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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Lucky in Love

Pairing: poly!Dream Team x gn!reader

Summary: [Soulmate!AU] It’s one thing to meet your soulmate in a lottery, and another to have more than just one. But when you end up winning Dream’s Minecraft Manhunt raffle, you find your world turning upside down in ways you least expect.

Word Count: 9.9k

A/N: behold, my first commissioned story! this story has been altered from it’s original form so everyone can read it, but the majority of the plot and writing remain the same. i had a lot of fun writing it, and i hope you all like it! <3

You stumbled into your bedroom with a yelp, your thumb flying across your phone screen to the home button and pressing gently. With a gleam, the time flashed back at you, and your eyes shot wide open.

You were going to be late.

Leaning forward on one leg, you pushed the door behind you shut with your foot, bouncing forward as soon as you heard it click shut. Your eyes swept across the room, your gaze catching on a swath of black cloth sitting at the foot of your bed. With a quirk of your lips, you tugged the shirt off the mattress before turning on your heel. Darting to the other side of the room, you easily settled back into your desk chair and let the shirt drop onto your thighs.

Grabbing your mouse, you moved your cursor to the YouTube bookmark at the top of your screen, your computer screen instantaneously flooding with light. You scrolled over to the left side of your screen, your mouse hovering over a familiar green icon before clicking, a new box popping into view.

Stream starting in 60... 59... 58... 57...

You felt your lungs tighten within your rib cage, your toes curling ever so slightly into the floor. It had been a nerve-wracking month of waiting and pacing, crossing each day off the calendar with an anxious grin. You almost couldn’t believe that the day had finally arrived. Letting out one last breath, you leaned forward, the t-shirt feeling heavy in your lap.

3... 2... 1...

All of a sudden, the screen went dark. Your reflection stared back at you from the dim screen, your excited eyes peering back at yourself with a curious glint. Reaching up, you brush an unkempt lock of hair away from your forehead, just in time for two familiar faces and a lime green icon to appear.

The Dream Team.

“Hey, guys!” Dream said, his voice sounding like a breath of fresh air. “How are you all doing?”

A flurry of hearts flew across the live chat screen, the lines moving by so quickly that you couldn’t tell when one message ended and another started. Practically bouncing in your seat, you couldn’t help the smile that skittered across your cheeks.

“Good,” you whispered aloud to yourself in the quiet of your room. You knew that they couldn’t hear you when you talked like that, that they wouldn’t know you had even replied at all, but it made their streams feel a little more lively nonetheless.

After a brief pause, Dream’s voice filtered through the air once more, just as bright and eager as it was earlier. “Good? I hope the answer is good.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart flipping in your chest as your fingers curled into the shirt in your lap. That sort of thing happened sometimes: a streamer would say something and your verbal response almost made it feel like they were actually holding a conversation, like they were actually with you right now. These sorts of things were always a coincidence, but when everything in your world was connected by fate, sometimes you let yourself be a little hopeful, let yourself imagine that maybe it wasn’t dumb luck—that maybe it actually meant something.

Hell, maybe it meant you could be soulmates.

Soulmates were a tricky thing to think about, really, even if everyone knew they existed and that one day, they would meet theirs. No one could pinpoint when exactly soulmates came to be, but no one rejected their presence either way. It wasn’t like they wanted to, anyways. To have a person who was perfect for you linked to you by the universe—it was no wonder people were more than pleased to discover they weren’t just some old lover’s tale.

But even then, some were skeptics. How would you really know when you had found your soulmate? What if you missed them by accident? For you at least, you already knew what it would feel like. You couldn’t count just how many times you had asked your mother that very question, but you could practically rattle off her words by heart.

“You’ll know exactly when it happens, I promise, sweetie,” she would murmur, stroking your head with a gentle hum and soft eyes. “When you first touch, it feels like... like you’ve been struck by lightning, and you’ll be tingly all over. Something inside you just sort of clicks when you look at them, and you’ll just—you’ll feel it right here.” She tapped her finger over your heart, a wistful expression settling across her face. “It’s... it’s magical, and you’ll never forget that feeling—not for the rest of your life.”

