his last visit, a week of staying up late only to fall asleep and wake up to a new toy. You glance at your bed. The collection of gifts under it do not compensate for his absence. You don’t want the ruby dildos or golden anal plugs. You can live without the silver tit-clamps and sapphire pearled whips. It’s him you won’t do without.

But tonight would be a perfect night of fun. You swallow your bite before taking another one as your mind circles every dirty thought you’ve been wanting to entertain for the last seven days. Staring out the rain stained windows, the one that appeals to you the most for tonight would be on that balcony, where it started all those months ago. The thought of being drenched in rainwater while he bends you over the railing makes you squeeze your crossed legs together. And the fluttering flap of his wings as they shake out the storm prickles your skin with goosebumps. Wet hands tangled in your wet hair. Loud moans blended in the loud thunder.

An urgent knock raps on your door. You sit up, letting out a shaky breath from the remnants of that fantasy. As you set your plum down by some grapes on the side table, you shoot to your feet to grab your robe.

“Bunny,” Mary, your sister, whispers from the other side.

The little childhood nickname brings a smile to your face. The two of you would play Wonderland in the garden as children and Mary would have you, Bunny, guide her down the right path. Now, she only ever calls you that when she’s nervous and struggling to admit it.

Tying the robe around your waist, you eagerly let her in. “What is it, Mary?” You smile as she rushes past you.

She doesn’t take a moment to properly greet you, darting to your little library instead. “Do you have that book about Mount Olympus?” She asks. Her freshly painted nails scrape over the spines of each book as you part your lips to reply. “Oh! Here it is!”

Returning to your seat, you watch your older sister skim through the pages. “Why the sudden interest in Greek gods?”

“Michael mentioned something about Hera and I just wanted to- I knew it!”

Chewing on another bite, you raise a brow at her. “I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear that tomorrow,” you chuckle around your food.

Mary pauses. Her eyes, previously gleaming with excitement, diminish into indifference. She clears her throat and shuts the book. “Mama says to never correct a man.”

You stuff your mouth with a big bite and avoid your sister’s gaze. There’s lots you have to say about your mother’s philosophy on love, but you know better than to voice those opinions.

Mary continues talking, despite knowing your reservations about your mother. She holds the book to her chest and tentatively sits on your bed. “Mama wants me to talk to you about something.”

Slowly chewing, you glance at her. You already know where this is going. It’s another desperate attempt on your mother’s part to make sure you don’t wear the dress he had gifted you. She knows full well how much it reveals and how well it’s designed. You don’t care for your mother’s opinion though; you haven’t for months. It’s Mary’s opinion on the subject that matters to you.

“But, I told her that I don’t want to lie to you.” She takes a moment to sigh then meets your gaze once more. “You’ll look gorgeous in that dress, Bunny,” she smiles. “And I have the perfect shoes for them too.”

A laugh bubbles out of your throat and you almost choke on your food. Mary laughs at your struggling state. “Oh, can we get ready for your party together?” You ask, perking up in your seat once you properly swallow your food.

Mary’s excited gaze wavers. She glances back at the book before hesitantly nodding. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing…”

You give her a pointed look. Flopping down on the bed, Mary groans and stares up at the ceiling. “What do you think of Michael?” You part your lips to reply, but she continues, “I mean I know he’s from a good family, and can take care of me, and he’s so handsome.”

You bite your lip at the last comment. Michael is not exactly your type of heartthrob. But, then again, your senses have been obscured by a god, so now not a single person can look as handsome, as beautiful, as heavenly as your Eros.

“But, he says and does things I’m not exactly…” She trails off. “And I think his previous courtship with Linette ended horribly.”

Her half-sentence rings some warning in your gut. However, by the way she avoids eye contact to stare at your crystal chandelier, you decide not to address it. “What makes you think so?” you ask instead.

“Well, that’s what he told me.”

Resisting the urge to scoff, you simply quirk a brow. Mary may be a couple of years older, but she still hasn’t grown out of her naive tendencies. You’re about to tell her that everything will be okay when you catch a familiar silhouette on your balcony.

He’s here.

Mary shoots up off your bed. You fear for a second that she may have seen him, but then she asks, “So? What do you think?”

Gulping, you take a moment to collect your thoughts. Erasing the fact that he’s finally here from your mind, you try to remain focused on your sister. You want the best for her. You want her to be excited about who she marries and for the life she will spend with that person. And that’s why it takes you a world of restraint not to tell her that if she isn’t a hundred percent sure about marrying Michael, then maybe she shouldn’t.

“Do you love him, Mary?” You ask. “And I don’t mean that ‘nobility’ love. I mean that, ‘makes you cry just thinking about losing him’ love.”

Mary hesitates.Your eyes flicker to the balcony where he continues to stand. Inhaling deeply, you silently ask him to wait just a second longer.

“I think I do,” she smiles.

Your heart shatters at her phrasing. I think. Where is the room for thinking when true love is at your door? You want to tell her that there shouldn’t be any of this ‘thinking’ nonsense. You either do or you don’t, you want to say. But her smile is so pure and eyes light up just enough that you don’t have the heart to take it all away. Besides, maybe she really does love him.

“Then, I think he’s perfect for you.”

Mary grabs the book and jumps to her feet. “Let’s meet in my room at seven,” she smiles, ruffling through your hair on her way to the door. “Have a good night, Bunny.”

“You too,” you smile as she shuts the door with a wink. The gesture is unusual but you suppose she’s just excited about the party tomorrow. You’re not exactly sure why she did it and with a winged god at your door, you can’t find it in you to care for too long.

Darting to the balcony, you pull open the doors to be greeted by empty winds and heavy raindrops. Those wings are gone, balcony vacant of anything but despair. Not even a gift replaces his presence. You hold your tears back and swallow the growing lump in your throat. Your time is not one of his toys, nor is it free. You’ve run out of patience. You’re empty of reason, thriving on broken feelings.

Shakily sighing, you bury the hurt in your voice and whisper, “if you can’t stay, don’t come at all.”

Sparkling diamonds, glasses, and wine circle the ballroom. Sipping on your drink, you take in the gleaming marble floors and the arches of the grand windows. The Barbury Estate is twice the size of yours. You want to believe that your mother’s delight in Mary’s proposal has more to do with her happiness than the fact that her fiancé is riddled with more wealth than he knows what to do with. But, you know that your mother has a special bond with money. It’s the same relationship she has with social standards. Her philosophy is simple; the more, the better. Now, if only your mother felt that way about you.

No, wait. This night is not about you. An evening lost in a grand room of people only appeals to you when the occasion for such torture is your sister’s engagement party. Your chest swells with pride as you watch Mary dance with her fiancé. Michael Barbury is not exactly what you would call ‘prince charming.’ His jokes border on racism and thoughts are somewhat insipid, but he makes Mary happy. That’s all that matters to you. Her relapse in judgement last night does worry you. But you know that she’ll be happy with Michael. With Eros gone, you wonder how soon you’ll find a love like that too.

Mary’s graceful giggles cut you out of your trance. You blink once, twice until your senses fully return to you. Even the smallest thought of him throws you out of your consciousness. Settling your eyes back on your sister, watching as she basks in Michael’s unwavering attention and dotting devotion, you’re greeted with a sense of comfort. The guilt of not speaking your truth disappears and the fear of never finding love dissipates to the back of your mind.

“Miss (Y/N)?” Lee Kyon asks, waving his hand in front of you.

Right, you forgot he was there. Turning to face him once more, you flash Kyon a somewhat kind smile. “Yes, Mr. Lee?”

He furrows his brows. “Is everything alright?”

Perhaps everything would be alright if your mother didn’t constantly feel the need to set you up with the first poor man that accidently looks your way. Yes, you’re well aware of your mother’s behaviour and the fact that Kyon has no real interest in getting to know you. Judging by the way he continues to loop back to the same dull topic about the history of wine, you can tell that he is merely trying to keep the conversation short enough to be polite, but not long enough to be courting you.

It’s not as though you care for his company either. Kyon has half of Michael’s intelligence. Even though you were only half-listening to his rant, you already pick out the few historical inaccuracies in his unprompted explanation. Of course, the worst thing you can do to a man is attack his wits and pride; that’s what your mother tells you anyway. It’s what worried Mary last night too. And you’ve tested that theory enough to know how true it is and how fun it can be. Watching them grapple for the right words, flare their nostrils in frustration and demand you apologize will always be just as humorous as when they try to “teach” you about language or art or, in Kyon’s case, history.

Biting back a sigh, you nod and silently pray for a way out of this boring conversation and into something a bit more exciting.

Clearing his throat, Kyon searches for a way to fill the silence. He then half-heartedly mutters, “You look darling this evening.”

Glancing down at your dress, your face heats up. The tiger lily-peach layers of satin and tulle fall down to your ankles. The pleated skirt mirrors the petals of a flower. Cleavage on display, the long flowy sleeves fall off your shoulders. Finished with a green ribbon around your waist and gleaming pink jewels, this is possibly the best dress he has gifted you.

Your Eros left it, no wait- he’s not yours anymore. A friend left it hanging in your closet one morning after another passionate night in his embrace. It was a beautiful surprise to be woken up to and a manageable struggle to explain how it came into your possession. You can’t help but find it a bit ironic how your mother is desperate to set you up with the first man she sees, but hesitant to dress you up for the occasion. He must have known, must have felt your frustration towards your mistreatment.

It takes everything in you to fight off the smile playing on your lips. You glance back up at Kyon, parting your lips to thank him when he continues, “And how brave of you to wear such a dress.”

You pause. “Brave?”

Kyon smiles and nods.

Is he really telling you what you think he is? Is he really undermining your confidence, undermining the beauty you know you have by commending your ‘bravery?’ No, you mustn’t judge too quickly. Perhaps he’s admiring your choice to go against expectations of covering up with a shawl.

You swallow back your initial assumptions, and decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Mr. Lee?”

“Well,” Kyon starts. He looks off to the side and raises both his brows before looking to you once more. His hazel eyes scan your figure, jaw clenching as he clears his throat. “A dress like this is traditionally worn by a woman that looks more like…” he trails off, eyes wandering as well. “Like Miss (L/N).”

A stinging chorus of hushed laughter strikes your pride. Your gut boils with shame and humiliation as your eyes bounce between the partygoers near you. You hadn’t realized they were eavesdropping. As a desperate attempt to ignore their maliciously amused looks, you follow Kyon’s gaze to Mary. Chewing on your lip, you ignore the urge to roll your eyes. This isn’t the first time someone has compared you to her, and you know very well that it won’t be the last. Even the utter disrespect of referring to you by your first name and your sister by your last name further displays their lack of recognition for you. In their eyes, you will forever remain as Miss (Y/N), the spinster-destined sister of Miss (L/N). And though you are certain that the twinge of pain and anger festering in your chest is for Kyon, you can’t help but be a little annoyed with your sister as well.

But then she laughs, smiling so bright and wide. She looks up at Michael and rests her chin on his bicep, reveling in his attention and embrace. You realize, in her moment of happiness, that you can’t find it in you to hold this grudge against her. Your love for her is greater than your pride. Besides, she plays no part in your insecurities. And, you decide as you turn back to Kyon, neither will this privileged upperclassman.

“How brave,” you sigh with a single shouldered shrug.

“What is, Miss (Y/N)?”

“How brave of you to believe anyone cares for your opinion.”

Kyon chokes on his drink. The partygoers, previously humoured by your embarrassment, relish in your courage to upstage Kyon. Gasping a giggle, you step back to avoid being spit on. He glares at you as he wipes his chin. You don’t hesitate to return that hard, hateful look in his eye. Raising a challenging brow, you dare him to attempt to embarrass you again.

He takes one step towards you, looking as though he’s about to grab at your arm when his stride is redirected. Kyon walks away without another word. You stare after him in confusion as he mutters an apology under his breath.

You’re not sure what caused this sudden change in his angry course, but you’re all too happy to be rid of him to dwell on the thought of his motives much longer. He must’ve known how offensive his words were. True, most people compare you to your sister, but at least they have the decency to do it behind your back. You rather be physically absent from a conversation like that. It makes it easier to ignore and avoid the negativity.

Confidence restored, you feel comfortable in your skin again. The dress is a perfect fit, the struggle to breath nowhere to be found, and sits well on your frame- despite what others think. However, you have very little time to revel in your victory as your mother stalks towards you.

“What have you done?” she hisses over your shoulder. Before you even have a chance to look back at her, she drags you by your arm to the edge of the room. “What did you say this time?”

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips as you clasp your hands before you and reply, “He insulted me.”

Your mother quirks a brow. “And?” She questions as if waiting for a more substantial argument.

“And?” You echo in confusion. “And he insulted me. I don’t see why that’s not enough of a reason to insult him back.”

She shakes her head and inhales deeply. You brace yourself for the disparaging rant you know is coming. Nothing good ever comes from a head shake and heavy sigh. But, instead of her usual ‘stay in your place’ harangue, your mother cuts to the chase this time. “Do you realize that might just be your only chance for happiness?”

Suppressing a dry chuckle, you lower your gaze to the floor. You know your mother is well aware of how her question sounds; you know she doesn’t care. Still, you ask, “Is that really what happiness looks like, mother?”

She falls silent. After a beat, you dare to peek up at her. Those once hard eyes soften as her gaze locks on Mary and Michael, locks on how they gaze upon one another with such adoration. Blinking repeatedly, she turns to you and sighs, “Yes, to some people that,” she pauses to glance at Kyon, “is what happiness looks like.”

A wicked pang of sad, lonely anger twists in your chest then tumbles to the pit of your stomach. Your gaze falls to the ground and heart shatters with that last shred of hope that your mother perhaps did want the best for you. Up until now, you truly believed that in some twisted way, she was just looking out for you, making sure you have someone by your side long after she’s gone. Her words now and that shameless look that matches that shameless confession only point to the painfully obvious fact you have tried so hard to ignore. Your mother’s need to make you look a certain way and throw you at any breathing man has never been for your well-being, but rather the well-being of her reputation.

“Go to Mr. Lee, (Y/N),” she orders. “Offer to freshen his drink, wipe down his shirt, and then apologize. Beg for his forgiveness if you have to; just make this right.”

With a deep breath, you trail your eyes back up and try to collect yourself. Your eyes flicker between the exit and where Kyon stands.Your mother clears her throat, drawing your attention back on her.

“Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

She returns to her friends, that gleeful smile plastered on her face once more. Your eyes fall back on Kyon with every intention of following through your mother’s orders. However, he only greets your gaze with malice. A wave of nausea overwhelms you.

With a shake of your head, you tear yourself away from his threatening demeanour and turn towards the exit. You just need to get out of his line of sight, out of that pretentious atmosphere. Something within you can’t seem to stop telling you that one more moment near that passive-aggressive punk will only make you feel worse. So, you lengthen your strides out of the ballroom and down the hall to put as much distance between you and them.

The pressure of their expectations suffocates you like no corset ever has. All you can think is how desperately you need some fresh air. It takes you a moment, but you navigate your way around the manor well enough to find the back entrance.

Cold air engulfs you the moment you step outside. A relieved giggle slips past your lips and you throw your head back to relish in the cool spring breeze. The sky reflects a swirl of silvery indigo. It lures you into its constellations and wonders with every other glance. Lowering your gaze, you scan the garden before you. A cobblestone path leads all the way down to a hedged maze. You can never resist a good garden. In fact, you had helped design the one back home. You hope that when your husband-to-be comes along, he’d have a garden too and maybe you can design it together.

Realizing you can maybe hold on to a few more moments of peace if they can’t find you, you decide to follow the path and hide away within the walls of the maze. You’re halfway down the cobblestone trail when you sense a strong pull dragging your soul closer to the hedges. Picking up your pace, you follow that tug faster, soon weaving through the maze like you’ve been through it before. It’s not long before you reach the centre.

It’s a large clearing, decorated with a variety of blooming flowers. In the middle stands a grand marble fountain. Three tiered, the fountain sprouts fresh water through the mouths of singing angels. A little smile plays on your lips as you click-clack your way towards it. The tranquil rush of the stream calms your previously erratic heart. You take a seat on the edge and stare down at the pool. It’s empty of floating flowers or little fish like the one you have at home, but still beautiful all the same.

“Miss (L/N).”

Your eyes well up the moment his sweet voice greets your ears. A shaky breath escapes you and you turn to find him. Did he not hear your words last night? Does he not care? Or is he here to stay this time?

Sitting atop the hedges of the garden maze and out of the moon’s light, he looks just as heavenly as always. Most details of his beauty are hidden, but you can make out his long hair and the way it’s pulled back into a ponytail, leaving loose, short strands to frame his face. And those soft wings are out, spread wide behind him as he stares back at you. Shirtless, he smirks.

You can’t help the smile stretching upon your lips at the sight of him. It’s an uncontrollable reflex, as is the wetness of your core when he’s around. He usually doesn’t arrive this early when he does show up. How long has he been there?

Clearing your throat, however, you subside the urge to smile upon his presence. “Mr. Jeon.” His name leaves your lips in a trembling breath as your heart’s aflush with desire. You have to remind yourself that you’re upset with his disappearances.

A sweet smile takes over his features. “I’ve upset you,” he notes.

Is this a joke to him? How many nights does he expect you to wait around for a maybe? You both know your time is worth more than that. And though you want to tell him that he’s done more than upset you, that he’s disappointed you, you confess something else instead. “I’ve missed you.”

“You know I miss you too,” he replies.

You resist the urge to scoff. “Are you working tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I just got off actually.”

Without me? You mentally scold yourself for your dirty thought. You can’t even hold onto your anger for more than thirty seconds without having the urge to spread your legs for him. “Lucky me,” you sarcastically reply.

“Do you like the dress?”

“I’d like it more with the gift from last night,” you glare at him. “If there was a gift from last night, that is.”

Hopping off the edge, his wings fan out to guide him down before you with ease. Your face falls as he stands in the moonlight. Thick mud coats his muscular body and those once white wings are stained with dirt and grim. His sharp face is scratched with little scabs as well. He looks like he fell from the sky.

“Jungkook,” you whisper as you reach out to caress his wounded cheek.

But Jungkook can’t be any less interested in his current state. His attention does not waver off you. Those kind eyes of his scan your frame, lingering around your breasts. “It looks even better than I imagined.”

You feel as though you have to ask him if this really is a joke to him this time. He leaves you for a week with very little behind and returns only to be caked in mud and peppered with wounds and has the audacity to pretend it’s not an issue. Now, you’re upset.

You blink back your tears, quietly asking, “What happened?”

Maybe it was the hurt in your tone or the worry flashing in your eyes but his usually cocky demeanor trembles just enough to comfort you. “It’s just been a long night, baby. I missed a couple of shots and it took a little more effort than usual to fix everything.”

Fidgeting fingers trail up the exposed side of his thick thigh under the stained toga-like skirt he wears. He shudders under your touch as your hands make their way up to his buff chest where they stay. You inhale deeply to settle your erratic heart. The earthy grim of the mud invades your senses. He doesn’t even smell like himself anymore.

Knitting your brows together, you ask, “Are you hurt?”

Jungkook’s entire expression softens. Shaking his head, he goes to cradle your body closer to his but stops before his hands reach your waist. You can feel his desire though, to touch and be touched. It’s raw and real, and purely Jungkook. This shared desire the two of you have roots deep within your souls. It breaks your heart to think that he’s not yours anymore, and maybe you made that decision rashly, in a moment of anger. But, you both know it’s not how you feel right now.

“I need to know your schedule,” you say in a quiet voice. He tongues his cheek, erupting your heart with a surge of want. You ignore the feeling long enough to continue, “I can’t just sit and wait, Jungkook.”