The smile that would tug on your mother’s lips made you all the more hopeful, a heavy yearning settling deep into the crevices of your heart as the years went by. Even now, as you sat watching Sapnap and George bicker with each other while Dream chimed in with a snarky remark, you felt that same fleeting hope rising up in your chest, warm and soft.

Maybe—just maybe—they might be your soulmates.

Not that they actually were, of course. You knew better than to get your hopes too high.

But as you watched Sapnap’s lean a little closer to his camera and listened to George’s breathy laugh, you felt your heart swell the tiniest bit.

Connected by fate or not, these boys were special to you, even if you had never met.

Sapnap blinked as his eyes darted across his monitor, raising his eyebrows with surprise as he let out a short whistle. “Oh, wow, we’re pulling... holy crap—over seven hundred thousand viewers, right now.” You could vaguely hear the scrolling of his mouse, his lips twitching. “Everyone sounds so excited in chat, too.”

George’s eyebrow quirked. “I mean, of course they are. Manhunts are loads of fun—who wouldn’t want to be a part of them?”

Sapnap’s face split into a teasing grin, and he leaned back in his chair. “Ooh, you sure sound cocky, George.”

George blinked once, then scowled. “Wha—shut up, it’s true! Why else would there be so many people here?”

A devilish gleam flickered across Sapnap’s gaze. “To see your pretty face, maybe.”

George’s frown deepened, his eyebrows knitting together into a glower. “Sapnap, you—”

“Look, look,” he cried, wagging his finger at his monitor, “even chat agrees!” His lips curled up into a smirk, mischievous and amused all at once. “You’re not gonna say chat is wrong, are you, Gogy?”

You could have sworn a hint of rose flushed across George’s cheeks as he averted his gaze from his camera, his voice coming out softer than before. “W-Well, I—”

“Boys, boys,” Dream suddenly cut in, George’s words trailing off in an instant. Despite the firmness of his words, there was an amused lilt to his tone, the smile evident in his voice. “You’re both pretty, alright, but can we please move on? I bet everyone’s dying to know who won.”

George opened his mouth, then let out a sigh, shaking his head with a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “You know what, Dream’s right. Let’s move on.”

Sapnap snickered on his side of the screen, still grinning widely. “You just can’t handle the truth.”

George groaned, deadpanning into the camera. “We are not starting this, again.”

Sapnap smiled, but didn’t get to speak before Dream cut him off. “You’re right,” he said, sounding a tad more hurried than before, “we’re not, because I’ve got the results, right here.”

You suddenly sat up, your heart stuttering. That same spark of hope fluttered up between your lungs, and you found yourself shuffling your chair forward, squinting in anticipation. Curiosity quivered around the edges of your mind, a certain eagerness pawing at your side as you watched a white pop-up fill the stream.

Everybody had an equal chance of winning—you knew that. That everyone may include you, but it also included every other person who bought one of those shirts. It didn’t take a genius to know that you weren't going to win. After all, not everything was guaranteed like having a soulmate was.

“And,” Dream began, dramatic and slow, “our winner is...”

You squeezed your hands, clasping your palms together with a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

“...shirt number 267815!”

You blinked, your brows furrowing together. That number sounded... oddly familiar. Your eyes flickered down to the shirt in your lap, the white tag peeking back up at you.

It couldn’t be.

All of a sudden, Dream’s voice rang through the air once more, sounding even clearer than ever before.

“Oh, and the name connected to the shirt is... [Y/N]!”

Your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest, your eyes shooting wide open as your jaw dropped.

I... won?

You gaped at your screen, only half-registering the sight of Sapnap and George clapping. The chat had become a blur of words you couldn’t bring yourself to read, your vision growing hazy and unfocused with shock. I must look crazy right now, you thought to yourself distantly, rubbing at your face. This can’t be real.

George’s gaze locked directly onto the camera, and for a second, it almost felt like he was speaking directly to you. “Congratulations, [Y/N]!” He wrinkled his nose with an apologetic smile. “I hope I’m saying that, right. If I’m wrong, please tell me.”

Sapnap chuckled, shooting him a devious grin. “Knowing George, he’s probably wrong.”

Your lips twitched at the frown that flitted across George’s face before Dream took over again. “Ignore them—they’re being dumb.” Before either of them could protest, he quickly added, “Anyways, welcome to Minecraft Manhunt! We’re looking forward to meeting you. We’ll send you an email soon, and you can give us some more info there.”

You nodded at your monitor, your lips still parted in surprise. “We’ll be ending the stream now,” Dream continued, “but thanks so much for everyone else who participated. Your love and support mean the world to us!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, and it sent a rush of warmth shooting down your spine. “[Y/N],” he murmured, suddenly sounding soft, “we’ll see you soon.”

As George and Sapnap waved one last time at their cameras with excited grins, you swallowed. Your heart rattled in your chest as the screen faded back to black, and you found yourself sitting face-to-face with your reflection once more.

You were right—you looked just as dumbfounded as you felt.

Slowly, you closed your mouth, lowering your gaze to the shirt in your lap. The axe that was laid out across your thighs somehow seemed brighter than it did before, almost as if someone had painted over it with a newer, shinier layer of white.

Lifting the shirt to your chest, you felt a wide grin tug at your lips—wider than any grin you had ever smiled before.

Maybe you were luckier than you thought.

Your finger hovered over the left button of your mouse, your breaths coming out shaky and short as they pumped through your lungs. The Discord call already had three icons waiting for you, and all you had to do was click to join them.

Breathe, [Y/N]. You’re only about to talk to three of your favourite content creators on the planet. It’ll be easy.

You paused, listening to the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not fooling anyone.

A groan rose in the back of your throat, and you hung your head in your hands for a long moment. “C’mon,” you whispered to yourself. “You can’t keep them waiting forever.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek, then lifted your head, nodding once, then twice. Yes, okay—calm. I can be calm. Your finger twitched. Let’s do this.

Your hand reached back for your mouse, the cool plastic melding against your skin as your cursor hovered back over the call. Squeezing your eyes shut for just a second, you let your finger press down, a familiar ping echoing through your headphones. There was a beat of silence. Then, someone spoke.

“Hi! Hello!”

You jumped at that sound of Dream’s voice, your heart skipping a beat as you quickly reoriented yourself again. “H-Hi, there,” you said as calmly as you could muster.

“It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N]! I’m Dream.” There was a slight pause, then he added hesitantly, “Did I say that right, by the way? Your name, I mean.”

Your lips curled up into a smile, and you felt the tension seep out of your shoulders. “Yes, you got it right.”

You could almost imagine him grinning to himself triumphantly. “Perfect.”

A new voice suddenly jumped in, just as eager as Dream’s. “Don’t steal the spotlight already, Dream,” Sapnap whined, his icon flashing green. “There’s three of us, not just you.” Ignoring Dream’s quiet apology, he quickly moved on. “I’m Sapnap—it’s great to have you here.”

“And I’m George,” another voice added, his prominent accent sounding like honey in your ears.

Every ounce of anxiety you had been feeling earlier felt so far away now, their voices carrying your worries off over the horizon. “It’s nice to meet you all, too. My name’s [Y/N], but you already know who I am, don’t you?”

“Well,” George said, drawing out the vowel, “we may know a few things about you, but we don’t really know who you are—that’s something we want to hear from you.”

Sapnap made a noise of confirmation, his mouth moving at lightning speed as he suddenly began to fire off question after question. “Yeah, like, what’s your favourite flower? Or season? Which one of us do you think is the most handsome? Ooh, what about—”

“Woah, woah,” Dream cut in, wheezing ever so slightly, “one thing at a time, to start. Let them breathe, at least!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the hints of laughter tinting his voice. “It’s okay!” you said, your lips splitting into a crooked grin. “Although I don’t know if I can answer those questions.”

George let out a confused noise. “No? Why not?”

You hummed, swinging your legs around your chair. “Like for my favourite flower, I think they’re all really pretty and look nice, in their own little ways. Same thing for seasons.” You chuckled. “I’m too indecisive to pick just one.”

“But who do you think is the most handsome out of the three of us?” Sapnap prodded, excitement seeping into his tone. “It’s definitely me, right? Come on.”

“Hey,” George suddenly quipped, rushing through his words, “no flirting yet! We only just met!”

There was a brief second of silence. “I mean, isn’t that technically the best time to start flirting?”

“Sapnap.”

“Fine,” Sapnap sighed. You could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Friends first, flirting later.” You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when he added, “Carry on, though. I still want to hear your answer.”