He stares down at you, eyes unreadable. You can tell that he’s mulling over your words, but have no clue how he feels about them. Finally, he cups your cheeks, staining them with dirt, and says “I need you to trust me when I say that I’m doing my best to get to you as quickly as I can, darling.”

Your heart cannot deny him when his gaze reflects such sincerity and honesty. Every ounce of trust, of belief is in him and only him. And maybe you are being selfish, but to be stranded without an explanation is heartbreaking. You know he knows that, or at least feels it in you when you think of him and pray.

“Just tell me I’m yours again,” he whispers, “and I’ll prove to you how much I’ve missed you too.”

Is that why he’s here? He’s afraid of losing you? Biting your lip, you can’t help but lean into his touch. It was mean of you to punish him like this and make him think that you were really upset with him when in actuality, all you wanted was a little more attention. You give him an innocent look through your lashes. He does his best not to swoon, but you know him well enough now to know that the little quiver in his lips means he’s on the verge of getting on his knees.

“No man of mine is this dirty,” you smirk, echoing the words of your first encounter.

Jungkook smiles and this time you have to keep yourself from swooning at the sight of his dimples. “I thought that’s exactly how you like them,” he purrs as he walks you back towards the fountain.

Heat rushes to your face. The marble edge of the fountain hits the bend of your knees but you refuse to sit down with Jungkook only inches away. His hands may still be on your face, rubbing that dirt into your cheeks, but his body is still too far away from yours. You move to take a step forward, desperate to have your body against his. However, Jungkook is quicker, most likely having read your mind, and moves back before you can even get half a step in.

Your eyes harden at the action. Pushing his hands off your face, you quirk a brow.

“I don’t want to ruin your dress.”

“A dress like this is meant to be ruined.”

He smirks. You can tell by the amusement dancing in his eyes that he’s enjoying the sight of you this needy and possessive. He decides to further test the limits of your composure, asking, “Don’t you have a party to get back to?”

He’s teasing. The mockery riddled in his features is enough of a hint, but the playful tone in his voice is still something you bask in. Taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, you let out a deep sigh and look up to the clouds. “A flight back home might do us both some good,” you suggest instead. “It’s not like there’s anything waiting for me at the party anyways.”

“Not even your sister?”

You shake your head.

“Mother?”

Face folding, you suppress the urge to groan and whisper, “Oh, gods no.”

Jungkook chuckles as he circles around the fountain. He dips his hand in the clear water, before asking, “What about Lee Kyon?”

Now, what would Jeon Jungkook know of Lee Kyon? A quick scan of his features doesn’t let you in on much besides the fact that he’s trying to draw a reaction out of you. However, what reaction is he hoping for? Is he looking for an explanation? He knows all about your mother’s habits and your relationships, or lack thereof, with mortal men. You never even have to say it; Jungkook knows there’s no one else for you but him.

“Mr. Lee is fragile,” you sigh.

His wings twitch. He likes what he hears. You curl in your lips to keep from smiling. Could he, Eros the god of love, lust and desire, really be jealous of an imbecile? Setting your visual tastes aside for a moment, you and Jungkook both know that Kyon, bless him, knows less than the very fountain you’re sitting on… The very fountain Jungkook is climbing into.

“What are you doing?” You ask, shooting to your feet as Jungkook makes himself comfortable. A giggle tumbles out of you, even though you tried to bite it back, at the sight of him washing himself like a bird.

Jungkook stops for a moment, that playful gaze meeting yours. This one look is enough for you to know he’s heard, and he’s most likely still hearing your thoughts. You wish you could dip in and out of his mind too. It might put an end to all the guessing on your end.

Continuing to splash his torso clean, he replies, “You’re sending me some mixed messages, baby. I thought you didn’t like me dirty.”

He has a point. Making your way over to him, you sit by his submerged frame on the edge of the fountain. Jungkook rubs his lips as he watches your jeweled fingers trace the curves of your cleavage. Your hand stops in the centre, just above the tied strings of your corset. You begin unlacing it when Jungkook tsks. Snapping your gaze to his, you wait for further instructions.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to get in with you.”

“So, get in.”

You move to unlace your corset once more, but Jungkook grabs onto your wrist. Catching his darkening gaze, you furrow your brows at his tilting head. He’s gesturing for you to get in, but won’t let you take off your dress. He can’t serious think you’d get in wearing it the water is filthy with his-

Glancing at the clear water, your thoughts are overtaken by confusion. You expected it to be tinted a dark brown from all the mud but it only reflects the marble bowl of the fountain, Jungkook’s legs, and that growing erection between them. You probably should question him on when he took that skirt off and why the water is so clean even after he went into it with layers of dirt coating his skin, but the heat between your legs is slowly growing more and more insufferable.

Your eyes flicker back to Jungkook’s to find him already staring at you, a smirk painted on his handsome face. He pushes his tongue against his cheek once more, knowing how much you love that move, then quirks a cocky brow. Kicking off your heels, you lift your dress enough to dip each stocking covered foot into the fountain. You hiss at the sensation of the soggy socks against your feet, but power through knowing how much Jungkook loves the way they look on you.

Your dress puffs up to the surface and you have to push it down and back to put as little space between you and Jungkook. “Your hair’s filthy,” you pout as you finally straddle his lap.

Jungkook lets out a little sigh. You first think it’s because his cock stands right in front of your pussy, but soon realize how wrong you are. His dazed gaze wanders over your features, unsure where to stop and what to admire first. Those large hands instinctively find your thick thighs. He rubs and massages them as you untie his hair and wet your hands enough to wash some of the dirt away. You tilt his head back and lick your lips. It’s a habit you have when concentrating. Jungkook knows it well.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he suddenly purrs. His voice is thick, saturated with lust and adoration. “Honestly, you don’t have to do anything, darling, just let me look at you for a little bit.”

You freeze, hands half tangled in his mud slick hair, and gaze back down at him. Dipping your head down, your lips catch his. You’re obsessed with the lack of hesitation between the two of you. Never has Jungkook thought twice about taking you as his when the two of you are this close. No matter how long he’s gone or how upset you may feel about that, when you find each other again, it’s almost like he never left. Your souls rapture in harmony and bodies tangle indefinitely. Eternity lies in the palms of your hands every second you're together.

“I’ve got to clean your hair,” you mutter against his lips. He only hums before kissing you again. Inhaling sharply, you let him have another sip of your breath before pulling away completely. And you realize, as you glance at his wings, that they could probably use a good scrub down too before the two of you indulge in the good fun you’ve been dying to have all week.

Before you can vocalize this, however, Jungkook is already readjusting your shared position. He tucks his wings tight behind him and shifts the two of you around so that the stream of the fountain washes down his back. “Hurry,” he orders. There’s very little room for negotiation in his tone. His appetite for a fun night is growing too and you can’t help but smile at the eagerness you’ve triggered.

Sticking your tongue out, you hook it under his chin and tilt his head back. Jungkook continues to gaze down at you as he gives into your gesture. “That’s hot,” he mutters.

This is new. He never talks this much when things start to heat up. Most of the time, you’re tossed looks and expected to decipher his mood, but you’re all too caught up in how gorgeous he is, you can barely understand what he means. Everything is always based on feelings and going with your instincts. But this time, Jungkook’s more vocal. It’s almost as if he’s thinking out loud.

His wings twitch again. You snap your gaze from his hair to his eyes and find he’s raising a brow. Didn’t you wish you could hear his thoughts too? Could this be his way of granting it to you?

“You know what I like most about you?” He asks as you continue to wash the mud from his hair. Grazing your nails through his scalp, you hum in reply. “You’re incredibly intelligent.”

Your fingers shudder against his head. The guilt of last night returns. Your sister should be with someone who isn’t afraid of her intelligence either. You should’ve told her not to follow through with this, not to marry Michael.

Jungkook’s hands trail up to your ass, gripping onto the plump flesh. The harsh gesture snaps you back into the moment. You jump a bit and let out a little squeal as your gaze meets his. “I much rather you don’t think of other men when you’re with me,” he groans.

Fighting off the proud smile tempting your lips, you nod. “Sorry; it won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” he mutters and that smile finally settles on your lips. “And don’t worry about your sister. She’ll be fine.”

A part of you wants to question him more about how he knows that, but the death grip he has on your ass and the way he’s looking at you does not leave much room for a sexless conversation. You rather your family stay out of conversations like this with Jungkook. His desire to be the only one in your thoughts makes a bit more sense to you now.

Smiling, Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose. “You figure things out faster than most people,” he says.

You kiss the little freckle under his lip to let him know you’re done cleaning his hair. “You spend too much time in my head,” you tease. Instead of in my… The rest of the sentence twirls in your mind for him to find it.

As you move to clean his right wing he chuckles and continues, “I’m serious, baby.” He kisses your neck as you stand on your knees and reach for his wing to properly clean it off. “Your mind amazes me. That’s why I spend so much time there.”

Barriers of the mind fall. They were trembling before but now, with every whispered thought Jungkook voices, you can feel those walls of distance crumble around your inseparable bodies. You’ve always melded perfectly physically and stroked the other’s spirit by caressing your souls, but mental barriers have always halted any real conversation between you and Jungkook. He’s always been able to know your next move, your every thought because of his immortality. And to have the chance to do the same only makes you feel that much closer to him. For this reason, you hope he doesn’t regret opening up to you and giving you a little peek inside his mind.

Your physical senses shock you back to the moment. His fingers soften their grip on your ass, rubbing it instead and your pussy reactively clenches at that pet name you love so much. Unsteadily inhaling deeply, you move to clean his other wing in silence. You decide you won’t talk this time. Your mind is open to him if he’s looking for your opinion, but tonight you just want to hear his thoughts and be the one tossing unreadable looks.

Jungkook chuckles against your neck, rolling his shoulders back as you brush your fingers through his wings. His lips trail down to your collarbone. He kisses his way down to your breasts and buries his face between them. Breathing in your scent, he sighs happily and mutters, “This is my favourite thing.”

Your breasts? By the way his hands always settle on your ass and the fact that his first hand-delivered toy was an anal plug, you always just assumed that his favourite feature of yours must be your ass. But you suppose if your breasts-

“Actually, I was talking about the way you smell.”

“It’s called soap,” you tease, earning yourself a light spank. He then bites on your right tit, sucking on the skin just because he can. You giggle and settle yourself back on his lap. Your ass, plush and plump, all but melts over his muscular thighs.

Jungkook stares at you. His brown eyes are vacant and lost in thought. He quiets under your gaze, only just shifting to pull you closer than you already are. Your pussy frames the length of his cock and you find it increasingly hard to stay still. Trying to read that dazed expression on his face, you wonder what happened with his devotion to thinking out loud.

Licking his lips, Jungkook finally breaks the silence. “Twenty-three.” He leans towards you turning the two of you back around so his back is against the fountain’s edge again. “I want you in twenty-three different ways, but I don’t think we have time to do all of them.”

You swallow thickly. Grinding your hips into his, you rub your needy pussy against his throbbing erection. Jungkook’s eyes slightly roll back and he has to hold your hips down only to look at you properly again. “Can we make time?” You ask. The desperate cry for more is evident in your voice and you know that, by the quirk of his brow and the shudder of his wings, he’s having trouble saying no.

“I wish,” he confesses. “My favourite ones take time.”

His fingers dig into your ass again, hinting at what his favourite positions might be. It’s no surprise that it has to do with your ass, you’re just worried that he’s going to ask for more than you’re ready for. Yes, you may have gotten used to anal plugs over time since he knows how to prep you for them, but his cock is an entirely different game. You are constantly reminded of how those other toys really are just toys because his cock is that uncomparable.

Jungkook relaxes back against the marble wall and watches you as you salivate over the size of his cock. He doesn’t need to read your mind to know you're terrified of whatever pain may come with it but excited because you’re just that much of a whore for him.

“You know you don’t have to do it. I have lots of other favourites,” he smirks.

As your thoughts trail off, he bucks his hips into yours. You breathe moan and clutch onto his shoulders. Every little movement makes you ache for more. A week without a single bit of sexual stimulation, even by yourself, is too long. He never told you that you couldn’t play around alone anymore, but when you have him, why the hell would you play with yourself? You know he’s going to come every night, or at least you hope he is. And the truth is, one he must already know judging by the pleased look in his eyes, even if he had told you he wasn’t coming, you still wouldn’t have touched yourself. Nothing can compare to his touch; you don’t need to try anything else to know this.

A shaky breath escapes Jungkook at your next mental confession. You don't think you were ever really mad at him. You just knew that acting out would get him to come tonight. Jungkook scoffs, looking up at the darkening sky as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Are you even really sorry? His eyes dart to yours as if wanting to see for himself if your thoughts are true. You don't know if you can answer this question with his eyes on you like that. But, that conclusion seems to be enough of an answer for him.

He shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist. Pouting, he asks, “Do you know how worried I was?”

You mirror his expression, drawing a pout in your features as well, and press your chest against his. His breath hitches and body melts into yours, betraying his intentions. Noticing his struggle to stay upset with you, you pepper wet kisses under his chin and along his jawline.

Jungkook can’t resist you for much longer. He whimpers as his hips grind into yours. Bending at your every touch, he unravels beneath you. A giddy smile breaks your pouty features and it’s only then that he seems to realize how much he’s let himself go in front of you. His grip on your hips hardens. As you kiss up his face, you find his lust-stuck eyes dark with dominance. He hates being vulnerable to your touch this much.

“No, baby,” he rasps. You quirk a brow. “I hate how drunk you get off the power.”

A proud smirk twitches on the corner of your lips, confirming his words. You’ve barely had taste for the power he’s accusing you of getting drunk off of. However, the fact that you’re able to control him so well with such a small dose fills your heart with pride.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“I am?”

There’s a certain cocky pitch in your tone that rings sharply to his ears. His brows twitch, wings flutter, and gaze wavers. He may have been able to look past your exaggerations of dismissal and the way you tease him, but to speak to him with very little regard for his power unleashes something primal within him. You can always tell you’ve really pissed him off when he pouts, clenches his jaw, and breathes so steadily, you can barely hear him.

Jungkook watches you carefully. “One week without my dick and suddenly you think you own it?”

“Don’t I?”

A sharp smack lands on your ass. The slow draft of the water does not slow his hands down. In fact, it only increases the sting and accuracy. You gasp and fall forward against him only to be spanked again. Another moan leaves you, this time with your lips hovering over his. Exchanging breathes, a dangerous thought occurs to you. Your lips are over his. What’s to stop you from spit-

He growls. You tremble against him. The purely thunderous rumble in his chest rattles your soul. “I fucking dare you,” he hisses.

Though you want to heed his warning, you can’t help but notice how he keeps his mouth open despite his disapproval. You gather what you have in your mouth and pause for a moment, knowing that he knows what you’re about to do. His mouth remains open. You drop the wad of spit it without a second thought.

Jungkook swallows it almost immediately. “You’re going to regret that,” he breathes.

“I highly doubt that,” you smirk.

The cocky persona you seemed to have picked up from him crumbles when his middle finger pushes between your cheeks and circles your tightest hole. His words about his favourite ways to fuck you return to you in distant echoes. You arch your back and push your ass into his hand. His finger threatens to slip in.

“You’re barely ready,” he scoffs.

Do you harbour reservations based on fears that he just might be too big to fit in your ass? Of course you do; he’s huge. A fact of which he can’t help but always smirk at when you point it out. But, you’re hungry for him and you know that he would never do anything to hurt you. Letting out a shaky breath, you affirm, “I can take it.”

“You aren’t wet enough.”

“Then, change that.”

The continuous authority that drips in your tone has tested his patience for the last time. Reaching a hand out of the fountain, Jungkook grabs for something on the ground. You try to lean over him and sneak a peek at what he’s looking for, but the friction of your clit against his length has you shuddering back in place.

A little smile breaks Jungkook’s previously callous expression. He pecks your neck and laughs quietly against your skin as he mutters, “You’re adorable.”

Heat rushes down to your core instead of your face at the little praise. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips when you catch a glimpse of something gold in your peripherals. Glancing up, you find him clutching onto his bow. Before you have the chance to ask what he’s planning, Jungkook only just drops the tip of his bow in to break the surface of the water. A misty rose gold tints the clarity. Little flicks of sparkling gold twinkle back at you as you watch the fountain filter the essence all around you.

You cautiously meet gaze. He always confirms new things with you before acting on anything, no matter how mad or horny he is. His rash decision to spike the fountain with an unknown substance chills your blood for a second. You start to shift back from him a bit when he breaks the silence.

“It’s just a lubricant,” he quickly explains. A relieved breath, you didn’t realize you were holding, leaves you. Shifting back against him, you nudge your nose against his. “Sex is a bit different underwater, baby, and I don’t have time to get you as ready as you need to be.”

A gentle nibble on his lip is all it takes for the rush of the fountain to be the only sound in the silence that settles upon you. His hands guide your hips against his, the fiction much smoother now with that hint of lubrication swirling around. You run a hand through his hand and tug his head back to be greeted with the sweet rumble of his laughter. You can’t help but giggle with him as you place soft kisses along the side of his neck.

Jungkook quietly moans in little whines and breathless gasps. Every shudder of his wings and furrow of his brows makes you want to rip your dress off and be just as naked and against him. But, then again, there’s something powerful to the taste of being fully clothed and still destroying a man’s composure. You barely have to do anything and Jungkook bends to your every will. You can now understand why he believes you’re so drunk on power, but the truth is you always had this power. He knows this, most likely wanting you to realize it too if he’s the one that suggested you stay clothed. The only difference now is that he’s openly displaying the ways you unravel him rather than keeping it to himself.

“Do you see what I mean now?” He asks in a breathless whisper. You trail your kiss up to his cheek and moan against it as he continues, “You’re so smart and beautiful and precious.”

Jungkook pauses, stilling your hips and pulling his face away from yours to look into your eyes. He parts his lips to speak but his words keep falling short somehow.

His words so far have already ignited an untamable fire not only between your legs, but within your bones as well. He is drenched in every part of you. Shifting to a softer touch, you untangle your fingers from his damp hair and cup his cheeks the same way he had done to you not too long ago. “Go on,�� you tease, tossing him a playful look.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk. His eyes, though hinted with amusement, continue to be lost in some sort of trance. He knows you’re curious, but keeps this little bit of thought to himself. Lifting your hips, he hovers your entrance over his erection and finally smirks.

“Beg a little,” he orders. Though his voice barely carries to the other side of the fountain, the authority in his tone is still as clear and hard as it always is.

Your power trip must have really messed with him if he’s having you beg without giving you a good reason to. An annoyed sigh fans against your collarbone as your body continues to hover over his. “Don’t play,” he rasps, “You know that’s not it. I can hear the truth before the lie, darling.”

That’s an unfair advantage but one you don’t mind too much if it means he talks to you like this all the time. He’s right too. You know that’s not what’s got him eager to hear you beg. It’s the way you beg that’s got him eager to fuck you. Clenching around emptiness, needy to be filled and ruined, you whine a tiny “please,” then a string of profanities as his tip strokes its way to your entrance from your clit.

“Again.”

Back arched, breasts against his bare chest, and hands clutched onto his biceps, you place your lips on the shell of his ear and blow a gentle breeze against it. “Please,” you mewl.

Jungkook’s hands tremble and he all but drops you on his cock. Pussy in an instant stretch, with very little room to adjust, you cry out in his ear. Though your voice may be broken and pitchy, Jungkook doesn’t flinch. When it comes to you, the usual results never qualify. You are one of a kind, as unique as him.

His muscles flex under your palms. Hands finding their place on your ass again, Jungkook guides your thrusts. He can practically feel your weakening body with every bounce and grind against him. You know he can. He shows it in every tightening grip on your ass and grunt in his moans.

The knot in your stomach is already twisting, conspiring against your better judgement on how long you think you can last. You’ve never been able to outlast him, cumming twice before he finally reaches his first orgasm of the night. He’s just so big and hits those right places way before the rest of him can catch up. How he manages to brush up against your softest spots within the first three thrusts will always be beyond your comprehension. He’s just that good.

The choked moan that leaves him resembles a chuckle. A frustrated whine escapes you. Is he still listening to your thoughts? It’s not like you’re thinking anything he already hasn’t heard you say, or rather scream, but it still somewhat embrassasses you to know that he will always hear how whipped you are for him.

“Tell me,” you plead with your lips pressed just under his ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

The sparkling water around you begins to splash out of the fountain bowl as Jungkook speeds up the pace of your bounces. Deciding your ass seems to be too much of a distraction to him, you pause mid-thrust and move his hands up to your hips. A shuddering gasp escapes him as you carry on with the bounces at his same pace. Your ass claps in and out of the water, thrashing water all around the ground.

Jungkook digs his short nails into the flesh of your hips, growling every time you whine at his tightening grip. Forehead against his, you catch his gaze and offer an innocent one. “I’m-” he cuts himself off, realizing how breathless and dazed he sounds. You nuzzle your face into his as a silent attempt to encourage him to continue. “Kiss me,” he begs.

If you weren’t stuffed full of his cock and extremely enchanted by the way he pretends to sound composed, you would’ve refused to kiss him and insisted that he finish that sentence. And that knot in the pit of your gut only tightens with the grip of your pussy. Pressing your lips against his, you slip your tongue in and let him swallow your moans.

The moment his tongue tackles yours, your legs quake. Thrusts hesitating, your body begins to spasm against his. Your hands grapple at his shoulder just to ensure you stay a float as your threatening orgasm continues to build.

“Jungk-” You break the kiss to tell him, to ask as he has taught you over and over again.

But Jungkook only latches his lips onto yours once more. You gulp down a moan or two of his before he hisses against your lips, “Just fucking cum. Now, kiss me.”

You may have been drunk off power not too long ago, but as you kiss him again, you realize that he is drunk off you. And that’s all it takes for your ograsm to finally rush over you. Jungkook lifts his hips up to meet your stuttering ones. Your lips fall off his. Face buried in the crook of his neck, you cry out his name and cream all over his cock.

“I’m thinking you’re such a good girl for cumming like this,” he suddenly whispers as you ride out your orgasm. Even with your ears ringing and mind shuddering from the second wave of cum gushing all over his hard, huge cock, you can still hear every dirty praise clearly. “My whore got herself off so well.”

The whine that escapes you from his words alone is borderline pornographic. Jungkook even feels it, arching his back so his chest collides with yours as well. “You’re so sexy,” he whimpers as you babble fountain water by his shoulder from exhaustion.

Wet, wet, wet; everything is wet. You’re both drenched in lube tinted waters, cum, and your desires. You can’t revel in it though, as the skirts of your dress float the surface and corset clings to your chest all too tightly. You can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone tell him that you need a quick break.

“No,” he groans, settling you on his thighs. Circling his hips into yours, Jungkook grips onto the nape of your neck to peel you off him.

Your heart stumbles as your mind races to figure out what you’ve done that was so wrong, he’s wanting to stop the night here. “I’m sorr-”

“You don’t need a break,” he sighs between moans. He sits himself up, his wings extending only to drape over the lip of the fountain’s bowl. All movements underwater cease as he digs his fingers into the bust of your corset. In one swift motion, Jungkook tears the first few laces apart, instantly sending a full batch of oxygen to your lungs.

Gasping, you gaze down at your torn dress before glaring at him. Maybe with just a wet dress, you could have explained your way out of whatever mess this is going to get you in when you attempt to return to the party. However, a torn dress will not be that easy to explain. You want to glare at him and tell him off but he shoves his face between your now exposed breasts and moans before you’re able to.

He moves your hands up his shoulders so your arms drape over them, then settles them on his favourite place; your ass. Two of his fingers push between your cheeks and stroke your hole. His touch there is much smoother than before and you suspect that it must be the bow-tipped lube.

You moan quietly, resting your chin atop his damp head as he kisses and bites at your breasts. Your pussy still hasn’t recovered from your orgasm seconds ago. In fact, truth be told, your entire body is having trouble recuperating after cumming that hard in a week. But you want more of him and he still hasn’t filled you of his godly load yet. And with his fingers circling around your asshole, you can’t deny him the second ride he’s patiently waiting for.

A slow grind of hips into hips is a good start, you tell yourself. You’ve never really had to deal with this before, since Jungkook would usually just keep pounding into you despite the fact that he knows your limbs are exhausted from one orgasm already. Clenching your jaw, you start to bounce again, ass clapping against his thighs in suppressed thumps underwater. The overstimulated pleasure brings tears to your eyes. You cry out his name and hold onto his wings.

He groans against your right breast from the contact. You’re about to apologize, knowing his wings are sensitive, when he shoves his fingers into your tightest hole. You freeze and throw your head back from how easily he slipped in and how fucking good it feels. Jungkook scissors his fingers within you, peeking a glance up from between your breasts.

“Are you okay, baby?” he slurs. He licks up the valley of your breasts, holding your gaze shamelessly.

“Mhm,” you mewl.

Resuming your thrusts, you feel your tears run down your face freely. You don’t even have it in you to wipe them away. Your hands, instead, centre around his back. You scratch at it for a bit until you feel him add a finger. Moans tumble into his wet hair as your fingers trail up the length of his spine.

Jungkook stiffens. A choked groan tears from his throat and he hides his face further into your breasts. They bounce around his cheeks with each hop on his cock. Too consumed by your own overstimulated pleasure to dwell much thought on his movements, or lack thereof, you mindlessly repeat the action. You stroke his spine once more and then you hear it.

He sobs a moan.

You still your hips, looking down at him. As you run a hand through his hair, you’re about to ask if he’s okay when the whooshing flutter of wings obscures your vision. One second, you’re straddling his lap with his fingers in your ass. The next, you’re the one submerged in the water with him hovering over you. Wings fully extended, face stained with tears, Jungkook makes sure your arms are resting over his shoulders like before then takes up a deadly speed of thrusts into you.

His speed defies the laws of physics, hips moving much faster than they should underwater. Half the fountain is on the ground from the force of his movement. All you can do is sob with him as your body becomes his only source of pleasure.

What’s gotten into him? He doesn’t even have an interest in your ass anymore, hands locked in a death-like grip on your hips. In a moment of pure animalistic pleasure, you just wish you knew what’s running through his head.

“You,” he growls in a pout. “You’re all I think about, you fucking whore. You’re all I can ever think about.” He swallows thickly before continuing, “You can’t go one second without thinking of me and now all I can hear is your voice. All the time; it’s you, you, you.”

You don’t know if you should apologize or cum from the simple confession alone. His voice, his words, his entire fucking attitude has you aching to cum all over again.

Jungkook stumbles over his chuckles. “You just love seeing me like this, huh? You love seeing me worship you, baby?”

Worship. Does he want you to cum that badly that he’s willing to lie? You both know he doesn’t worshi-

A sharp thrust derails your thoughts. Your eyes roll back as you moan out his name.

“You’re my goddess,” he confesses. “You’re my only goddess.”

He repeats the phrase over and over again until that’s all that rings in your ear, in your heart, in your soul. His release paints your tightening walls. The knots within your gut have unraveled long ago and it’s only when your blurred vision somewhat clears and convulsing body trickles into tremors do you realize that you’ve both cum together to the words he’s still repeating.

Voice a tiny, gruff whisper, Jungkook whispers, “My goddess.”

He’s serious. He must be. He truly worships you. The tears in his eyes, the break in his voice, the truth is clear and just as starkly bare as he is between your legs. His eyes suddenly flash with worry, almost as if he’s recognized what he’s said. He meant what he said, you realize, but he never meant to say it.

Jungkook gingerly pulls out of you as you try to seat yourself up. You pull your legs into your chest and watch him take a seat beside you. He leans his head back against the rim of the fountain and gazes up at the sky. You follow his gaze, noticing it’s gotten much darker out, the silver stream of stars piercing an indigo backdrop no more. A midnight black cloaks the world above you, a crescent moon lighting up your night and an array of stars twinkling down at you. Though your mind is still foggy from your recent orgasms, body still shuddering, you can’t help but think about his words. What makes him think you belong up there, amongst true gods and goddesses?

His wings twitch as they tuck themselves behind him. You know that combination well. He’s hiding something. Usually, you don’t ask, knowing he will only deflect the topic and shower you with attention and praises instead. But, his spoken thoughts are now looping around your mind, begging to be answered.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, shifting closer to him. Face still stained with tears, he forces himself to look at you. The questions are on the tip of your tongue; what, why, when? However, as you part your lips all you can bring yourself to say is, “I didn’t hear anything.”

You’re my goddess.

The words return with ten times the force they previously held. It’s almost like denying their existence is just as blasphemous as saying them. You swallow thickly and try to extract the words from your mind, but it's too late. They are as entrenched in your bones as your affection for him is. There is no undoing what has been done.

You bring a hand up to his face and wipe away the stray tears. He melts into you almost immediately. Maybe it’s best if you return to the party now. You can make up some excuse as to why you’re drenched and torn on your way there. Jungkook’s state is all but worrying and you feel as though you shouldn’t be witnessing this.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he finally says. His voice has regained composure and tone controlled. No more does he choke on his words or laughter. The authority he indirectly bestowed upon you has been returned to him.

You should tell him you’re done, that he shouldn’t say things he doesn’t mean to. You should tell him that he shouldn’t play with your feelings or your heart like this. But, again, the words wither away the moment you part your lips to voice them. And, instead, you ask, “How do you want me?”

Jungkook smirks. His hands snake around your hips and lift you up onto his lap. Back to his chest, you make yourself comfortable, leaning into him. He pushes the excess fabric of your dress aside just to get you as close as possible. Then, you feel it against your ass, pushing its way between your cheeks. His erection is just as hard as when you started. It’s no wonder why he’s not done with you yet. You suppose he didn’t just confess something he can’t take back only to still leave with a full hard-on.

“I thought you didn’t hear anything,” he whispers in your ear as his hands cup the underside of your thighs.

You nervously look at him over your shoulder. “I didn’t.”

He chews on your earlobe, warm tongue caressing your jaw. “I should stop thinking about it,” he whimpers against your skin. “I should stop thinking about you.”

I’m not a goddess, you want to tell him. But, by the way he sucks in a sharp breath, you can tell he’s heard and isn’t impressed. He opens his mouth to say something, maybe to scold you for degrading yourself, or to correct you. The words never arrive.

Jungkook shakily exhales. No more trips into his thoughts it would seem. He remains silent as he spreads your legs and swiftly lifts you up. You expect another harsh round into your pussy but his tip shoves its way through your asshole instead. Throwing your head back, you try to suppress your scream by holding your breath.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does during the first initial thrust of a toy. Whatever he tinted the water with must be the result of a smooth entrance, and a deliciously blissful stretch. You let out a breath you held, along with a loud, high-pitched squeal. Jungkook folds you up well, holding the bend of each knee into your chest as he continues to slowly lower you onto him.

Once you finally take him all in, you settle your entire body back into him. Shuddering breaths, drifting eyes, you hold him deep within you and try not to completely lose yourself in a fit of moans and pleads. You don’t even know what you’d be begging for, just that a string of “pleases” will leave you.

Are you getting bigger, you mentally ask.

He chuckles and shakes his head as his nose nuzzles into your cheeks. He can’t get enough. Inhaling you deeply, you realize that he can’t get enough of you. He even said so in so many words. And you don’t have much of a problem with that considering you can’t ever get enough of him either. You’ve consumed all of his thoughts it would seem and he’s even lost himself to you so much so that he’s declared you his one and only god-

“Fuck!”

The stream of the fountain rushes down on your clit. He holds you straight beneath it as his hips move up and down against your ass. You’re at his total mercy, every thought of ever being in control a complete joke. You rest your head against his shoulders, trembling hands placed over his as a desperate attempt to control yourself.

Your first water wave induced orgasm hits you within seconds. You don’t know for sure, but you’re all but certain that you’re cumming. Your eyes have been screwed shut for a while, and body shaking since this endeavor in the fountain began. Only when you try to close your legs do you confirm that you indeed came.

Jungkook keeps them open though. He ignores your pathetic scratches on his knuckles as you try to explain to him that it’s all just too fucking much for you to take. “Just let me cum,” he tries to soothe between little hushes and murmurs about how good you’re taking his cock.

But then your second orgasm from the fountain hits and you can’t stop squirming in his hold. He keeps you folded and under the water’s subjection nonetheless, somehow even cooling the temperature down. As you shiver under the cold rush, Jungkook positions you higher against him so that the water pours into you instead. You realize, pussy clean of his cum now, that you’re getting fucked by a fountain; a fountain that he controls. And you fucking love it.

Then, there’s the fullness of your ass. Every inch of you is his. If you’re his goddess, he must know that he’s your god. Your one and only.

“Careful,” he warns against your thoughts.

You have an assful of his cock in you, getting off more times than you can both count in a fountain that does not belong to either of you; when have the two of you ever been careful? In fact, your recklessness is what brought you together. Had he not seen you on your balcony every night, he might not be here at all. Carelessness runs in your veins, laced in your tone as you cry out, “You’re my god!”

The clouds rumble above you. The heavens can warn all they want. Interrupting sexual endeavors would do them more harm than it would do you.

“If you want to cum, you’ll behave,” Jungkook hisses. His thrusts suddenly snap into something primal.

Your body bounces every time, water rushing down your clit once more. This time you feel your orgasm build, and fast. Toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, you hold onto every twisting, clenching knot at the pit of your stomach.

“Ask!”

“Please?”

A particular ram into your ass lets you know that half-hearted plea won’t get you very far. He doesn’t deign to repeat himself. Instead, he lets his harsh movements and bone-rattling growls speak for him.

“Please let me cum, Jungkook, please.”

“Again.”

“Please, please, please, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t say it. But you feel it. You feel the approval in the form of a gentle kiss against your ear. Hips a craze, rolling against the wave, you clench your jaw and try to channel all your pleasure in a high-pitched moan rather than the cry your lungs are desperate to let out. Your cum gushes then, juices squirt seconds later. Entire body on fire, under the scrutiny of the stream as you try and fail to recollect yourself. You’re shattered, ruined, obliterated by his cock and this fountain of fantasies.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “That’s my good girl.”

His. His. Gods, the things you would do to be his always, not just under the cover of the night. Jungkook releases your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he grounds your ass over his hips. Load after load shoots within you, making your giggle and shake with ecstasy at the filling sensation of being stuffed so well.

“Ah-yah, baby,” he groans in a scowl against your jawline. “You’ve got the tightest little hole for me, hmm? If you weren’t so exhausted, I’d have us do this all over again.”

Exhaustion. Yes, that’s what you’re feeling. With your mind foggy and broken from the countless orgasms he’s sent through you, you can barely find it in you to breathe, let alone think to go for another round. Your body’s only excuse for staying afloat is the winged god behind you. He clutches onto you as if his only reason for surviving is you. And judging by his previous confession, that very well might be the case.

Jungkook rests back against the fountain’s edge once he’s done. Gasping for air, he continues to hold onto you, kissing your shoulder mindlessly. “I never really know how much I miss you until I have you,” he whispers. His teeth graze your supple skin.

Body limp, you can’t find it in you to reply. All you can think is after he pulls out, he’s going to fly back to Gods know where and leave you to hobble back to the party alone. After all, isn’t that how every night ends? You two share a passionate few moments, both have out of body experiences when orgasming, then you fall asleep and he sneaks away. What’s to say this night won’t be any different?

“I thought I told you to trust me?”

“I do.”

He scoffs. You don’t blame him. Your words are hardly convincing. It has nothing to do with the fact that you just came five or six different times. It’s the lack of commitment in your tone that tips him off. You hear it too. You really do trust him. He’s just let you down too many times to count.

“What more do I need to do? I’m with you every chance I get.”

Exhaustion. It’s not a physical one, not the one you’re still recovering from. It’s one of the mind. He’s exhausted with this back and forth. You are too. This isn’t exactly what you thought your first relationship would look like.

He pauses, body freezing beneath you.

Oh, right. He’s in your mind. He heard that. Is that not what this is, though? Isn’t this a relationship?

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it,” You repeat, looking at him over your shoulder.

Jungkook starts to soften in you. You’ve really set him off now. He lifts you up and off his cock, sitting you on his thigh and ignoring the way you hiss and whine at the discomfort. You turn to glare at him over your shoulder only to find him already glaring at you.

“Do you want me to come back?”

Is he threatening you? “Do I have to remind you who came here begging-”

“You lied!” He cuts you off with a shout.

“You knew that, though. You knew I was lying,” you point out, a pout starting to overtake your features. “You came because you missed me.”

“That’s never been a secret.”

“Say it then, Jungkook. Say this is a relationship.”

He falls silent. His once annoyed eyes can’t even meet yours.

“I know you’re jealous of Lee Ky-”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffs. Shaking his head, he forces himself to meet your gaze.

Sad tears vary drastically from blissful ones. Tears of bliss soothe the pleasure and make it bearable. Tears of sadness sting your eyes, pierce your heart and shed any part of you that can make such a situation bearable. Sad tears only remind you of your pain.

Your eyes sting with despair as he regards you with such frustration. Emptying your mind, discarding all thoughts, you ask, “Are you coming tomorrow?”

Jungkook sighs, but not a beat of hesitance affects his answer. “Of course.”

You raise a brow. See?

“Fine. This is a relationship,” he mutters. “What does that change?”

Nothing. It hasn’t changed a thing. You don’t even feel any different, any better. Maybe it’s because you forced it out of him? You don’t know. The tears only fall faster though, and you can’t bear to look at him. Your heart’s conflicted, shattered and replaced all at once because, though he is the cause of your tears, his presence is also the only thing soothing them. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your temple over his.

You can at least relish in his company for a few moments longer. And his scent, that intoxicating waft of creamy coconut and sweet peony orchards returns now that all that mud and grime has been washed off. The scent is comforting enough for you to relax in his arms and forget your pain for a second.

“That’s not what I smell like,” he whispers. You tilt your head away to get a better look at him. A little smirk tugs on the corner of his lip as he says, “It’s what you smell like.”

Impossible. He’s always smelled like at the end of every night. You’d cuddle into his chest and inhale a breathful of the tropical scent. How could that be what you smell like if he reeks of it? The knowing look in his eyes is enough of a hint for you to realize you know the answer. He’s dripping with your essence every night because he spent the night in you. You wonder if you smell like him too.

He sighs, circling his arms lazily around your waist. He deeply inhales your skin, smiling against it, but doesn’t answer your mentally posed question. Damp hair clinging to the sides of your faces, you settle in the other’s company. One of his hands rises from the water and wipes away your tears. As you sniffle, he whispers, “I promise I’m-”

“Doing the best you can,” you croak, finishing his sentence with him.

Yes, yes. You’ve heard it all before. You don’t think he’s lying, your Eros is no liar. You do believe that he is, in fact, doing the best he can. But if his best is only a few hours every night, you’re not sure you can accept that. And, yet, you also can’t find it in you to truly, with all your heart, reject it as well.

He needs to prove his devotion to you in another way. A risky thought then tiptoes into your mind. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you take a deep breath and ask, “Could you do me a tiny favour?”