Chewing on your lip, you stiffened, drumming your fingers against the side of your keyboard. “I’m telling you,” you sighed after a long moment, “I really don’t think I can pick. As a matter of fact,” you pointed out, raising a finger. “I don’t even know what one of you looks like.”

Now, it was Dream’s turn to speak up. “Then, talk about attractiveness, in general. It doesn’t just have to be about looks.”

You froze, your posture going rigid. Attractiveness in general…?

How could you possibly encapsulate their attractiveness just like that? Dream was so incredibly clever, and you loved to hear him talk about his passions. George was smarter than he let on, and you could see it in the way he coded their videos, working relentlessly to make them work. Sapnap was beyond affectionate, and just hearing him share his affection with those around him made your stomach melt. They were just handing you a recipe for disaster with a question like this, you knew it.

“This question is impossible,” you blurted, a gentle panic seeping into your tone. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned closer to your mic, adding with a teasing lilt, “Are you trying to torture me?”

“Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t,” Dream hummed, chuckling at the small whine that escaped your lips. “Either way, it’s cute to hear you struggle.”

Your breath suddenly hitched in your throat, but Sapnap was quick to leap forward. “Hey, what did we say about no flirting?”

Another beat of silence. “Killjoy.”

“Okay, moving on from that,” George said, quickly diverting topics, “how are you feeling, [Y/N]? Are you looking forward to the manhunt?”

You looked back at the call, your eyes locking onto the three Discord icons sitting next to your own. “Yes,” you admitted, “but I’m also very, very nervous.”

“Nervous?” Dream repeated slowly.

“Nervous,” you said again, “but a good kind of nervous.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Actually, I think excited is a better word to use. You guys always just seem like you have so much fun when you’re around each other, and I’m just...” You waved your hands in front of yourself, feeling your heart beat faster and faster while your face grew hot once more. “I’m just really excited to film with you all and play Minecraft together.”

Silence washed over the call, and your cheeks felt like they were about to burn right off your face. “Sorry,” you mumbled embarrassedly. “That—that probably sounds really dumb.”

“It doesn’t,” Sapnap said suddenly, making your gaze grow wide, “not at all.”

“Yeah,” George added with a joyful hum. “I dunno about those two, but I’m also excited to play with you, [Y/N].”

Dream guffawed, a scoff escaping his lips. “What do you mean you don’t know about us? Of course we’re excited! [Y/N] is great!”

You nearly fell out of your chair. “H-Huh?”

Dream’s voice was suddenly soft again, both parts soothing and cheerful all at once. “We might have only known each other for a little while, but I’m telling you, we’re beyond happy to have you here, and we want you to have a good time, too.”

“Oh, a thousand percent,” George said straight-facedly into his mic. “I’d trade you for both of these nerds in a heartbeat.”

Just like that, Sapnap was yelling as you heard Dream smack his desk. “George, what?! How could you say that?”

Giggling, you sank into your desk chair with a relieved smile, pressing a hand over your eager heart. “Thank you,” you murmured, only hoping they could hear the sincerity in your words. “I hope I don’t let you guys down.”

Their raucous bickering suddenly died down at the softness in your tone, and three voices spoke at the same time—each one sounding more honest than the last.

“You could never.”

You leaned forward in your desk chair, your eyes glued to your screen as you watched Dream’s avatar stand as still as a rock, frozen and entirely unmoving. Your finger hovered over your W key, waiting for the perfect moment to strike as your tongue darted out to flick over your bottom lip.

Manhunts may be stressful, but you were more than ready to tackle this one headfirst.

It happened so quickly that you nearly missed it. In one moment, Dream was standing in front of you, stock still as you stared him down. In the next, he was darting off in the opposite direction, already a whopping ten blocks away.

Sapnap’s voice shot through your headset like a bullet as he shouted, “After him!”

He didn’t need to say it again before the group was already dashing across the grassy field, boosting each other forward every other block. You clicked frantically at George’s backside, your lips twitching in glee as he shot the slightest bit closer to Dream. With each passing second, they ran further and further, Dream lying just a few steps out of reach. All of a sudden, he leapt off the side of a cliff, vanishing from sight in an instant. Coming to a screeching halt atop the hill, you watched as Bad peered over the forest, Sapnap and George hot on his heels.