Jungkook’s hesitant to meet your gaze. He glances at you through his peripherals, otherwise keeping his gaze locked on your breasts. Whether he’s trying to distract himself or not, you still push them out a bit in hopes that they will grant you the “yes” you’re hoping to hear.

He nods.

With a little kiss upon his cheek, you stroke his shoulder with the soft tips of your fingers and ask, “Would you please escort me to my sister’s wedding?”

He turns his head away from you. Staring across at the other side of the garden, Jungkook withdraws from you. His hands fall off your frame as he heavily sighs. You press yourself against him, trying to regain his attention but he only shakes his head.

“Acting cute won’t make this any easier,” he grumbles.

You huff and slouch against him. “How about just the rehearsal dinner?” You try to negotiate. When he rolls his eyes, you quickly add, “I’ll be stuck with Kyon and honestly I don’t think I handle another minute of his incorrect reilieration about history.”

Jungkook snaps his head towards you at the mention of another man. You cock a brow to which he only scoffs at. “You’re being obnoxious,” he seethes. “And unbelievably selfish.��

“So?” you question before you can stop yourself. His words sting, slicing through your confidence all too easily. There isn’t much room for thinking and even if there was, he would be listening to them anyways. So, you might as well say what you want out loud. “Was it not selfish of you to make me wait-”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m not going to repeat myself, (Y/N). You can’t keep telling me that you trust me only to keep bringing this up. I was busy. You had to wait. It didn’t kill you.”

Your tears have returned. He rolls his eyes at the sight. Whatever remnants of your heart you thought you had has been obliviated. “You make me feel so loved,” you whisper as your hands retract from his body.

Jungkook’s expression disarms all hostility. His eyes reflect regret but you’ve heard, seen all you need to.

“But why do you only make me feel this way when we’re naked?”

“You’re not naked,” he’s quick to reply.

It’s your turn to scoff. How can a god be this dense? “Aren’t I, though? Tell me, Jeon Jungkook, whose thoughts are open for the other to hear? Who is the one waiting, praying for the other’s attention? Who has been bare since first glance on the stupid balcony you left last night?”

Before he couldn’t meet your eye out of disinterest, but now he avoids your gaze out of guilt. Yes, you’ve been obnoxious, selfish, maybe even a little entitled. However, you’ve had a god to yourself for months. You’ve had endless moments of ecstasy that only end in soft cuddles and whispered sweet nothings into the night. Is wanting that attention when the sun hasn’t set yet too much to ask?

Jungkook parts his lips to reply when his eyes suddenly shoot up. He sits up, almost knocking you off his lap and snaps his head towards the very pathway you came from.

“(Y/N)!”

You gasp upon hearing your mother’s voice. The clicks of her heels draw further towards you and before you can look at Jungkook and ask what you should do, what you should say, you’re thrown into the fountain.

Ice cold waves engulf you as you inhale a good chunk of the fountain. Your lungs burn from the accidental intake of water. You only just get your hands under you and sit yourself up and out of the water as quickly as you can. Familiar shouts ring in the distance. Coughing up the fountain, you push your hair back and look around the garden.

Your mother is staring at you in utter shock, screaming at you to come out but refusing to help you herself. As you try to lift yourself up, you find the water has returned to its usual clarity and that Jungkook is nowhere to be found. He seriously left you to almost drown in the fountain by yourself? He’d be lucky to get more than a kiss from your tomorrow night. You can’t believe he has the audacity to yell at you then let you there like that. In a fit of anger, you send a lashing string after lashing string of profanities to him in the form of a prayer.

“Miss (L/N)!”

Your blood chills. Hands on the lip of the fountain, you turn towards his voice. Fully dressed in a dark blue suit, his wings nowhere to be found, and dry hair pulled back a neat ponytail, Jungkook rushes over to you. His strong hands settle on your waist before he effortlessly scoops you out.

All you can do is stare. Mouth agape, eyes vacant, you try to figure out why the hell he made himself all presentable and left you looking like a mess. You want to whisper your profanities and swear that he will never touch your ass for leaving you in such a mess, but all you can find yourself saying is, “Mr. Jeon.”

His eyes shoot to the sky as your mother rushes towards you. Nothing is making sense and you only wish you can read his mind to know what to do next.

“Goodness, (Y/N),” your mother hisses as she rushes towards you. “Cover yourself!”

Looking down at your bust, you gasp. Oh, right, he tore it. Crossing your arms over your chest, you look up at him and glare. But Jungkook only takes off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. It’s only when you feel your mother’s arms around you do you realize that you’re shivering.

“What have you done to yourself now?” she whispers in your ear.

Her eyes then settle on Jungkook. That look graces her face. That look of assessment. She’s scanning the unknown god up and down, looking for signs of wealth, status, and reliability. It doesn’t take her long to innocently smile and fall victim to his beauty, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Jeon.”

He bows his head then turns to you and says, “I told you not to sit on the edge.” Jungkook fakes a polished chuckle. He shakes his head at you when your eyes narrow at him. “I told her, Mrs. (L/N), I told her the marble is slippery. But, Miss (L/N) just had to get a better look at those flowers.”

You glance back at the fountain with your mother, finding an array of tiger lilies floating in the bowl. All this trouble to explain why you’re wet? You look back at him cautiously and wonder what the end of this conversation is meant to look like.

“Yes, she loves flowers,” your mother sighs. She then sets her sights on Jungkook once more and asks, “Jeon… I’m not sure I know of the Jeons. Are you from out of town?”

Jungkook charms your mother instantly with that kind, toothy smile of his. He nods and compliments her quick wits, to which she laughs, then explains, “I’m visiting for the wedding.”

The wedding? Does that mean?

“Miss (L/N) invited me. I’m rather glad to have run into you, Mrs. (L/N) as I was hoping to ask permission to escort your daughter to the wedding.”

One of your hands, previously covering your right breast, shoots up to cover your mouth out of utter shock. Did he orchestrate all this just to agree to your favour? You hope you haven’t guilted him into it. You’ve done that to get him here and admit to your relationship; you already regret doing that. You just hope he’s acting on his own accord right now.

Jungkook shoots you a wink as your mother fixes the jacket so that your uncovered breast is concealed once more. Sighing of relief, you offer him a grateful smile.

“Are you sure?” Your mother suddenly asks, looking back to Jungkook. “(Y/N) is the one you want to escort?”

He glances at you and smiles. “Miss (L/N) the one and only thing I’m always sure about.”

Your mother raises a brow at you. She smells something fishy, knows something is off about this entire encounter. You watch her carefully as she looks between you and Jungkook. And when you expect her to refuse, to lecture you in front of him, your mother adopts an opposite approach. She smiles upon the two of you and shifts you closer to Jungkook.

“I would be delighted to have you escort my daughter, Mr. Jeon,” she beams. “Do you mind walking (Y/N) to the carriages? I cannot let her go back and drip all over the Barbury’s rugs.”

Jungkook offers you his elbow, returning your mother’s smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

You stumble towards Jungkook, your mother practically pushing you into him. With a shaky hand, you take his arm and let him guide you out of the maze. After a turn or two within the tall hedges, you part your lips to ask him what he thinks he’s doing.

However, Jungkook fills the silence before you can. “I’ll buy you an entire bouquet of lilies, darling. Just promise me to never fall into a fountain again,” he laughs, exaggerating the volume of his voice.

This time, you pick up on his hints and realize that your mother must still be close by if he’s still putting up such an act. “I promise it won’t happen again, Mr. Jeon,” you innocently reply.

A smirk, you know is real, graces his features. He walks you around the manor and to the front of the house before breaking out of this noble character of his. “I think she bought it. Your mother is a very suspicious woman.”

You scoff. “That’s just one of many titles she holds,” you mumble under your breath. As you walk towards your family’s carriage, you can’t help but ask, “Why did you do that?”

Jungkook stops you before the door and takes both your hands in his. Those amused eyes linger around your exposed breasts. He chuckles a bit at the way you arch your back to keep them there, making you giggle along with him.

“Are you happy?”

You pause. Is that why he did this? To make you happy?

“Are you?”

He gives you a pointed look. “Answer the question, (Y/N).”

“Are you just doing this to make me happy, Jungkook?” You ask instead. “Because I will go back to her and tell her that we were both in that fountain and-”

“So what if I am?” He cuts you off. “I want you to be happy, (Y/N). Why is that so wrong?”

It’s not. There’s nothing wrong with him wanting you to be happy. But you want him to be happy with his decision. You’ve forced him into admitting things and meeting you. You don’t want to force him into this too. You want him to want to take you, to want to be with you. That is what true happiness is to you. It’s Jungkook unconditionally wanting you the way you unconditionally want him.

Jungkook cups your face. Leaning his forehead against yours, he whispers, “I’m sorry I make you think I don’t want you just as much as you want me.” His nose brushes against yours, hitching your breath as he presses himself against you and continues in a breathy whisper, “Watching you cry breaks me in ways I can’t describe. And being the reason for your tears just destroys me, (Y/N). I’ll do anything to see you smile again.”

Then, he presses his lips upon yours, reaching for the carriage door behind you. When he pulls away, he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, ushering you into your seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, baby,” he smiles.

You’ve misjudged him for the third time tonight. Thinking he doesn’t care for you, thinking he left you, and thinking he doesn’t want you. All you can do now is pray that he forgives you for all the curses you’ve hurled his way.

He chuckles and places kisses on both your hands. “It was very amusing actually.”

You nod. “I’m sure.” But, you’re still sorry.

With one last round of kisses over your knuckles, Jungkook promises, “I won’t be late.”

“I’ll be waiting regardless,” you immediately reply.

The next three words are on the tip of your tongue. He can almost hear them, judging by the twitch of his brows. You don’t have a chance to say them though as he clears his throat and shuts the door. You watch him from the window, shakily exhaling.

Jungkook calls the coachmen. The carriage jerks forward. The lasting image of his smirk, those sweet eyes and that muscular frame is all you try to see. However, in seconds, he’s pulled from view. The only memory you have of him remains with that sacrilegious confession in a fountain of fantasies.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Text

Moe Moe Mallekei Kyun~

In which Malleus and Cater go to a maid café, and shenanigans ensue.

... I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time.

***Warning: mild spoilers for Malleus’s PE Uniform personal story!***

Imagine this...

“Lilia-sama.”

Two bodyguards fell into line, saluting simultaneously to their vice dorm leader.

“We just finished combing through the prime gargoyle locations around campus,” Silver reported. “Unfortunately, there was no sight of Malleus-sama to be found. The accounts of the various students we interviewed also corroborate that the Young Master has not recently been spotted in the area.”

“I see. Thank you, Silver.” Lilia sighed, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Hm, this is a bit odd. Wherever could he have wandered off to this time?”

At that moment, a ping! sounded off. Lilia fished his phone out of his pocket and, with one glance at the screen, his expression softened.

“You don’t suppose some dastardly villain has… kidnapped the Young Master and is holding him for ransom, do you?!” Sebek’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at the thought. “If that is the case… THEN WE HAVE FAILED AS MALLEUS-SAMA’S KNIGHTS!!”

“Now, now--let’s not jump to conclusions. Even if that were true, I’m certain that Malleus would be able to easily fend off assailants on his own. Perhaps he has simply lost his way, or headed off campus to run an errand.”

“... Without warning us in advance?”

“I would have happily accompanied the Young Master wherever he went--EVEN TO THE ENDS OF TWISTED WONDERLAND ITSELF!!”

“Kufufu. Malleus is still young at heart. Let us allow him this moment of independence, just this once. He will find his way home eventually.”

“Welcome home, my masters!!”

Malleus skidded to a stop in the doorway—for beyond it laid unknown territory. The interior sported cream walls, with fairy lights, streamers, and paper flowers strung up. A number of tables and chairs, populated with people, were set against flowing white curtains.

Young ladies flitted about, balancing trays of food and drinks, cameras, and microphones. Each wore the same outfit, consisting of a frilly headdress, an apron, and a black dress with lace trim and ribbons.

And now, one of those uniformed girls extended a hand to him and a warm, welcoming smile.

Malleus frowned and turned to the orange haired young man beside him. “... Diamond. What is this strange establishment you’ve brought me to?”

“Mm? It’s a maid café,” Cater chirped, glancing up from his phone. “You said you’ve never been before, right?”

“Well, yes… However, when you invited me to join you for an outing, I did not expect this to be our destination.”

“It’ll be fine~ We’re already here, so let’s get seated!” Cater insisted cheerily, ushering the fae through the door.

“Right this way, my masters!” The greeter giggled and led the way, eventually stopping at a vacant table set for two. As the duo slipped into their seats, she handed them menus and moistened towels. “We have a wide selection of special services and delicious dishes for your enjoyment!”

Malleus hesitantly flipped open the (very pink) menu and ran his eyes down the page of available items. Along with the expected offerings of desserts, savory foods, and beverages were odd listings: massage, ear cleaning, karaoke, game, arts and crafts, picture, spoon feeding, live song and dance...

He stared quizzically at Cater, who seemed to be taking everything in stride.

“I’ll take a plate of omurice! How about you, Malleus-kun?”

He stared back at his menu, trying to make rhyme or reason of the unique names. What in the Great Seven was a Pyon ❤ Pyon Sunshine Bar…? Or a Lucky☆Happy☆Cookie? Malleus’s brows furrowed in both concentration and confusion.

“I… I shall have the local specialty, whatever that may be,” the fae prince declared at last.

“Excellent choices! And would you like a bunny, or a kitty?”

“You hand out animals at this eating establishment? Is that not a health code violation?”

“Aaah, Malleus-kun, she doesn’t mean real rabbits and cats. Look--you’ll see when she brings them, okay?” Cater laughed awkwardly. Then, turning to the waitress, he held up his index finger. “One of each, little lady~”

“Of course!” She scribbled down a few words on her heart shaped notepad before prancing off.

“... Diamond. Are you certain this is the fabled maid café of which you spoke of?” Malleus asked, folding his arms. “I find it difficult to believe that every patron here is descended from a high class lineage. Furthermore, the servers are wearing attire entirely unlike that of a traditional household servant.”

Cater blinked once, twice—then chuckled.

“Maid cafés are like normal cafés. Anyone can go to them to play pretend and chill for a while! The difference is that the waitresses are dressed cutely and offer fun services. Singing, dancing, playing games—that kinda thing!”

“I do not understand.” Malleus swept a hand at their surroundings. “The purpose of this establishment is merely for… amusement?”

“Yup! People get tired of the daily grind sometimes, so they go to places like this to see cute stuff and just take a load off.”

“I… I see.” Malleus tucked his thumb and forefinger under his chin. “We do not have anything like your maid cafes in the Valley of Thorns.”

“You don’t? What sort of things do you do back home for fun, then?”

“I was not allowed to venture far from the palace grounds. Most of my time was spent indoors, studying spells or honing my magical abilities.”

Cater inclined his head. “Oooh, right! Because you’re a prince and all, you weren’t able to do much—but hey! Things are different now! You’ve got Cay-kun to show you a good time!”

“Ah, yes. A ‘good time’...” Malleus attempted at a smile, which came out more wary than he had intended.

“Thank you for waiting!” a girlish voice chirped—their waitress had returned, wearing a tray of food in one hand and two headbands in the other. “Here is your omurice and Nyan ✨ Nyan ✨ Kitty-chan Parfait, plus one pair of kitty ears and one pair of bunny ears!”

She handed Cater his dish—a bed of ketchup flavored fried rice, sealed by a wobbling omelet and garnished with a sprig of parsley.

“Mm! Smells delicious. Thanks a bunch~” Cater grinned, winking at his server.

The maid giggled and placed Malleus’s dessert before him, along with the headbands.

“Would you like me to draw or write something special for you on your meal, master?” she asked, gesturing to Cater’s omurice.

“Sure thing! Could you write ‘Mallekei’? Oh, and a couple of hearts would be cute, too!”

“As you wish!”

As the maid set to work, Malleus marveled at the sight of his parfait.

Colorful scoops of ice-cream, granola, and sliced fruits were layered inside of a tall glass cup. A generous crown of whipped cream and a drizzle of strawberry sauce topped it off. Sticking out from the whipped cream were two wafer triangles and dots of chocolate candies, forming a cat-like face.

How adorable.

… But not adorable enough to be spared.

“Thank you for the food.” The fae raised his spoon to demolish the poor parfait kitten—

“Stop, stop, Malleus-kun!!” Cater cried, frantically waving his arms. “N-Not yet!!”

Malleus lowered his spoon with a frown. “Food is meant to be consumed, Diamond. Is there an issue you have with my table etiquette?”

“Well—no, but…” Cater played with a lock of his orange hair and sighed. “There’s certain rituals we need to do first!”

“Rituals? Oh, my apologies. I was not aware. Please proceed with your regularly scheduled… rituals.”

“Ahaha, you’re a quick learner! First thing’s first, let’s put on our headbands!” Cater swept up the cat ears and passed them over. “Here, to match your parfait! I’ll take the rabbit.”

Malleus gingerly nestled the cat ears on his head, copying Cater’s movements. It was a bit tricky maneuvering around his horns, but somehow, he managed.

“Oh!! Those ears suit you so well!” the waitress said, glancing up from decorating the omurice. Carefully placed splotches of ketchup spelled out ‘Mallekei’, hearts and little sparkles littering the space around the boys’ combined names.

“... Do they?” Malleus doubted it.

“They do!!” Cater reassured him with a laugh. “Ne, ne, miss! Can you take our picture so my friend here can have a souvenir to take home with him?”

“Certainly!” She replaced the bottle of ketchup and hurried off, returning shortly after with a polaroid camera. “Are you ready, my masters?”

“Ready, Malleus-kun?”

“Hmph. Of course. I will have you know that my posing abilities have improved considerably since our last encounter. Do not underestimate me.”

“Oh, that’s great! You’ve been practicing! Then… on the count of three, we nyah, okay?”

“... What is ‘nyah’?” Malleus inquired, his confidence suddenly waning.

“Eh?” A blip of surprise crossed Cater’s face. “Like, y’know… nyah!”

The influencer curled both of his hands into balls and made a pawing motion at his friend. “Now you try!”

“Like this?” Malleus mimicked him. He was more stiff—definitely not as practiced—but the general motion was still recognizable.

“Very good, master!!” the waitress gushed, raising the polaroid up. “On three?”

“1, 2, 3… Nyah!”

A flash went off, sending stars into Malleus’s vision. As he rubbed the daze out of his eyes, Cater’s voice called out to him.

“Are you okay there?”

“I am well. There is no need for your concern,” the fae insisted. “This ritual… it is more confounding that I took it to be.”

“Eeeh? It’s not meant to be hard or anything. Just relax, relax!” Cater paused before adding, “It’s part of the ritual’s requirements! You need to be nice and loose for the last step!”

“What is this last step?”

“We need to cast a magic spell to make your food taste extra tasty!” the waitress declared cheerily.

“Hoh?” A smirk found its way onto Malleus’s face. “That can easily be arranged. Allow me to do the honors.”

He put his hand before his parfait, an eerie green glow emulating from his palm. The sinister light engulfed his dish and Cater’s, sending them floating midair. Radioactive ice-cream and omurice hovered above their heads, causing both Cater and their maid to recoil in shock.

Other customers stared at the spectacle from their own tables. One man’s jaw dropped, the forkful of spaghetti bolognese in his mouth clattering onto the floor.

“You, who provides sustenance to the masses, become that which is delici—“

“H-Hold on a sec, Malleus-kun!!” Cater practically leapt over the table to seize his friend’s glowing hand. “Not that kind of spell!!”

Eyes wide with surprise, Malleus allowed his magic to settle down. The parfait and omurice gently floated back onto their table, and the maid sighed with relief.

“Is there a different spell needed for this occasion? I assure you that I am well-versed in practical magic—you need only speak its name, and I can conjure the proper…”

“No, no! It’s—“ Cater casted a look at their server and nervously chuckled. “Ne, Maid-chan~ Think you can give us a demonstration of the right spell?”

“Yes, master!” the girl, ever professional, flashed a perky grin. “Please watch carefully!!”

The maid set down her polaroid on the table. She then arched her fingers into C-like shapes, thumb extended straight. Pushing her hands together, she formed a heart and aimed it in the direction of the boy’s dishes.

“Moe moe kyuuuuuun!”

“What an odd spell. In all my years, I have never heard of such an enchantment…”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, right?” Cater flicked one of his floppy rabbit ears. “Plus, it should be no problem for the great Malleus-sama to pull off this spell, right?”

“This is child’s play,” Malleus’s laugh was like the earth itself rumbling. His lips quirked into a small smile. “You will join me in performing this sacred ritual, will you not, Diamond?”

“Of course~”

“Very well.”

They made hearts and thrust them upon their meals. And together, they uttered those three magic words.

“Moe moe kyuuuuun!!”

“Welcome back, Malleus,” Lilia greeted. The vice dorm leader nonchalantly hung from the ceiling, his raven and magenta bangs suspended midair. “Did you have fun on your outing?”

“Lilia. You knew?” Malleus slowly shut the door behind him, chasing away the cool air of the night. He spoke softly, knowing that sounds carried in the dusty hallways of Diasomnia and could disturb its residents.

“The wonders of modern technology,” Lilia trilled, expertly landing beside his young master. He brandished his phone in a gloved hand, a text message displayed on the screen.

hey hey lilia-chan! gonna steal malmal-kun for the day~ he’ll be back later, but do me a solid and keep it a secret from s&s til then, ‘kay? thnx!! (✿˶˘ ³˘)~♡

“It looks as though I have been exposed.”

“There is no shame in making new friends. In fact, I’m proud of you for expanding your horizons.” Lilia beamed. “Though what a shame it is that I was not present to grab a few pictures. Hopefully Cater fulfilled that task for me.”

The ancient fae tilted forward in his toes and peered up at his prince. “Soooo? Where did you sneak off to?”

“Fufu. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“My. Is that any way to treat the man that kept Silver and Sebek from hunting you down?” Lilia teased, wagging a finger.

“Such loyalty,” Malleus smirked, hands on his hips, “deserves to be rewarded.”

He produced a polaroid photograph from his breast pocket and presented it with a flourish. The image, forever captured in time, was that of Malleus and Cater—the former with cat ears, the latter with bunny ears—with hands balled to resemble paws. Cater cheekily winked, while Malleus looked slightly bewildered.

The edges of the polaroid were dotted with stickers—smiley faces, flowers, and hearts. Marker had been used to scrawl on whiskers and blushes over both boys’ cheeks.

Overall, cutesy—overwhelming so.

But the Malleus and Cater in the picture were happy.

Their eyes shining like jewels.

Nyah-ing their hearts out.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Cater Diamond #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #spoilers

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anaiswriterr · 4 years

Text

Smoke & Mirrors

Pairing: Deku x Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This screamtober fic may not be suitable for younger readers: ANGST !!! possession, two faced monster living under your bed at night, language, implied abuse.

Synopsis: He loves you, he really does. He’s the perfect image of a boyfriend everyone could see that. Caring, loving, sweet, strong... but that’s what he wants others to think.. behind closed doors he’s the reason why you’re scared of the dark. He’s the monster hiding in your closet, he’s the monster under your bed.

- smoke & mirrors - screamtober part seven -

•

The marriage of the number one pro hero plastered every magazine cover, the bold lettering standing out to the public exclaiming the joy the two heroes felt about one another.

Some would say it’s a match made in heaven, the perfect couple that caught everyone’s attention. Despite the angered fans girls Y/N said yes to Izuku in their living room. Flaunting the sapphire encrusted ring to the public the next day while on patrol.

To everyone, behind closed doors, Izuku Midoriya was the perfect companion.

To her, Izuku was a nightmare disguised as a daydream.

He became the idol, symbol of peace along side his colleagues. The idol in peoples lives.

Though, his grip on her hand would tighten in front of others, just enough to keep her in place but not enough to draw a small wince of pain from her lips. In front of her parents, during dinner, he would place a hand on her inner thigh, caressing and squeezing the soft skin. Most days he would be the daydream she married, the daydream she would’ve dreamt of marrying since a young age.

“Izuku..” Y/N cooed into his ear running her fingers through his loose curls, allowing him to rest on her chest. Enjoying the warmth his body radiated, content with the peacefulness of the day. She hoped it’d stay that why, days like these never lasted though.

Izuku was a frustrated man, with pent up anger built up inside him. Though, he never layed a hand on her, but he’s definitely thought about it when he had Y/N pinned beneath him, her hands beating his chest exclaiming to let her go. “I can’t keep doing this anymore! We’re done, it’s over!” She argued.

He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back into the mattress roughly, his teeth gritting together, Y/N’s hands wrap around his wrists - attempting to push him off. He could easily snap her bones, if he applied more pressure he wondered if he could actually do that to her. Snapping her bones.. its tempting to say the least.

He slams her back down, “Like hell you are,” He hisses, fighting against her squirming body underneath, her yelling grew loud as the couple argued in each others face. “I said you’re not leaving me!” He said, finally letting go of her shoulders and walks away. Her figure is molded into the mattress, trembling in anger she reaches out for their nightstand and throws an empty glass cup beside his head. The shards shattering on the wall beside him, tumbling down to the wooden floor boards.

He doesn’t turn around immediately.

He takes the time to process her bold action, she wanted to hurt him..

She tried to hurt.. him.

When he finally turns around, its slow. His glare intensifies with each passing second, Y/N nearly gasps when he pounces on her. His hand snakes around her neck, his long fingers tightly clutch onto the sides. Y/N’s eyes go widen, ridden in fear. Izuku drinks up the fear in pleasure, loving to see her cower beneath him. “What's the matter, doll?”

***

Y/N cries in her sleep sometimes.

Not because she’s sad, and not because she’s in pain. But instead she cries at her stupidity, this wasn’t the man she married, this wasn’t the man she met in her third year at UA, and most certainly this wasn’t the man that was to humble to accept gifts and simple thank you's from fans and civilians he saved.

She cried in fear, he had the whole world wrapped around his finger. Even her parents.

In the open he was the perfect deception, yet behind closed doors it was a whole different story. It always was a different story with him, she loved him, despite the anger that dwelled in him, despite the monster he could be, and despite the broken glass. He was home.

People don’t believe when she says she wants to file a divorce against the pro hero.

How could she?! A pro hero? She’s living the dream! Married to number one, owner of her own agency, a ‘loving’ husband, what else could she want. Rumors spread like wildfire when photographers and paparazzi zoom in close too her hand. “Where’s the ring!!?” People go wild, it’s true! She’s leaving, never has she ever dared take off that ring. Izuku couldn’t help but rip that magazine open, eyes gone wide.

Y/N was leaving..

And he wasn’t going to allow it.

Izuku comes home early, early enough to catch Y/N stuffing a small amount of clothes into a bag. Not even noticing her husbands presence at the doorway, his eyes pierce into her back watching closely as she hurries across the bedroom. Y/N gasps when she finally peers into the vanity mirror and notices Izuku, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

His nostrils flare in anger.

The next day, Y/N didn’t go out. But when Y/N finally did - the ring was right back on her fingers, her eyes bruised from crying the night prior, thick glasses covered her eyes from the public and their cameras.

Izuku was sweet.

Izuku was loving.

Izuku was kind.

But Izuku was the two faced liar Y/N married, the one who had the world wrapped around his finger, the man she grew to love - who stole her heart and swept her off her feet at such a young age.

Like day and night, it was a cycle. Cycle of love, cycle of hate, cycle of fear.

This was not the man Y/N married, this was not the man she read her vows too.. This was the monster under her bed. Whom she loved, and hated.

The man she stared down as she straddled his hips, with a knife plunged deep into his chest. Blood splatters over her face, and her pajamas are soaked. But she laughs as officers carry her out with handcuffs when she convicted and processed for his murder after turning herself in. He couldn’t hurt her anymore.

“Wife gone mad!” They cried, but they’ll never know the monster that lived under her bed. The monster who kept her up.

TAGLIST: @pavlovs-titties @explosivefireworks @utopiamiroh @hikaru-mikazuki @strangethingsatthecirclek @myheroesaretired @clever-username96 dumbthingsuwusblog

Next: Takami Amajiki x Reader - I’m not your bunny! -

#deku x reader #bnha izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku midoria x reader #mha izuku #yandere mha #mha yandere #mha x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #deku headcanons #izuku headcanons #mha imagines #bnha imagines #deku imagines #izuku imagines #mha smut #bnha smut

249 notes · View notes

osakaso5 · 3 years

Text

IDOLiSH7 End Of Year Story 2020: A Stage of Celebration

Every Day is a Good Day Part 1: Standby

Part 2

Otoharu Takanashi: Tsumugi, Banri-kun. Happy New Year!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Happy New Year.

Banri Ogami: Happy New Year! It's a pleasure to be working with you for another one!

Otoharu Takanashi: We haven't even celebrated yet, and we're already back at work!

Otoharu Takanashi: We got through BorW and wrapped up the previous year, but there's still much to be done.

Otoharu Takanashi: I want to take care of what still remains as soon as I can, and I'll need your help to do so.

Tsumugi Takanashi: What still remains..?

Banri Ogami: As soon as possible..?

Otoharu Takanashi: Yes. There's something we've yet to fully go through with.

Tsumugi & Banri: ........

Tsumugi & Banri: Our TRIGGER impersonator show..?

Otoharu Takanashi: Exactly!

Otoharu Takanashi: We even learned the dance for that first anniversary party, but we haven't had the chance to show everyone our moves!

Tsumugi Takanashi: I guess not!

Banri Ogami: I'd completely forgotten!

Otoharu Takanashi: We might as well throw a big New Year's party and make our debut there!

Banri Ogami: Alright! I'll be counting on you, Tenn!

Tsumugi Takanashi: And I'll be counting on you, Ryu.

Otoharu Takanashi: Good, you're both raring to perform. However, we won't be doing a show as TRIGGER.

Tsumugi Takanashi: We're not? Then who..?

Ogami Banri: Re:vale, maybe? Am I going to play Yuki, since I'm the tallest..?

Tsumugi Takanashi: Yuki, you're such a hunk..!

Banri Ogami: You always were quick to get to work, Momo.

Otoharu Takanashi: No, we're not doing Re:vale either. I gave this more thought than that.

Otoharu Takanashi: We have plenty of great idols right here, in our own agency.

Otoharu Takanashi: It would be wrong of us to pretend like we're idols from any other place!

Banri Ogami: So..!

Tsumugi Takanashi: We're impersonating IDOLiSH7!?

Otoharu Takanashi: Precisely!

Kinako: Myu myu~!

Banri Ogami: But there's seven of them. We'll need more people.

Tsumugi Takanashi: And if we ask people from our staff, they might feel forced to do it...

Banri Ogami: The newer employees would probably have a hard time refusing a request from the president, the president's daughter, and a long- time veteran...

Otoharu Takanashi: Don't worry about numbers. Plenty of people from various third parties have offered their help!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Third parties?

Banri Ogami: Like who..?

Otoharu Takanashi: Helper number one!

Otoharu Takanashi: Sosuke Yaotome, from Yaotome Productions!

Tsumugi & Banri: ........

Tsumugi Takanashi: The president of Yaotome Productions agreed to help us..? Really..?

Otoharu Takanashi: Yep! When I called him, he was all like, "Yeah, totally! Let's get crackalackin'!"

Banri Ogami: I don't remember him having that type of personality...

Tsumugi Takanashi: I don't think he'd ever use words like "crackalackin'"...

Otoharu Takanashi: Helper number two!

Otoharu Takanashi: Our friendly neighborhood soba delivery man.

Banri Ogami: Ah! The guy who looks just like Yaotome-kun!

Tsumugi Takanashi: He'll probably be a good dancer! Did he really agree to help us?

Otoharu Takanashi: As soon as I asked him! All he wants to know is whose parts he'll do, and what song we'll perform!

Banri Ogami: He sure sounds motivated!

Tsumugi Takanashi: That he does! How exciting!

Otoharu Takanashi: Helper number three!

Otoharu Takanashi: Iori-kun and Mitsuki-kun's father!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Their who!?

Banri Ogami: Sir, are you sure you weren't hounding him to do it..?

Otoharu Takanashi: Of course not! He said that after all we've done for his sons, he'll help if the situation absolutely demands it!

Otoharu Takanashi: And he said we could help convince him even further by ordering a bunch of Christmas cakes.

Banri Ogami: He doesn't sound very excited to help at all...

Otoharu Takanashi: I'm sure it'll work out. Finally! Our last helper!

Otoharu Takanashi: Iori-kun and Mitsuki-kun's mother!

Tsumugi Takanashi: No...

Banri Ogami: Now I'm sure you did something to force them into this! If they're both helping us, who'll run their bakery?

Otoharu Takanashi: She said that if it's a matter of life and death, she'll help, since her sons are on our payroll...

Banri Ogami: She was almost definitely refusing, if that's how she phrased it.

Tsumugi Takanashi: You're unbelievable, President. I need to call them later and apologize...

Tsumugi Takanashi: Cake stores are especially busy around December. And so is the soba restaurant, now that I think about it...

Otoharu Takanashi: Yeah... That's true... They did all outright refuse my invitation later.

Banri Ogami: I knew it... They wouldn't have the time, not with Christmas and the New Year...

Tsumugi Takanashi: I guess that means our IDOLiSH7 isn't happening...

Otoharu Takanashi: Don't give up yet! I've gotten new potential helpers!

Otoharu Takanashi: Let me introduce them to you right away! Come on in!

Tsumugi Takanashi: They're already here!?

Banri Ogami: We've got a full cast for our IDOLiSH7 impersonator group..!?

Otoharu Takanashi: New member number 1!

Otoharu Takanashi: Kaoru Anesagi!

Kaoru Anesagi: Good evening.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Anesagi-san..!

Banri Ogami: So you're one of our new members!

Kaoru Anesagi: It's more that I was asked to help by our... I mean, Yaotome Productions' president.

Kaoru Anesagi: I hear your dad was bombarding him with calls for help. Try not to bother him next time.

Tsumugi Takanashi: I'm so sorry about him...

Otoharu Takanashi: New member number 2!

Otoharu Takanashi: Rinto Okazaki!

Rinto Okazaki: Good evening!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Okazaki-san!

Banri Ogami: Did our president ask you for help, as well?

Kaoru Anesagi: I asked him! If I'm going to start the year by making a fool out of myself, I'm taking as many people down with me as I can.

Rinto Okazaki: I will be made no fool! I've been working out, and taking dance lessons!

Otoharu Takanashi: You're taking this so seriously, Okazaki-kun!

Rinto Okazaki: But of course! As a fellow glasses wearer, I've been focusing on Yamato-kun's parts!

Kaoru Anesagi: So you just went and hogged the leader's role. As for me, I just so happen to have many of Nagi Rokuya's moves memorized, for strictly professional reasons.

Banri Ogami: I could probably pull off either half of MEZZO"!

Otoharu Takanashi: In that case, maybe I should be the other half of MEZZO? You can teach me!

Banri Ogami: So-chan.

Otoharu Takanashi: Tamaki-kun.

Rinto Okazaki: You make a great MEZZO" already!

Kaoru Anesagi: What about you, Takanashi-san? Whose part do you want to play?

Tsumugi Takanashi: I'm not sure yet. Who would fit me the best..?

Otoharu Takanashi: Before that, I have more new members to introduce to you!

Otoharu Takanashi: Kinako!

Kinako: Myu myu~!

Banri Ogami: Kinako! You'll finally get your own debut!

Kinako: Myu~!

Rinto Okazaki: Can she dance?

Otoharu Takanashi: Of course she can. I interviewed her on what she wants to do, and...

Kaoru Anesagi: Wait. You successfully interviewed a rabbit?

Otoharu Takanashi: I can more or less read her vibes! And she wants to take Iori-kun's role!

Kinako: Myu myu~!

Tsumugi Takanashi: So you'll be doing Iori-san's parts. That's great, Kinako!

Banri Ogami: Iori-kun may complain and call her a "fluffy creature"...

Banri Ogami: But he always buys cutesy rabbit stuff!

Kinako: Myu myu~♪

Rinto Okazaki: ......! She's performing the hook to Perfection Gimmick...!

Kaoru Anesagi: What a talented bunny!

Otoharu Takanashi: And now, our last new member!

Otoharu Takanashi: Come on in, so I can introduce you to everyone!

???: Good evening. It's a pleasure to meet you all.

Tsumugi, Banri, Kaoru, & Rinto: ......!

Tsumugi, Banri, Kaoru, & Rinto: Who!?

- - - -

Tamaki Yotsuba: Stick the chopsticks here, aaand... Okay! I'm done!

Riku Nanase: I'm done, too!

Mitsuki Izumi: Done with what? You guys have been cutting and gluing milk cartons to chopsticks for a while now...

Riku Nanase: Our handmade shuttlecock rackets! Tamaki learned how to make these on a news show he was on!

Nagi Rokuya: Beautiful! Did you draw these pictures on the rackets, as well?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Yep! Mine's King Pudding!

Riku Nanase: Mine is kagami mochi! Look, that's the orange, and that's the mochi!

Iori Izumi: You don't need to explain every individual part of it. Here you go, the shuttle is ready.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Awesome! Let's play right now, Rikkun!

Riku Nanase: Are you sure we won't hit things if we play here?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Even if we do, it's not like our rackets and shuttle are gonna break anything.

Mitsuki Izumi: Ahaha. Just don't hit the rest of us!

Riku Nanase: We won't!

Iori Izumi: Somehow, I don't trust you to make sure of that...

Riku Nanase: Let's do this, Tamaki! Here you... go!

[Tap]

Sogo Osaka: Good morning.

Yamato Nikaido: Good mor...

[Thump]

Yamato Nikaido: ...Whoagh!

Riku Nanase: Aaah! I'm so sorry, Yamato-san!

Yamato Nikaido: What are you two doing..? You scared the crap out of me.

Riku & Tamaki: Playing shuttlecock...

Yamato Nikaido: Play outside next time.

Tamaki Yotsuba: But we were so busy watching all the New Year's TV shows that we didn't have time to go outside!

Sogo Osaka: But you got to fly a kite on the set of that shoot we did the other day. Didn't you like that?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Yeah, but it's not the same thing as shuttlecock! Can't we play a little later?

Yamato Nikaido: Oh wow, did you make these rackets yourselves?

Riku Nanase: Yes! We just finished them, so they're brand new!

Yamato Nikaido: Y’know, the best part of shuttlecock is hazing the loser. Riku, you're the one who missed, right? That means you're in for a punishment.

Riku Nanase: Are you going to doodle on my face?

Mitsuki Izumi: He better not. We've got a shoot ahead of us.

Yamato Nikaido: I know, I know. I'll draw on his belly instead.

Riku Nanase: My belly?

Yamato Nikaido: It's not like you’ll be lifting up your shirt on camera. Now get me a calligraphy pen.

Iori Izumi: Are you serious about doing this?

Riku Nanase: ...Ahaha..!

Sogo Osaka: You're not already being drawn on, are you?

Riku Nanase: I'm laughing in advance..!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Rikkun might start coughing, so you can draw on my belly instead.