“Where’d he go?” George muttered, confusion clouding his voice.

You shifted your mouse left and right as your gaze darted across your screen, scanning every pixel for even the tiniest hint of neon green. Just then, a gasp flew from your lips, and you caught Sapnap jolting in your direction at the sound.

“Look!” you cried, clicking to point over at the greenery. “He’s on the right—on top of the trees!”

Without missing a beat, everyone was leaping off the hill and barreling across the trees, ignoring their fall damage as they jumped over small gaps. “What is he,” George grumbled under his breath, “a monkey?”

You let out a tiny giggle at the genuine annoyance in his tone, but didn’t stop chasing after Dream’s running figure. Suddenly, he just barely missed his jump, bouncing twice on the same leaf block. He had only stalled for a brief second, but that was more than enough time for you to spam click your mouse. In a flash, Dream was tumbling off the tree, with you trailing right after him.

“I hit him off!” you shouted in glee, elation making every one of your syllables soar in your throat. “He’s on the ground.”

“Nice one, [Y/N]!” Sapnap chuckled with delight. “Now, don’t let him get away!”

The praise made the triumphant feeling that had unfurled beneath your ribs spread even farther under your skin, warming you from head to toe. Pushing forward, you nodded and slammed your thumb down on your space bar.

You had no plans of letting him escape.

You pulled your water bottle from your lips with a gasp, quickly screwing the cap back on before setting it down on your desk. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you turned back to your monitor, your gaze focused on the anvil a few blocks away. To your left sat the portal, and to your right was a wall of obsidian.

You were four hours into filming now, but you still weren't tired. How could you be, when you were so close to the end?

Clicking on the anvil, you dragged the diamond axe in your inventory into the first slot before reaching for the enchanted book sitting just beside it. Forty-two levels—you would need forty-two levels to enchant your axe with Sharpness IV.

You glanced down at the space above your hotbar and grinned.

Luckily for you, you had forty-three.

Clicking once more, clanging echoed through your ears, and you placed your newly enchanted axe in your hotbar with a proud smile. It was an absolute pain having to kill as many mobs and loot as many desert temples as you did, but for this, it was absolutely worth it. Now, it was time for the rest of the plan.

“I have no idea how you came up with this,” George said earnestly, his character facing yours, “but I love it.”

You grinned, opening up your inventory and removing your amour. “I just got really, really lucky.”

Grabbing an invisibility potion, you suddenly paused, a hint of uneasiness sinking in your gut. If Dream noticed any particles, you would be dead in an instant, and your plan would be blown to smithereens. You would have to move quickly to make it work—almost ridiculously quickly.

Swallowing, you opened your mouth. “Do you guys think we can really pull this thing off?”

Sapnap let out an easygoing chuckle, your shoulders relaxing in an instant. “Oh, I know we can.”

Letting Sapnap’s confidence run through you, you held down your mouse’s right key, downing the invisibility potion in one go before turning to rush out of the portal room. Through your headphones, you heard Dream let out an inquisitive hum, curiosity flickering through his tone. “Just what are you guys up to?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” Sapnap fired back without missing a beat, his voice swimming with mischief.

While George let out a wheeze and you giggled at Sapnap’s sharp quip, Dream sighed, muttering, “So much for asking.”

Huffing out one last quiet laugh, the smile fell from your face, your eyes narrowing as your expression grew serious. You moved ever so carefully through the stronghold, weaving in and out of the labyrinthine halls like a snake on the hunt. Your gaze darted back and forth between the compass in your hotbar and your screen. With each sharp swing of the compass hand, you held your breath, turning until it was pointed forward again. You had been searching for a few minutes when suddenly, you spotted it.

A glimpse of green.

Dressed head to toe in enchanted iron armour, Dream’s avatar stood in front of a wall of furnaces, smelting away as he turned from one to the next. On the same wall was a crafting table and a chest. He was planning something, you just knew it, but you didn’t have the time to question what. After all, he was facing the wall opposite from you, completely unaware of your presence.

This was the perfect chance, and you weren’t going to waste it worrying.

Creeping forward, you stopped only when you stood just a single block away from him, switching from your empty hand to the enchanted diamond axe in your hotbar. With Sharpness IV, it would only take three critical hits for you to take him down.