Yamato Nikaido: Are you sure you won't start showing off your abs on TV or anything?

Iori Izumi: Are you sure you won't undress in front of the cameras?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Why would I?

Yamato Nikaido: Well, you're young...

Iori Izumi: ...And very energetic, at that.

Riku Nanase: In that case, you should draw King Pudding on Tamaki's stomach!

Yamato Nikaido: King Pudding!? I dunno if I can...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Eek! It's cold!

Nagi Rokuya: Tamaki! I am taking a picture! Whoosh!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Quit making shuttlecock noises!

[Snap]

Nagi Rokuya: OH! Now that is a fine photo. Take a look, Sogo!

Sogo Osaka: Ahaha. He's making such a funny face.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Don't be mean, So-chan!

Sogo Osaka: I didn't mean it in a mean way. It's just so different from how cool you usually are...

Yamato Nikaido: Uh, is this correct? Did I miss something?

Mitsuki Izumi: The beard, maybe? Doesn't King Pudding have one of those?

Iori Izumi: ...A ribbon.

Riku Nanase: Right! His ribbon!

Yamato Nikaido: Like this?

Nagi Rokuya: No, no, no! The king only wears a crown on his head! The ribbon goes around his neck...

Yamato Nikaido: I'll just scribble over that part so it doesn't show.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Hey, that tickles!

Iori Izumi: Must I remind you that his stomach still needs to be in a presentable state for any potential cameras?

Riku Nanase: Ahaha! I've never heard a stomach get called presentable! What does yours look like, Iori?

Iori Izumi: Huh?

Riku Nanase: Is it presentable?

Iori Izumi: Are you seriously trying to lift up my shirt so you can take a peek!? As if I wouldn't notice..!?

Riku Nanase: Yamato-san saw mine!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Plus you were totally looking at my belly, Iorin!

Iori Izumi: That's because you had it out for the whole world to see, Yotsuba-san!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Well, was it presentable?

Riku Nanase: It was fine!

Tamaki Yotsuba: In that case, we can swap my belly out for Iorin's if we need to.

Mitsuki Izumi: With your body types, you wouldn't fool anyone for very long. Ah... I just remebered something. It's about our manager.

Riku Nanase: What about her?

Mitsuki Izumi: She's been looking tired lately. It doesn't seem too bad, but she did tell me she was having muscle pains all over just the other day.

Yamato Nikaido: Come to think of it, I think the lights were on in the lesson room when I went to visit the agency late one night.

Sogo Osaka: It feels like Banri-san's been working late for the past few day, too. I'm a little worried...

Nagi Rokuya: Hm... When we are busy, our managers have much work as well.

Nagi Rokuya: Hopefully, they will have the time to rest at our New Year's party.

Mitsuki Izumi: We should make all their favorite foods for them, as a surprise!

Yamato Nikaido: Great idea!

Yamato Nikaido: Fancy takeout and sushi can be nice, but there's something especially relaxing about eating your favorite food.

Riku Nanase: I think she's told me what foods she likes before. I'll try to remember what they were!

Iori Izumi: You do that. Does anyone know what Ogami-san and the president like?

Tamaki Yotsuba: I dunno about Ban-chan. I think he likes birds, so maybe fried chicken?

Sogo Osaka: He did mention that he likes grilled meat. Banri-san's quite the cook, himself.

Tamaki Yotsuba: We've been to Ban-chan's place a couple times, and he always makes us yummy food.

Sogo Osaka: He adds just the right amount of spice, too. And on top of that, he's good at other housework.

Mitsuki Izumi: He told me he lived alone with his dad for a pretty long time.

Mitsuki Izumi: He had to learn how to cook, since his dad was too busy and no good around the kitchen.

Yamato Nikaido: What about the president? Does anyone here know?

Nagi Rokuya: He seems to enjoy meat stew. I hear it was a specialty of the dearly departed Mrs. Musubi.

Iori Izumi: So he likes simple home cooking. Or manager makes great meat stew, too.

Mitsuki Izumi: Home cooking, huh. I'll need to make it have that same homely taste, instead of trying anything new.

Mitsuki Izumi: Gramps, you're gonna have to sweet talk our manager into giving you the recipe.

Yamato Nikaido: Fine. I'll try asking around.

Riku Nanase: I can't wait for the party! Hopefully, they'll like it too!

- - - -

[Tic tic tic]

[Ding!]

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Hot, hot! It's done, you two!

Gaku Yaotome: Ooh. The mochi smells great.

Tenn Kujo: Don't eat too much. Mochi is high in calories.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: It's a staple of the New Year's dinner table! You can wrap it in seaweed, put it in zouni or zenzai soups...

Gaku Yaotome: I discovered a really great way to eat mochi the other day.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: What is it?

Gaku Yaotome: Eat it with some grated radish, whitebait, and soy sauce.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: That sounds really good!

Gaku Yaotome: It's the result of lots of experimentation.

Tenn Kujo: You're customizing mochi like it's tapioca pearls.

Gaku Yaotome: Hey, don't call it customizing. All you eat is abekawa mochi, anyway.

Tenn Kujo: Because it's nice and simple. What about you, Ryu? What do you like?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Kaasa muuchi. It's sweet mochi, wrapped in shell ginger leaves.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Still, I like mochi in all its forms. The pizza style mochi we made the other day was good, too.

Gaku Yaotome: Sure was. Oh, did Anesagi leave this magazine here?

Tenn Kujo: Hey. Don't read magazines while eating your mochi.

Gaku Yaotome: I wasn't gonna. I just wanted to check it out right before eating mochi.

Tenn Kujo: Now you're just splitting hairs.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Ahaha. You're just like my younger brothers.

Gaku Yaotome: Oh shut up, big bro.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Ahaha! Now you're even starting to sound like them.

Tenn Kujo: Heh. That's younger brothers for you. As soon as you give them any advice, they get defensive.

Gaku Yaotome: Ahaha. Must be tough, being the oldest sibling. So, is Anesagi gonna be back soon?

Tenn Kujo: She said she would be.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: It's been a while since we last had a quiet New Year.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: We'll have to go on tour again at the end of January, but at least we'll have some down time before then.

Gaku Yaotome: Yep! Problem is, I have no idea what to do with all this free time.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Same here! Usually, I never run out of stuff to do.

Gaku Yaotome: Maybe I could go buy a grab bag.

Tenn Kujo: They're all sold out by now.

Gaku Yaotome: Really?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Ah... Looks like this magazine comes with a poster.

Gaku Yaotome: Oh, who's on it?

Tenn Kujo: I told you to leave the magazine alone while you're eating...

Gaku Yaotome: I'm not even eating yet. I just wanna check whose poster it is. ...Here we go!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: It's Nagi-kun!

Tenn Kujo: Nagi Rokuya.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: He's so cool. I mean, he always was, but he's even more cool now that I know he's an actual prince.

Gaku Yaotome: Whether he's a Northmarean prince or an otaku wandering around Akihabara, he's still the same old Rokuya.

Tenn Kujo: Right. Huh... We're not in this magazine at all.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Anesagi-san did say she'd research stuff that we're not in.

Gaku Yaotome: She also said she'd cut back on spending now that we're without an agency.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Now that you mention it, I guess she did...

Tenn Kujo: ........ You know, I've been thinking...

Gaku Yaotome: What?

Tenn Kujo: Do you think Anesagi-san might be a Nagi Rokuya stan?

Gaku Yaotome: No way. We're the only people she'd ever stan.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: She probably does stan us... But as just an ordinary fan.

Tenn Kujo: Exactly.

Gaku Yaotome: But why would she be his fan, when she's got us?

Tenn Kujo: Do you not like that she's his fan?

Gaku Yaotome: Well, yeah. It makes me feel jealous!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I like how honest you can be about these things, Gaku.

Gaku Yaotome: Are you saying you're okay with it, Ryu!?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I... guess I am? I like both Anesagi-san and Nagi-kun, and she's free to stan whoever she likes.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: What about you, Tenn?

Tenn Kujo: I...

Tenn Kujo: I'm jealous, too.

Gaku Yaotome: Knew it.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I had no idea!

Tenn Kujo: Of course I'm jealous. Though I don't feel particularly angry or offended over it.

Tenn Kujo: It makes me want to do something, so she'll only look at us.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: You guys are so cute...

Gaku Yaotome: We're not trying to be cute. This is a matter of pride.

Tenn Kujo: Yes, it is.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: I know. You're cool too, not just cute. But, haha... I guess you've got a point.

Gaku Yaotome: You're too calm about this. Don't you ever feel jealous, or frustrated over this kinda stuff?

Tenn Kujo: You don't feel even a little betrayed by our manager?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: A little bit, maybe, but I feel like all four of you are mine, in a bigger sense.

Gaku & Tenn: That's pretty big...

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Similarly, I think I both belong and don't belong to everyone else, so I don't really get super jealous.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: So, you felt betrayed, huh? It makes me really happy that you both care so much about Anesagi-san!

Gaku Yaotome: Quit grinning at us. Oh well, if she's got her eyes on other idols, we'll just have to work harder to only make her look at us again.

Tenn Kujo: Exactly. She'll be obsessing over us in no time.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Sure. Let me just put the magazine and the poster away.

[Door opens]

Kaoru Anesagi: I'm home. Oh, what a delicious smell.

Gaku Yaotome: Anesagi.

Kaoru Anesagi: What is it, Gaku?

Gaku Yaotome: We'll keep you satisfied, so don't you dare look at other men.

Kaoru Anesagi: Excuse me!?

Tenn Kujo: Just you wait. We'll steal your heart back, and leave you no time to look at anyone else.

Kaoru Anesagi: What is going on here!? Are you doing some kind of fanservice thing!? Gosh, I'm blushing!!!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Oh, Anesagi-san. Did you change clothes before coming back here?

Kaoru Anesagi: I did. My other clothes were soaked in sweat...

Gaku Yaotome: Sweat?

Tenn Kujo: On a cold winter day like this?

Kaoru Anesagi: Ah... Um... Forget I said anything!

Kaoru Anesagi: In any case, you're all going to Takanashi Productions' New Year's party, right?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Yes. We got invited, after all.

Kaoru Anesagi: Then it looks like I'll have to keep working hard... Ouch.

Gaku Yaotome: What's wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?

Kaoru Anesagi: I'm just having muscle pains, that's all. Make sure to get plenty of rest, you three. You've earned it.

Tenn Kujo: Leaving again so soon?

Kaoru Anesagi: I need to do some solo excerci... I mean, examinations! Later!

[Slam]

Gaku Yaotome: ...She seemed busy.

Tenn Kujo: And tired...

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: She needs a break just as much as we do, though.

Gaku Yaotome: I know. How about we make Anesagi's favorite foods for the New Year's party?

Tenn Kujo: What foods? And for someone else's party?

Gaku Yaotome: Yeah. Izumi Senior told me they were making their managers and president a big New Year's feast, too.

Gaku Yaotome: I thought we could do a little something for our manager, too.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: That's a great idea! Tenn, do you know what foods she likes?

Tenn Kujo: She said she likes anything with lots of cheese, like cheese fondue. Recently, she's also been into cheese dak-galbi.

Gaku Yaotome: Yeah, she sure has. Alright... Let's do this.

Tenn Kujo: Will we all fit into their kitchen, though?

Gaku Yaotome: Let me ask Izumi Senior. I'll message him now.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Did he tell you what foods President Takanashi and Ogami-san like?

Gaku Yaotome: Meat stew and fried chicken.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: That sounds like the menu of an all-male household.

Gaku Yaotome: As for what the president's daughter likes...

[Phone rings]

Gaku Yaotome: Ah, he replied.

Tenn Kujo: What's Mitsuki Izumi's response?

Gaku Yaotome: He says it's no problem!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Great!

Tenn Kujo: I guess that means we're all set for our big show of gratitude to Anesagi-san.

Tenn Kujo: I can't wait for the party.

To be continued...

#idolish7 #a stage of celebration #translation #i7 #trigger #other translations

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sugar-petals · 4 years

Text

Cuddling With SuperM

↳ ❤︎ CARO’S NOTE: their concept is all about badassery i know but we’re dealing with seven angels so let’s talk about that shall we

warnings ⚠️ some light teasing, innuendo

length: 1.5k

taeyong

am i really telling you something ground-breaking with this:

so this guy’s truly adorable

turns into a baby what else is new

draws his knees to his chest and just enjoys the ride with his eyes closed

you can do whatever the hell you want

back rubs, head pats, foot massages, caressing the neck or underneath the chin which is particularly sweet

and a whole lot of tickling he’s kinda obsessed with this

excellent chef he is, taeyong enjoys preparing snacks for a set cuddling time or movie night

so what if this turns into feeding each other basically are you ready for that

this guy’s impossible face up close is hard to bear for the faint-hearted just mentioning that in passing here

because… he has that one yearning expression and his eye contact is very steady

bit of a duality here huh

but worry not because taeyong’s tiger inside is more of a cat actually, tyongkitty behavior guaranteed right there

he does do friendly head buts and yeah the eye contact is also a cat thing now that i think about it… it all makes sense now

ten, baekhyun, lucas and taemin are pretty cocky types of cuddlers, taeyong leads the more subdued fraction in super m

it’s the kind of cuddling that needs rainy weather and a cup of tea

ten

quality time right here

banter is always included ofc

or at least a lot of talk because with ten, conversation and cuddles go together

likes pets joining, three’s a party, a cat can always make a snuggly contribution

add a ball of wool to play around

like. a-you, a-me, and a cat right in between ya see

music is always playing in the background, always

ten’s body is very sensual… you can tell he’s a dancer by the way he’s adapting, how he’s feeling it, how he moves in general

the reflexes are just so different he has great feeling for what you wanna do next it’s his bodily intuition and he just goes along with it

what you gotta tell him though is to keep it lowkey with keeping his jazzy outfits on

a hoodie cuddles better than high fashion and spiked jackets

plus he looks adorably small in it so two birds with one stone

never forget ten is really tiny that sure makes a difference

reluctant little spoon, he keeps it face-to-face or sleeps on his back

ten is glad to be approached with hugs he’s not always doing the initiative

shy thailand angel ikr

but don’t complain if he farts because he absolutely will

goddammit chittaphon

kai

if it’s without a plushie something’s going wrong it always needs one

his favorite teddy’s gotta participate y’know he’s a social creature

in this home we don’t discriminate against plush bears

and yeah, his bear ear hoodie likewise he is sure to put it on

jongin tends to be rather taciturn because he wants to enjoy the body-to-body sensations

meaning, don’t interpret his frequent silence as awkwardness he’s just observing

is not above teasing… if his outfit is showing some skin he’ll invite you to touch the area

also enjoys you putting your hands under his sweater

he’s laughing like crazy and kicking his legs all giggly if you put your head underneath it and let it roam oh la la

yeah nini likes some wit to it for sure, and some steaminess in the mix it’s just a natural byproduct if we’re honest

dim the lights down low for this one…

but also light the candles alright

cuddling is more of a soft and steady thing there’s not much position changes going on

this is the couch not the dancefloor your honor

while we’re talking about that: jongin is a buff biatch my god

prep a water bottle to chug when you’re cuddling this guy is effortlessly hot

also know that kai will almost definitely snap a picture of you huddled together for the memory of it

baekhyun

unlike his memes, baekhyun’s cuddling behaviour is entirely predictable

will snuggle against your shoulder by default pretty much that’s his favorite area

stays glued there for two hours if you’re not busy

im not kidding

needless to say he needs a partner who can handle this level of clinginess

baekhyun can’t keep his hands to himself in general

neither can you

it’s groping x cuddling these two are a dead sure combination

keen to snuggle casually while he’s gaming, cross-legged on the ground with you massaging his back

likes to lay his head into your lap, too.

baekhug i mean back hug enthusiast. something inside his face has an inbuilt magnet that sucks him into the space between your collar bones

especially when you’re at the stove cooking

caution: love bites. lots of them. does this count as cuddles? probably. it’s not like he’s eating you or is he. oop—

what am i saying all he does is nibble alright

and oh yeah bring on the sweater weather. he can’t stay still in bed it’s gonna be a pillowfort building session though

you gotta exhaust him until he naps off lmao!

energizer bunny bf

mark

enjoys being fed watermelon during the process how else could it be

wait until this guy hears what harry styles’ watermelon sugar is all about his world will never be the same again

anyway

he’ll look so cute in his striped shirt and his round glasses awh

cuddling is his favorite way to show his trust and affection before all else

his favorite time to cuddle is before going to sleep

he usually hugs pillows so you can tell how clingy he winds up as

mark really sleeps and dreams better if you do that it has an astounding effect. cuddles are his perfect recharging if you will it’s just that he’s actually calming down through it whereas he can be nervous throughout the day so he needs that downtime

spooning is a given

what he enjoys the most about it is the warmth

markie easily gets cold sometimes he just needs that tune-up with you he’s like blink blink there goes my dose of daily heat beep beep

what the fuck

anyway again

talk about tune

just like ten he’s very talkative all the way verbal stimulation and mark lee just go together

if you compare him to taeyong there’s not much of a transformation going on mark lee on two legs is the same mark lee during cuddles it’s all copy paste

all in all a delectable experience, extremely cute and heart-melting, super m truly has a super mark

taemin

much like xuxi he has that permanent smile on his lips that tries to make you laugh

in fact taemin is hard to stop with his puns and his humor

ffs he is a true brat

taems can’t help but try to escalate this into a playfight every time

not that he doesn’t enjoy the calmer types of cuddling but he needs some action in the sack

enjoys praise along the way who are we kidding

the clothes you both cuddle in are very important alright, the fabric in particular

taemin keeps it expensive here it’s just the way he rolls

satin my dear

it’s just so satisfying to the touch

but also beware of his most lethal clothing choice which brings out his innate maknae charm the most

THE FLUFFY TURTLENECK

gyeahh

which he will use during special occasions to turn you into a cuddle monster ready to pounce him

give it up for shinee my loves they taught him well and sent him out to fluff up the world

what else is there okay we also gotta mention that cuddling consists of many little kisses here and there

taemin wants to get absolutely peppered

he is and stays a prince

lucas

ideal body type for cuddling except that it needs the right place, not the environment but the spot i mean, you can imagine

lucas can explode any smol-size couch or bed

don’t even think about trying to cuddle on regular chairs my god why would you live so dangerously

king size por favor

there is a lot to cuddle against it’s really a whole wonderland

those big ole thighs are practical cushions for anything really.

and his face is just so amicable it has to be kithed

his hands… his hands! you will feel maximum protection with those giant baby fingers around your hips i’m telling you

admittedly yukhei is hard to properly hug around the shoulders obviously that’s a drawback but hey his waist is lithe and tiny so hello there, very inviting

oh, that infectious smile.

serious cuddling: 0 — funny cuddles: over 9,000

and tasty cuddles because foodcas brings some fried rice every time oh yum

hates to go to work he really prioritizes you and cuddles go on for long long hours especially when you watch your favorite series

xuxi goes the extra mile, he will touch your hair a lot, just gently combing through it

and he doesn’t mind it when you do the same, he’s got the most angelic blonde locks after all

lu calls you beautiful all the time the cheesy mf is really pulling the standard compliment alright

cue jonas brothers sucker for you

ugh, boyfriend

mlist

#super m #superm #superm hc #superm scenarios #super m x reader #superm fluff #super m imagines #kai #lucas #baekhyun #taemin #taeyong #mark #ten

352 notes · View notes

host-club-hq · 3 years

Text

Call of the Scar pt. 2

➼ pairing: harry potter x reader

➼ genre: sfw, fluffy, fantasy

➼ word-count: 2.9k

➼ summary: Harry Potter and Y/N Weasley embark on their great journey together in their fourth year at Hogwarts. What does this unsuspecting year hold for them this time?

➼ part 2 of many :)

➼ want to request? do it here. let me know what i can write for you :)

➼ talk to the characters!

The campsite is a ruin now, drifting in smoke. A child appears, tear-streaked, wailing for his mother. Harry is still lying upon the ground. His eyelids flutter...

A figure strides through the teeming smoke like a ghost. The man pauses, surveys the devastation before him, and lifts his wand into the sky.

"MORESMORDRE!"

A peal of thunder shakes the earth and an eerie green blooms in the sky. Harry squints painfully, gripping his scar and peers up. A colossal skull of emerald stars erupts in the sky, a serpent coiling from its mouth. A shriek pierces the night and Harry's eyes shift, finding the motherless boy a few yards away, howling in terror at the sky.

Harry looks back, toward the man in the distance, and sees he's coming forward. The shrieking boy turns and darts away. Harry's fingers reach for his wand, eyes squinting through the smoke, trying to see the approaching man's face, but all is still a blur, the smoke like black fog, the man a wavering wraith as he draws closer and closer...

"Harry!"

Harry's heart unclenches at your voice and he audibly sighs in relief. Hermione, Ron, and you- tiny dots- race across the campsite. The man stops, looks, then withdraws into the smoke and vanishes.

"Harry!" you call again.

"Thought we'd lost you, mate. And then..." Ron nods nervously to the sky.

"What is that?" Harry follows his eyes to the monstrous thing in the sky.

"Don't you know...?" Hermione asks, confused.

Just then, a popping fills the air and- one after another- ten ministry wizards apparate into view, wands poised.

"DUCK!" Harry exclaims, and the group does as told.

"STUPEFY!"

As they hit the ground, ten jets of fiery red light electrify the air inches above their heads.

"Stop! Those are my children!" Arthur dashes to the rescue.

"Are you lot alright?" Arthur breathes hurriedly.

"Which one of you conjured it?"

Harry and the others turn and watch Barty Crouch- a stiff man with a toothbrush mustache and steely eyes- emerge through the haze.

"Mr. Crouch, you can't possibly-"

"Do not lie! You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!" Crouch points his wand shakily to all of the teens, alternating between each one.

"Crime?" Harry states incredulously.

Crouch wheels, pointing his wand directly at Harry, eyes glittering lethally when... he notices Harry's scar.

"Barty. They're just kids." Amos interjects. Harry watches Crouch blink. You side-step in front of Harry and draw him close to you. Crouch lowers his wand.

"What crime?" Harry speaks again.

You turns to him and nod at the sky. "That... it's the Dark Mark, Harry. It's... his mark." you whisper carefully.

"Voldemort?" Harry questions. You shush him. "You can't keep saying that..." you remind.

A disturbed murmur ripples through the wizards at Harry's utterance of the name. Ron looks particularly pained.

"Why do you always have to do that?" He sighs.

"Those people tonight- in the masks- they're his too, aren't they? His followers."

"Death Eaters." Arthur confirms solemnly.

Harry considers his, then gazes back down the beach, toward the spot where the mysterious figure appeared.

"There was someone before. A man. There." Harry points. Everyone turns to look.

"A man? Who, Harry?" you eye him carefully.

"Dunno. One minute he was there, then... not. I never saw his face. Could've been anybody..." Harry is beginning to realize that his witness is of no value without any facial recognition.

Harry glances upwards, clinging to the sky like a stain is the Dark Mark.

Hogwart’s Express

Students hang out of compartment doors, talking and laughing while an old woman pushes a candy trolley up to Harry, Ron, yours, and Hermione's compartment.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" The trolley witch asks, out of breath.

Harry and Ron leap up, while you and Hermione continue to read the Daily Prophet. There's a photograph of the Dark Mark, a headline screams: "TERROR AT THE WORLD CUP."

"I'll have a pack of Droobles. And a licorice wand and..." Ron digs into his pocket and frowns. "On second though, just the Droobles."

"S'alright, I'll get it-"

"Just the Droobles." Ron firmly interjects for Harry.

Ron takes his gum and quickly ducks back into the compartment. Harry frowns, feeling guilty, when a sweet voice sounds.

"One Pumpkin Pastie, please."

Harry turns and finds a very pretty dark-haired girl standing by the cart. Sensing Harry's gaze, she looks up and smiles. Taking her treat, she heads off.

"Something sweet for you, dear?" The trolley witch leans to speak to Harry. He looks down at her.

"Huh? Oh. No. I'm not... hungry." He decides. Harry watches Cho's lithe figure retreat, watching until she slips into a compartment and is gone.

"Head out of the clouds, Potter." you call from inside the compartment as the trolley witch moves to the rest of the train. Harry diverts his attention to you, seeing you haven’t even lifted your head from the Daily Prophet. He rolls his eyes.

"This is bad. Very bad..."

Harry turns and sees Hermione shaking her head darkly behind the Prophet's screaming front page. Harry considers the image of the Dark Mark and accompanying article: "DARK MARK STIRS OLD FEARS (First Sighting in Thirteen Years)," then eyes the photo of the article's author, Rita Skeeter. Hermione snaps the paper shut and stares at him.

"It's hurting again, isn't it? It was hurting that morning too. The day of the World Cup?" your gaze is gentle and concerned, but Harry doesn't reciprocate. Ron, full of gum, stops chewing, eyeing Harry with trepidation.

"I'm fine." Harry snaps. Your hand withdraws from his shoulder without a word. Hermione's eyebrows furrow and her eyes briefly flicker from you to Harry with distain.

"Suit yourself. But at least tell him. You know he'd want you to." Hermione eyes Harry with determination. He sighs.

"DEAR SIRIUS"...

Harry rolls up the parchment, fixes it to Hedwig's leg, and lets her fly free of his hands and through the open window.

Hedwig soars high, leaving the train behind as she knits her way across the sky. On the horizon, a castle appears.

The Hall glows magically, decked out for the start-of-term feast. Albus Dumbledore addresses the House Tables from the top of the Hall while Flitwick, Hagrid, McGonagall, and Snape look on. Filch flowers from the rear doors.

"Mr. Filch, our beloved caretaker, has informed me that the list of objects forbidden within the castle now includes Screaming Yo-Yos, Fanged Frisbees, Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, and Chocolate Marshmallow Bunnies." There is a mischievous beat before he continues. "I'm joking about that last one. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items and may be viewed in Mr. Filch's office." Dumbledore smiles.

"Mental. Always has been." Ron grumbles from where he sits at the Gryffindor table.

Harry grins and glances to the Ravenclaw table, seeing Cho grinning appreciatively at Dumbledore as well. You follow his gaze and smirk. "Catching feelings, are we?" you mumble just loudly enough for Harry to hear, who turns.

"What?" He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"The Chang girl. Pretty, isn't she?" you glance back at her. Harry suppresses a smile.

"Shut up." He pushes you.

"Not likely." you shrug.

"Now. There is, apparently, a rather nasty rumor flying about the school that Quidditch will not be played this year. That rumor, I'm here to tell you... is absolutely true." Dumbledore announces with suspense. Indignation fills the Hall. Dumbledore smiles in amusement.

"There is an explanation. You see, Hogwarts will this year play host to a legendary event. An event that has not taken place in over one hundred years... the Triwizard Tournament." Excitement hakes the Hall, one voice ringing clear:

"You're joking!" Fred exclaims. You put a hand over her face and peek from under it, watching as your classmates watch your brother make a fool of himself and hiding from under the palm of your hand.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley. For those of you know do not know, the Triwizard Tournament was originally conceived some seven centuries ago as a way for the three largest European wizardry schools to engage in a series of magical contests while their respective student bodies experienced the benefits of cross-cultural social intercourse."

A crackling, albeit bewildered, silence hangs in the air.

"In other words: One got to spend the entire year getting to know people who spoke a funny language. Unfortunately due to a distressing high death toll, the Tournament was cancelled..."

Hermione's brows knit together with dark concern.

"Then why the bloody hell are they bringing it back?" you lean over Hermione's shoulder to voice her concerns. Hermione leans back and reciprocates her expression. "You're asking the wrong person, Y/N." she sighs.

"... until now. Tomorrow, delegations from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magical Arts and the Durmstrang School of Wizardry will journey to Hogwarts. This year, our home will be their home. I ask only that you endeavor to make it a happy one."

Students- Harry, Ron, you, and Hermione among them- crowd the parapets, buzzing with anticipation. Far below, Dumbledore has assembled the staff as a kind of welcoming party.

Suddenly a rumble fills the sky and a team of winged Horses cleave the clouds, pulling a gigantic powder-blue carriage. Through one of the windows, a beautiful woman peers down. With an earth-shaking thud, the carriage lands.

Just then, great bubbles roil the glassy surface of the Black Lake and a long black mast pierces the water, rising higher and higher. A black ship rises out of a great rushing whirlpool of water, looking skeletal and ghostly in the half-light. A dark figure strides out onto the deck- tall, thin, ad sleek.

Students scramble into position and turn expectantly to Dumbledore, who stands before the staff. You notice a man near the back and nudge Harry. It's Barty Crouch.

"What's he doing here?" you ask in a low whisper. Harry shrug without a word and diverts his attention.

"Please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!" Dumbledore bellows.

Music begins- light and fanciful- and a woman in a diaphanous gown strides into the courtyard. She is beautiful. She is elegant. She is ten feet tall.

"Blimey. That's one big woman." Seamus stares shamelessly up at her.

Then, one by one, a procession of stunningly beautiful Beauxbatons girls enter in graceful synchronization. Clad in silky, skin-clinging robes, they make a decided impression on Ron- and every other boy present. You and Hermione are less persuaded.

"It's indecent to stare at women like that, idiot." you shove your elbow into Ron's and he grunts.

"Lay off, would you?" He sneers, earning your tongue sticking out at him in retaliation.

Suddenly, one after another, they pitch themselves forward and cartwheel to the top of the courtyard where, allayed in a circle, they wait for their last two members: Fleur Delacour, a particularly luminous girl, and her 8-year-old sister Gabrielle, who is her double. Vaulting side-by-side to the center of the circle, Fleur pulls out a silk scarf, dangles it from her fingertips, and 'spins' Gabrielle like a top.

The courtyard roars with approval. Hermione rolls her eyes and you take notices.

"Can you believe the lot of them?" you sigh. Hermione nods in agreement.

"You're just jealous you're not as pretty as them." Ron snickers. Your expression remains unfazed.

"You do remember I'm you're twin, Ronald?" you inform with a sheer, angered tone. Both Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, Ron's cheeks growing hot as the smile disappears from his face. You smirk to yourself.

"Madame Maxime. Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear." Dumbledore welcomes with a large smile.

"Ah, Dumble-dorr. You are well, yes?" A thick French accent is heavy laden over Madame Maxime's words.

"Blooming." Dumbledore ignores the fact that his name has just been mispronounced.

Madame Maxime steps away, passing Hagrid. His beard twitches. Suddenly, the thrum of balalaikas fills the courtyard.

"And now... our friends from the north! Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang!"

Igor Karkaroff- tall, sleek and arrogant- strides forth, trailed by a regiment of stoic Durmstrang boys in dark fur cloaks. A pair of sleek black panthers- eyes glittering like gold- pad sullenly at Karkaroff's side. As Karkaroff reaches the top of the courtyard, he glances about imperiously.

"Dear old Hogwarts. It's so..."

"Perfectly imperfect?" Dumbledore suggests. Karkaroff smiles and turns to Snape, who nods curtly.

"Igor." Snape acknowledges.

"Severus. Long time, no see. And Barty. I almost didn't recognize you. You look so... tired. Sleeping well these days?" Igor grins.

Crouch glowers. Karkaroff smiles, then snaps his fingers. A quartet of Durmstrang boys bring torches to their lips and spit dazzling comets of fire into the air. Enthusiastic applause from all.

"Oh my God! It's him!" Ron gasps and straightens.

Harry looks. At the end of the line, brooding behind his shadowed brow, is Victor Krum. Just then, Flitwick- striking his finest conductor's pose- lifts his arms before a ragtag band of students and a discordant tune fills the courtyard. Instantly, the Hogwarts students serenade their visitors with a glorious cacophony, then Hogwarts Anthem"

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts....

Teach us something please

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff

For now they're bare and full of air

Dead flies and bits of fluff."

Karkaroff raises an eyebrow.. Maxime struggles to hold a smile. Dumbledore beams.

"We just might have the worst school anthem ever written." you groan as she cover your face with your hands while the school continues to sing the horrid song.

"I never will understand who wrote it and why." Harry sighs in exasperation.

"Dead flies and bits of fluff? Why in Merlin's name is that necessary?" you scoff. Harry chuckles.

"Maybe if they're talking about you." Harry mutters. You gasp and turn to him.

"How dare you? My grades are better than yours have ever been." you whack Harry on his upper arm and he scowls at you.

"Not better than Hermione's." Harry reminds with a smug expression to which you roll your eyes.

"Hermione is inhuman, no one can have the grades that she has." you inform. Harry considers this a moment and nods.

"You're right." He sighs.

"So we bid you truly welcome

You are a funny lot

But any guests of Hogwarts

Can't be all rot!"

You snicker to yourself at the last few words and Harry nudges you, struggling to suppress a smile himself.

"It's not funny." Harry's lips twitch upwards as he wags a scolding finger at you as you laugh.

"It's a little funny. Can't be all rot?" you snort and induce laughter within Harry, who covers his own mouth in attempts to keep from disturbing the welcome. "Stop it." He pleads and shoves your shoulder with his own.

"Quiet, the both of you. There's nothing to laugh about." Hermione scoffs, which only results in harder laughter from the two of you. Hermione rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. "Honestly."

"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here." Dumbledore sighs as the song comes to an end- thankfully for the two students in stitches.

Everyone feasts. Bewitched by Madame Maxime, Hagrid stares down the tall table to where she sits... and absently spears Professor Flitwick's hand with his fork. Karkaroff eyes Crouch darkly, then turns and sees that Snape is watching him. Smiling thinly, Karkaroff tips his goblet.

Harry eyes the Ravenclaw table, where the Beauxbaton girls sit and Fleur converses with Cho. Ron stuffs his face and stares at Krum, who sits with the Slytherins.

"Brilliant, isn't he?" Ron speaks up as he chews slowly, in a trance.

"He's eating." you smack your brother's shoulder and push his face to look at something other than Krum.

"Why d'you suppose they've been put at the Slytherin table?" Harry's eyebrows furrow as he peeks over at Durmstrang every now and then.

"Birds of a feather. Durmstrang puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts." Hermione takes a bite of her meal as she informs the group.

Hearing this, Harry's eyes shift, considering Karkaroff.

"Wishing it was you over there instead of Krum, are you?" Ron suddenly pipes up. Harry turns to see who he's talking to- and it's surprisingly his own sister.

"Ronald, what in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Hermione sets down her fork and leans forward to glance at Ron incredulously.

"What? Everyone knows Malfoy's got a thing for her. As much as I hate to admit it. That guy's the worst." Ron grumbles. You scoff in disbelief. You turn to look at the Slytherin table and then quickly back to your brother.

"Now what would provoke you to say such a thing?" you laugh humorlessly. Harry looks to Ron expectantly.

"Malfoy's a git to all of us." He reminds. Ron sighs.

"Especially to Y/N- don't you see it?" Ron looks around expectantly. Everyone looks at him with vacant expressions and he groans.

"Everyone knows the boys who tease the girls the most fancy them." Ron states like it's obvious and everyone around him is an idiot.

"That's like saying Malfoy's got a thing for Harry. Harry, do you think Malfoy has a thing for you?" you glance over at Harry and stare at him.

"What? No. That's... weird." Harry shivers to even think about that. "I'd prefer you never mention that again." He requests. You ignore him a moment.

"Besides, Ron. I'm related to you. Of course he hates me." you snort as you return to your meal. Ron shrugs without another word.

27 notes · View notes

chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

pirate king (34) || atz

Eleuthera is beautiful.

A long island with sparkling white and pink sand and crystal clear waters, it’s a bustling coastal town with lively, chattering people at every turn. From each corner of the street, there are colourful stalls with an exotic array of different wares and on the sea breeze you catch the smell of myrrh and frankincense.

“So what are we going to do today?” Yunho asks, as he glances around the town, excited to explore. Hongjoong has already informed the crew of the reason you have come to Eleuthera, but it seems that they are treating it more of a vacation instead.

Your captain frowns as he gazes over the town. “I don’t know how you’re going to find that green eyed man from your dreams, but we could always take this time to explore slowly. Everyone, let’s divide into groups and have some free and easy.”

“Let’s go herb exploring!” San grins enthusiastically, taking your hand and swinging it up and down. The excitement must come from the novelty of being in a completely new place because your master is literally bouncing up and down like a hyperactive bunny, overflowing with energy. “I’m sure there’s a lot of interesting things for us to see here!”

You smile at your master, about to agree, but then someone cuts in abruptly.

“She’ll come with me.”

You stare at him in shock.

Of all the people you had thought would say that, it had been the person you expected least. Everyone else seems to think so too, because they all turn around to stare at him in surprise as well.

Mingi looks at all of you determinedly, his deep brown eyes unwavering. There’s still a fresh purple bruise on his jaw from where Jongho had hit him a few days ago on accident so it’s a little hard to take him seriously, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to take a no for an answer.

It’s strange, though. You and the quartermaster have never had much reason to speak to each other, and even though you’ve seen him afraid of bugs and the like to the point his massive height is not actually intimidating to you anymore, you know that the last time you spoke, he was furious with you for getting the crew into serious danger.

In fact, part of you is still kind of afraid of him.

“Uhh-”

“Don’t forget, you still owe me for breaking my nose the last time.” The quartermaster reminds you and you pause with your mouth open in a feeble attempt of a protest, but what he’s saying is true, after all...

Hongjoong turns to his oldest friend, a little confused. “Mingi, what are you-”

“Then it’s settled.” Mingi declares, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you with him. San yelps as you’re tugged away from him but doesn’t do anything, instead pouting and clinging to Yeosang who looks just as confused as you are. “We’ll be back to the ship by sunset.”

“Help!” You mouth to the navigator, who simply flails his arms around desperately in a clear sign of ‘I don’t know what to do either!’ You can only watch their forms getting smaller and smaller as the quartermaster pulls you with him away from the rest of the crew.

He leads you down a set of alleyways and you take in the vibrantly coloured mosaic walls, the beautiful geometric patterns and the brightly stained windows that you’ve never seen before. This place seems to be one full of happiness and relaxation, the sounds of a flute and fiddle drifting down the street attempting to draw you into its melody, but you still can’t stop the anxious thumping in your heart.

Why does Mingi want with you?

To your surprise, you and Mingi break free of the town, leaving civilisation behind as he leads you to a stretch of beach. It’s the most beautiful beach you’ve ever seen, actually, with pastel pink sands and jewel-like aquamarine waters, but what makes you panic a little is how secluded it is.

“You’re not going to kill me and hide my body, are you, Mingi-hyung?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them and you clap a hand over your face in horror. Mingi stops in front of you abruptly and you go crashing into his shoulder, bruising your nose, but he doesn’t turn back to look at you.

There’s silence.

You gulp nervously when you see his jaw clench. Did you make Mingi angry?

Then he turns around with a pout.

“Am I really that scary to you?”

You stare at his face for a short moment in shock, eyeing his pout with something between incredulity and sheer horror. You’ve seen Mingi angry, you’ve seen him in a battle fueled rage, you’ve seen him smile when Captain is smiling and you’ve seen him screaming for his life, but a pout?