For a second, all was still.

Then, you were pressing down on your space bar and clicking your mouse a half second later, watching with bated breath as Dream’s avatar twitched from your attack. One.

He had barely managed to turn around before you had already landed another hit on him. Two.

By the time he had pulled out his own axe and began scanning the seemingly empty air in front of him, you were slamming your finger down one last time. Three.

With a shout, Dream dropped dead before you, his inventory exploding into a mess on the floor at your feet. You blinked once. Twice.

Then, the call burst into a mess of screams and shouts.

Dream’s yell rang through your ears as George and Sapnap hooted in delight, Bad and Antfrost following with their own victory cheers. “What the heck?!” he cried, shock filling his every word. “[Y/N], was that you? Oh my god, where did you even come from?”

Practically gasping for breath, you nearly collapsed on top of your keyboard, the adrenaline slowly wearing off as you smiled triumphantly to yourself. “[Y/N], you did it!” Sapnap shouted, just as loud as before. “You—you just—holy crap!”

“I was so stressed,” you breathed, sagging against the back of your chair with a breathless laugh. “You have no idea.”

“You were awesome, so awesome,” George managed between giggles, his own voice sounding giddy and positively overjoyed. “I knew you could do it.”

Your cheeks half-felt like they were about to start hurting from how hard you were smiling, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Dream’s tired laugh filled your ears.

“Congratulations, [Y/N],” he murmured fondly. “You won.”

Just a week and a half later, you couldn’t believe your eyes as you scrolled through the comments section of the new video.

[y/n] was so funny omg

They made this manhunt feel so much more special

Their chemistry as a group was so good wtf!!!??!

please bring [y/n] back I am in LOVE

[Y/N] SUPREMACY

With each new comment you scrolled past, you felt your heart swell more and more in your chest with a mixture of joy and pride. You didn’t expect people to respond so positively to the video—to you.

You had barely made even a dent in the hordes of comments about you when a Discord notification popped up on your laptop screen. In a flash, you were pulling up Discord, quickly clicking on the appropriately named group chat, [Y/N] KILLED DREAM!!

Sapnap: hey

Sapnap: hey did you read the comments

[Y/N]: i did! people were so positive!!

[Y/N]: i wasn’t expecting it

George: You weren’t?

You furrowed your brows, reading George’s question twice before typing once again.

[Y/N]: of course not??? i’m just some person

[Y/N]: you guys are the dream team

George: Don’t put yourself down like that

Sapnap: yeah everyone liked the video because they liked you

Dream: well then

Dream: how do you feel about coming back to film again?

You stared at your screen in awe, something hopeful and weightless rising in the expanse of your chest. Filming another video? With them?

You didn’t even have to think before your fingers were typing out a response.

[Y/N]: i would love to

Peals of laughter tumbled from your lips as you rolled over on your bed, your phone perched beside your head on your pillow. A split second later, a loud whine echoed from your phone speaker, and you found yourself laughing even harder, your lungs gasping harder and harder for breath with each giggle that was pulled from your throat.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed that you would be here.

It had been nearly a year since the fateful day that brought you and the Dream Team together and a little over ten months since you had first filmed together. Now, three videos and countless streams later, you were closer than ever before, cracking jokes and pushing each other’s buttons like you had known each other their whole lives—maybe even longer than that. It took some prodding, but you even called Dream by his real name, now. As much as you liked the name Dream, Clay sounded much nicer, in your opinion. Texting daily was practically a sacred ritual now, and you couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t get spammed by their texts at least four times a week. Even now, as you lay on your bed with your phone connected to Discord at your side, you were chatting with them, grinning as wide as ever. It was a comfortably pleasant lull you had fallen into, the four of you—one that you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life sinking into.

It was comfortable indeed, but even as complete as you felt now, you felt like there was something missing—like there was a hollow cavern in your chest just waiting to be filled.

Yet another shout suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, the noise sounding even more astounded than it had before. “How was I supposed to know that that was Russia?”

The sheer amount of shock in George’s voice immediately made you burst into another fit of giggles, throwing your head back. “There was Russian on the sign!” you managed between breaths. “It was so obvious!”