A shiver runs up your spine at such a foreign expression on his face.

“I must be, huh…” The quartermaster grumbles unhappily under his breath as he shakes his head. Then he pinches his cheeks with his fingers, twisting the skin there before he turns to face you again with some distorted growl on his face.

You nearly scream with shock.

“How do I look now?” He asks you, his deep voice muffled because of the strange shape his mouth is in. It takes you a long moment, but you eventually realise he’s trying to pull his lips into a smile.

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry at his efforts.

“You look… like you’re smiling.” You manage to lie through your teeth and finally Mingi gives you an actual smile that is miles better than his terrible attempt, a gummy one that shows off all his teeth and actually makes something in you soften a little. But soon it slides off his face into a more serious look and he sits down on the sand, patting the ground next to him.

“Sit down for a moment.”

You’re a little surprised at his abrupt change of attitude but still do as he says. The sight from here is surreal, the orange rays of the setting sun making the water sparkle like a sea of emeralds, turning the sand a luminescent pink-orange, as if they’re fresh coals from a burning fire.

You stay quiet for a moment, taking in the view, a little lost in how beautiful this place is.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Mingi begins and you turn to glance at him, a little curious. Why would the quartermaster want to speak to you now, of all times?

“Alright.” You nod hesitantly, and Mingi begins to speak.

“I apologise for my behaviour back then.” Your eyes widen in confusion at why he would say such a thing. Mingi has never done you any wrong, not in the whole time you’ve been on board this ship. Seeing your stunned expression, he quickly explains.

“Back then, when Yeosang got shot and Captain got whipped… I blamed you.”

Ahh, so that’s what he wanted to talk to you about. But part of you still doesn’t understand why he would be apologising to you.

“But you didn’t do anything to me.” You tell him, frowning a little. Unless he pulled a Hongjoong and threw something of yours away in secret, you can’t think of anything he could have done to you. Then you touch the necklace under your shirt carefully, suddenly irrationally afraid he might have done just that.

Mingi shakes his head. “No, I didn’t, but my attitude was wrong. I should have tried to understand, at the very least, even if I was worried about Hongjoongie-hyung. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.”

Once again, you’re stunned by how kind this crew can be. It’s true you’ve never spoken much to Mingi before, so you don’t know him very well, but you don’t think anyone would actually apologise for having wrong attitude.

“Of course.” Is all you manage to say. Mingi exhales in relief at that, as if a massive weight has just been lifted from his chest. You smile a little at him, realising that maybe under that tough looking exterior, Mingi is as soft as San’s plushies underneath.

“You’re really loyal to Captain, aren’t you?” You say softly under your breath, but Mingi hears anyway and nods without a second’s hesitation.

“We’ve been together since the beginning, even before he became the Captain of the Treasure. In a way, he saved my life before.” The quartermaster tells you and your eyes widen slightly.

“Really? How?”

“Before Hongjoong took over the Treasure, it was called the Arrow. It was captained by my uncle, who was working under the Royal Navy. Because Hongjoong-hyung has the blessing of a sea god on him, he was tied to our mast as a charm to ward away storms.” Mingi explains softly and your jaw drops, turning to stare at him. Your captain was tied up to a ship as a child?

“I was the cabin boy to my uncle at that time, so I brought him food and water.” Mingi reminisces the times of years ago, when Hongjoong was still a young boy, struggling to survive each day alone with his own strength. “He never stopped smiling, not even once, no matter how badly my uncle mistreated him or called him a sea monster in human’s skin. I remembered I was so stunned by how a person could continue to burn so bright that even the worst of storms couldn’t put him out.”

You know what he’s talking about. From the first time you met the captain, you’ve seen that fire blazing in his eyes, never giving up, never surrendering, never bowing to fate.

“Then one day, I think he snapped after seeing my uncle torture an errant ship mate. They keelhauled him to death and Hongjoong-hyung was never the same since.” Mingi murmurs softly and you frown, a little confused.

“Keelhauled?” You repeat after him and Mingi nods grimly.

“The act of tying a person to a rope and throwing him over the side of the ship, before pulling him against the barnacles of the heel. The person is usually torn to shreds because of this.” The quartermaster tells you and you can’t help but shiver at the description of such inhumane torture.

“Then there was a massive storm at sea. More than half the crew perished, so my uncle begged him to save them. He had mercy on them and piloted the ship safely out of the storm, but then demanded my uncle give the ship to him in payment for their lives. My uncle agreed… and here we are.”

You’re in shock after listening to that story. You weren’t aware that your captain had been through so many hardships before becoming the Pirate King of the Seven Seas. But there’s another question you feel like you need to ask.

“But… you all don’t really seem like bloodthirsty pirates, though.” You say hesitantly. “Why is Captain called the Pirate King? Why are so many people afraid of him?”

Mingi pauses in rocking back and forth absentmindedly, staring at the way the sun is dipping behind the waves. The sea and sand are red now with the light of the setting sun, making the place look like the remains of a battlefield, the water before you like a sea of blood.

“Before you knew us… Captain really wasn’t a nice person, you know?” Mingi says softly, lying back on the sand to look at the darkening sky. You pause, a little stunned. “I’m not going to sugar coat it. He may have been nice to those he considered his crew… but to anyone else? Those who met him never lived to tell the tale.”

You’re shocked. Your captain, Kim Hongjoong, the one who endured a whipping for you and the crew, the one who had promised Seonghwa to stay by him no matter the trouble, the one who had gone red just from a hug… had been such a cruel man?

“Wooyoung too, actually.” Mingi murmurs, shaking his head. You flinch at the name of the man who’d given you the pin you’re wearing in your hair. “He was a dangerous, dangerous man, to the point even I was afraid of him. Maybe you haven’t had a chance to see him when he’s in one of his… moods, but then again I pray you never have to see them.”

“But-” You try to argue, completely unable to see Hongjoong and Wooyoung as anything but your kind captain and mischievous partner in crime. Mingi cuts you off before you can say anymore.

“It’s not my story to tell. Anyway… I think they’ve been getting better, you know?” The quartermaster tells you quietly, just as the sun finally sinks beneath the waves. The sky is still lit by a little reddish glow, but you’re sure that will fade soon too.

You bite your lower lip, still desperate to know what exactly Wooyoung and your Captain could be hiding behind their usual smiles, but then Mingi gets up, stretching his arms above his head.

“Anyway, Chin Hae, we should be getting back to the ship.” The quartermaster holds out a hand to help you off the ground and you take it, pulling yourself to your feet and dusting off the sand from your knees. You guess your many unanswered questions will have to wait until another day then.

The two of you walk back in companionable silence to the small town, stepping onto the brick lain ground once more. It’s a little late now, which explains the different air to the area, there are people in the streets dancing with each other with big smiles on their faces to several busking performances here and there, and the atmosphere makes you smile as well.

Until someone bumps into you.

“Ouch!” You say, turning around to see a young boy dressed in rags and barefoot. He’s skinny, probably a little malnourished, and he’s holding a small basket in hands filled with folded slips of paper.

You don’t know how your eyes immediately find him in the crowd, but you do. And you gasp in shock.

He grins brightly at you. “A treasure map for you, miss?”

Because his eyes are swirling with colours once again, blue, grey, brown, every shade in the world you can think of, except one that you just can’t help but feel like you’re missing. Just like that old man from before…

You force the thought away. This is no time to be thinking about that. Mingi frowns when he realises you’re no longer at his side and turns around to look for you.

“Chin Hae?”

“How much is one?” You ask, bending down to look at the young boy, trying not to show how much his eyes unnerve you yet trying to figure out exactly what colour his eyes are. The boy smiles in a way that only reminds you of your master, pure, innocent and utterly joyful.

“One silver!” He says and you reach into your pocket to pull out the coin.

But then the boy suddenly swipes the hairpin from your hair and makes a break for it, nimbly streaking past the partygoers and disappearing down a secluded alleyway, much to your horror.

“Hey!” You shout, completely forgetting about getting back to the ship and you dash after him, your feet flying over the cobbles. Mingi starts in surprise when he sees you tearing in the opposite direction you had been going and calls your name.

“Chin Hae! Chin Hae, where you going?”

You don’t hear him over the sound of the guitar and singing. Instead, you focus on catching that damned street urchin in front of you, because you’d rather die a thousand times than lose the hairpin Wooyoung gave to you.

Happy Birthday, Chin Hae-ah.

You can’t lose that. No way in hell. You press on, chasing him out of town until your boots crunch against soft, dry sand and you’re pushing through a grove of trees, past the beach you had been to earlier with Mingi and even further beyond that.

You finally lose the boy when you stumble onto a small, craggy beach. The waves crash against the rocks at the shoreline, breaking the waves and turning the water white with seafoam, but you can’t be distracted by the beauty of the place now. You glance around, desperately trying to search for the boy who had stolen from you.

The beach is utterly empty except for you.

“Are you looking for me?”

You whirl around in shock, heart pounding in your chest to see the little boy from earlier standing there at the treeline. Somehow, you hadn’t even noticed him as you ran past him onto the beach. You flare up in anger at the calm, unruffled smile on his face, your hairpin in his hand and the basket of papers in the other.

“What are you trying to do, kid? Stealing from me? Seriously?” You spit, starting to march over to get your hairpin back, but his next words stun you right in your tracks.

“It’s the only way I could get us alone. This hairpin is precious to you, isn’t it?”

“What?” You aren’t quite sure if you heard him correctly, because if this kid had just told you he had stolen from you so you could be alone together, there must be something seriously wrong with him. Then fear wells up in you. Is he going to murder you and hide your body in the sand?

To your shock and anger, the little boy starts laughing, first with a hand over his mouth, then full belly laughs erupt deep from within. You don’t know why he’s laughing, but you don’t like it and your lips pull back into a snarl, your fingers twitching for the handle of your cutlass.

“Give my hairpin back and I might not be tempted to kill you.” You snap, but the boy, even though he’s unarmed, merely wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes with a hand before he looks at you once more.

“Well, I’m sorry for making you come all the way here, but I just wanted to be here with you again. It’s been so long, after all, since we were alone together.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

What?

“Wait… Wait…” You stumble over your words, not quite able to process his statement. Everything is whirling past you now, questions and words flooding your mind until you shut them up fiercely, forcing yourself to ask only one question at a time. “First of all, what do you mean by you made me come all the way here? As far as I know, an old man with weird eyes running a bookshop in Havana gave it to me…”

And then you trail off, because this young boy has the exact same eyes as that old man, various tones and tints flickering behind his serene gaze, never quite staying the same for long as if it cannot decide what colour to choose from. It hits you as hard as a battering ram, the air escaping from your lungs in a gasp.

“You’re… you’re in cahoots with that old man?” You breathe, but the little boy shakes his head with an amused smile.

“Yes and no.” He answers vaguely and for some reason, you feel like you aren’t going to get anymore answers from him about this. For a moment, you briefly wonder if you’re going crazy.

“Alright.” You mutter to yourself, wracking your mind desperately as you try to come up with answers. “How about you tell me why the hell you wanted us to be alone together?”

Then the boy meets your gaze calmly, and your eyes fly wide in shock.

Because his eyes are green.

You don’t know how to describe the exact shade they are. Green as fresh leaves in the spring, when the flowers begin to bloom and the sun kisses the earth with its gentle rays. Green as the moss that creeps over the trees in the cool air of morning, even before light touches it with wandering fingers. Green as emeralds forged deep within the heart of the earth. Green as the shoots of hope breaking out from the ashes of destruction.

Green as the eyes in your dreams.

What he is comes to your mind like an old, forgotten memory.

“******.”

But the word comes out as a muffled, unspeakable cry and your hand flies over your mouth. You had tried to speak his identity with your clumsy, human tongue, a word of so much power and majesty that no living mortal in this world would be able to say physically. Already, just from knowing it in your mind, you can feel a painful throbbing in your skull at how unworthy you are to stand in his presence, how insignificant you are compared to something like him, how powerless you are before him.

You crumple to your knees in the sand, the word echoing over and over in your head as if it’s taunting you with your inability to say it out loud. But you know it, you want to cry out so desperately, you want to call his name and return to his embrace where you belong, back to him.

Flashes of colour slam into your mind.

“Oh dear.” The boy shakes his head as he steps towards you. “It seems as if my presence here is bringing up memories in you that you can’t remember just yet.”

His fingers brush your temple and suddenly the painful pressure on your mind easens slightly, you hunch over on the beach, shaking from the agony you were experiencing just seconds ago. You’re gasping and panting from the pain of it, and suddenly, you can’t remember his name anymore.

Terror floods through you. Did he just-

“Ahh… I thought this island was small enough so my presence wouldn’t affect you too much, but I was wrong.” He steps back from you, but his voice is a little sad. “I’d better leave fast.”

Your eyes fly open, desperate to catch one last glimpse of his face, except that there is none.

His features shift and blend together and he now stands before you as a young man about your age. You can’t make out his face, every time you catch a glimpse of his nose or jaw it changes and the memory flees your mind. It’s terrifying, losing your memories the moment you make them. You desperately try to grab them, but they escape like smoke through your clenched fists.

“You were right, they didn’t understand and think that you’re trapped.” His green eyes are the only thing that you can keep your focus on. “They’ll try to bring you back to them at any cost, even if it ends in death.”

The word scares you like none other. Who doesn’t understand?

“But I’m glad you have a name now, Chin Hae. I told you, didn’t I? That I believed that you could make the right choices? Everything is working out according to plan.”

Shivers run across your entire body as something pounds desperately in your mind, screaming at you to remember. You’re terrified. What plan is he talking about? According to plan? What plan?

“I hope you’ll manage to see the witch. You’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer.”

His words are starting to swirl together in your mind and you collapse onto your back, spasming involuntarily. Every part of your body is haywire, every thought running through your mind crashing here and there and you don’t know what to think anymore.

“Don’t forget, I’m with you every step of the way.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, before he stands and walks away from you to the treeline.

“Don’t go!” You want to scream, but you can’t move a muscle. The desire in you is so strong, so overwhelming that it swamps every other thought in you, the yearning taking over your body, so painful that it’s almost physical. Suddenly, there’s a tug in your gut and a rushing sound comes from behind you, from the ocean.

You close your eyes tight against the sea wave as it rushes inland.

A massive wave of seawater sweeps over you towards the man walking away, as if attempting to hold him back for you, but he simply turns to face the incoming tidal wave with a fond grin, completely devoid of fear.

Then he gives you one last smile, green eyes shining, and by the time he vanishes into the shadows of the trees, you’ve already forgotten his face. The waves pull away, slowly, regretfully as you lie there in the wet sand in shock, staring at the night sky above you.

“Chin Hae!”

Stars glittering like diamonds in the inky black sky.

Your heart stops for a moment.

White sand stretches before you, the roar of the ocean waves crashing on the rocks filling your ears.

Your eyes glance around you urgently, salt in your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat when you finally realise where you are.

It’s the beach from your dreams.

“Chin Hae! Chin Hae! Are you alright?” Suddenly Mingi fills your vision as he supports you with strong arms, one finger coming up to your face as his eyes widen with horror. “Your nose is bleeding…”

You aren’t exactly in the right state of mind to answer him.

Mingi wipes it away, before glancing at you in a panic. “Chin Hae, what happened? Why did you suddenly run off like that?”

“Someone stole my hairpin…” You finally manage to croak out weakly, but that seems to pale in comparison with the sheer magnitude of what has just happened. Then you remember why exactly you had been so desperately chasing after that boy, how you had come to this place. “My hairpin!”

You force yourself up into a sitting position in spite of the exhaustion and the way every inch of your body screams in protest, only for your mouth to fall open in shock at what you see.

The wave from earlier must have destroyed everything, every tree on the beach has been violently felled, smaller patches vegetation like grass have been clean swept away. The trees have been smashed to driftwood, tiny broken pieces littered here and there. It looks like the disaster site of a tsunami, although how it happened, you have no idea.

How did you even survive?

Mingi helps you up as you attempt to stand on shaky, feeble legs, stumbling towards where the man had disappeared. Like a single silver flower blooming on the beach, you see your hairpin stuck upright in the sand, right where you had last seen him, surrounded by wreckage. You kneel before it, picking up the hairpin with trembling fingers and clutching it to your chest fiercely, tears of relief sliding down your cheeks.

But then you realise there’s something stuck to it.

You hold it out in confusion to see one of the little boy’s treasure maps pinned to it. You stretch a hand out, brushing your fingers along it in shock.

It’s dry.

Your mind finally gives up on trying to make sense of everything and you crash to the ground, exhausted beyond imagination. You can hear Mingi flapping around in the background, clearly in a panic, but you don’t have an ounce of strength to reassure him that you’re not dead.

Your eyes slide shut.

Just for a bit.

You’re back at the beach again, but this time the stars are a little brighter, the water a little more crystalline, the sand smooth and pearly under your fingertips. The man with the green eyes is still standing before you with the knife in hand once more, the sharp tip pressed against your chest.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.” He vows.

The blade sinks into your chest.

But there is no pain, no blood. Your skin and flesh merely comes apart cleanly, the clay vessel built for you is in no way powerful enough, even if it was built by the sea witch and infused with as much magic as a physical item can hold.

He opens up the empty cavern that is your chest, and puts down the knife. You look down at it, a poor substitute for a human body, but then he raises up something in his hands.

A heart of clay.

You blink at him in surprise. “What is this?”

“I can’t complete your trial for you, but I can give you this.” He places it in your chest gently, before pressing both hand over the gaping hole. You feel the clay mending itself back together, the hole in your chest closing.

You stare at him for a long, silent moment.

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You gasp and air rushes into your lungs for the first time in your existence, you feel the wind on your cheeks and the smooth clay of your body turning into warm skin and flesh, you can feel the blood rushing in your veins. There was powerful, powerful magic in that heart that now resides in your chest, pumping blood through your body.

A sob tears itself from your chest.

“Thank you.” You whisper, feeling your breath escape you with each word. “Thank you so much.”

He merely smiles at you fondly, reaching up to brush your hair from your face. “It’s only temporal, so you need to do this fast, alright? If not…”

Suddenly his voice fades in and out, here but not quite, sounding from all around you.

You want to take his hand and ask him what exactly will happen, but then the dream vanishes into thin air, leaving nothing but white noise behind.

“...Y** *i** *et*** *o **a*.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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godkilller · 3 years

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@izzabizz139

I wanna hear you rant about the Gin vs Hitsugaya anime fight bc I love seeing your pov and you clearly write better than whoever extended that scene :) pretty please

out of character. DON’T ENABLE ME SO MUCH !! No but I cackled when I first saw this ask because oh my god, clearly you saw a taste of my annoyance about the anime adaptation -- no, adaptation implies it was accurate, I’ll say the anime’s take was “inspired by” the manga’s quick run-in. I’ll start by saying this moment is supposed to be a bit important considering, via the audience’s point of view, THIS IS THE FIRST WE SEE OF TWO CAPTAIN-RANKED SHINIGAMI CLASHING. The only other captain-involved fight we’ve seen thus far in the manga is Kenpachi ( who is an outlier and should not be counted... no, I joke... but, still, Ichigo was not an equal to him, his sword was sliced through like butter. ) The whole reason I enjoyed this encounter between Toshiro and Gin was simply this; it wasn’t some fancy multi-chaptered fight. IN THE MANGA, THERE ARE ONLY TWO BLOWS MADE. One, by Toshiro, to begin the fight. The second, to end it, is Gin’s strike.

I want you to know that I’ve rewatched this specifically to answer this ask, and only due to this, as I wouldn’t have ever sought it out otherwise. HONOR MY SACRIFICE.