He sputtered at the sound of your laughter, sounding absolutely appalled by your reaction. “You can’t just expect me to be able to read Russian!”

You grinned, your voice dropping the tiniest fraction. “You act as if you don’t know how to say a few things in Russian.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, Sapnap whistled. “Touché, [Y/N]. You’ve got him there.”

While George groaned, surely smacking his palm into his forehead, Clay spoke up with a teasing hum. “You should play some GeoGuessr with us more often. You’re way better at this than George.”

“This is bullying,” came a distant complaint from George, his voice coming out muffled through his mic.

“It’s the truth,” you corrected with a cheeky grin. “You cannot deny that.”

There came a snort, followed by Sapnap’s gentle laugh. “Look at you, [Y/N], being so mean all of a sudden.”

You smiled lopsidedly, trying to push back the shiver that ran down your spine at the way his low voice made your insides melt. “You know you guys love it.”

“We do.” Clay’s voice almost sounded far away, muffled and hazy. “We really, really do.”

Your heart leapt into your throat as a soft silence washed over the four of you, your chuckles dying down and fading into the quietness of your bedroom. Sighing deeply, you picked at your nail, silently begging your heart to calm down again. It was right then when George softly piped up.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he said quietly. When you let out a small noise, he continued. “We… you would call us close to you, right?”

You laughed at the hesitancy in his tone. For a second, he almost sounded shy, and it sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. “Do you even have to ask? We’ve been friends for months—of course we are!”

You could make out the faint sound of shuffling from Clay’s end, his icon flashing green. “Are—” He coughed. “Does that mean we’re close enough to ask you a… somewhat private question?”

You raised an eyebrow at his tone, your curiosity piquing. “Go for it,” you said gently, letting your eyelids flutter comfortably shut.

“Have you met your soulmate yet?”

In an instant, your eyes shot wide open again, and you lay frozen in your bed. In all the time you had known each other, not once had you brought up the topic of soulmates. It was almost as though you had simply skirted around it, too shy to press on about. But right now, with the topic lying right in front of your face, you couldn’t just avoid the topic.

Your fingers twitched as your mouth fell open. “N-No,” you stammered, the butterflies in your stomach going oddly still. “I, um, I haven’t. Have any of you?”

There was a pause. “No, none of us.”

You thought for a moment, your heart mulling over those four little words. Then, you exhaled and let your shoulders relax against the mattress, your nails curling into your palm. “I’m sure you guys have nothing to worry about,” you murmured almost hazily. “There are probably thousands and thousands of people who would love to be any one of your soulmates.” You chuckled, but it tasted bittersweet on your tongue. “Heck, there’s probably at least half a million fans who would be dying to take my place, right now.”

On the other end of the line, you were met with silence, but it was fleeting. “What about you?” Clay suddenly asked.

You blinked, your palm going slack. “Me?”

“You,” Clay affirmed, sounding more serious than before. “If you were one of our soulmates, how would you feel?”

The words left your lips before you could stop them. “Happy,” you blurted, suddenly feeling breathless. “So, so happy. I—”

You suddenly slapped your hand over your mouth, cutting yourself off with wide eyes. Realization struck you like a lightning bolt, and you could feel your blood run cold in your neck. I did not just say that.

“What—” George stopped. Then, a second later, he continued. “Which one of us would you want it to be? To be your soulmate?”

With trembling fingers, you moved your hand away from your mouth, your voice coming out small. “Are you asking me who I like most?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

You almost felt your heart drop, bolting upright until you were sitting atop your sheets. Wrapping your hand around your phone, you balanced it on your lap, uncertainty springing up in your gut.

Who... I like most?

Dream, George, and Sapnap. Sapnap, Dream, and George.

To think that just a year ago, you had never spoken to them—had only ever known them as three strangers through a screen. Yet here you were now, their voices soft against your ear and your heart aching at the sound of their laughter. They made you smile beyond belief, and you wouldn’t miss a call with them for the world, even if it was three in the morning and you were dead asleep. Although you had spent time with each of them individually, just as friends did, you loved spending time with all three of them together far more, and you didn’t want to imagine having them any other way.

George, Sapnap, and Dream.

Who did you like most?

You swallowed, then opened your mouth. “I,” you choked out, “I don’t—I wouldn’t—”

You stopped, your heart pounding like a drum between your lungs. You could feel them waiting for you, as patient and caring as ever. The thought made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Screwing your eyes shut, you sucked in a deep breath and whispered.

“I don’t think I could ever pick just one of you.”

The silence that filled the air as you closed your mouth was tense. A million unspoken words ricocheted off the insides of your mind, your heart racing within the confines of your chest. The air suddenly felt too hot, and you kicked the covers off your legs, curling your knees closer to your chest and resting your burning cheeks on top of them.

“Maybe this is a sudden thing to say,” Sapnap whispered abruptly, his words coming out slurred as he broke the silence, “but I really, really want to know what you look like right now, [Y/N].”

You felt your arms go limp around your legs. “Me, too,” George added, thoughtful and faint. “I bet you’re beautiful.”

Resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands, you ran your finger along the edge of your phone screen, the glass pressing against your hot skin. “I—um,” you began shakily, “you’ll see when we meet, okay? This way, two of us can stay a mystery.”

Clay’s soft chuckle rippled through your bedroom once more, bouncing off the walls and making your chest ache even more. “Alright.”

You felt your chest constrict with heat, feeling like you were almost about to burst at the seams from the way they were speaking. “W-Well,” you laughed, trying not to sound as panicked as you felt, “on that note, I think I’m gonna go to sleep now.” You opened your mouth to continue when a yawn cut you off, eliciting a string of laughs from your phone speaker. “I’m feeling pretty tired.”

“Sweet dreams, [Y/N],” George murmured tenderly. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed with your heart battering against your ribs. “Goodnight!”

Reaching over, you pressed your thumb over your phone screen, exiting the call just as swiftly as you had joined. That had been hours ago now, and while you were tired, you couldn’t shake the churning sensation in the pit of your stomach—twisting and turning as you laid back on your bed. You slipped your phone onto your nightstand, plugging it in in a forlorn haze before lying back once more. Staring up at the lonesome ceiling, you frowned, your heart suddenly feeling like an anchor in your chest.

Without even an inch of doubt, you knew: you liked them—all three of them.

And it was going to be the end of you.

Having a crush was a dangerous thing in a world full of soulmates, especially if they were online—even more so if you had multiple. You could only ever find out if someone was your soulmate if you met them in person, and you had heard far too many stories of couples meeting in person, only to learn that they weren’t fated to be. Combining that with multiple soulmate bonds slimmed the chances even further. Multiple soulmate bonds weren’t exactly unheard of, but they were rare. You had never met anyone who had one, and you doubted that you would be the first you’d know to have one.

You suddenly felt it—that familiar spark of hope you felt all those months ago when you sat at your desk chair with a shirt on your lap. The hope that drew you to them now was the very same hope that connected you in the first place. Your heart leapt, lapping up every last droplet like a man dying of thirst, yet with each new spark that rained down in your chest, the thought clawing at the back of your mind loomed larger and larger.

Just what exactly were the chances all four of you would be soulmates? It had to be next to nothing if it wasn’t zero already.

This wasn’t like the manhunt raffle—lady luck could only be so generous.

Rolling onto your side, you felt something deep inside you reach its hands up and wrap around your lungs, squeezing as tightly as it could. The ache that shot through your insides stung like a hot coal, but you knew there was nothing you could do to soothe its hungry flames. Unshed tears pricked the back of your eyelids like silver needles, and you squeezed your eyes shut, choking back a muffled whine. Your bedroom suddenly felt too big, your bed too empty.

Hope could be beautiful, but it could also destroy you from the inside out.

“Do not leave the call.”

Clay’s chuckle sent a frown skittering across your face, and you let out a small whine as you leaned forward in your desk chair. “Aww,” he crooned, teasing and light, “are you jealous, Georgie?”

“N-No, what?” George sputtered, and you could almost envision the way his cheeks would flush a pretty shade of baby pink. “Just—just don’t hang up.”

“I’m telling you,” Sapnap laughed with a sly lilt, his voice sounding a little more distant than Clay’s, “he’s jealous.” You vaguely could make out the sound of his signal light from inside his car, a muffled car horn echoing from outside. “Or at least if he isn’t, [Y/N] is.”

At that, you whipped your head up, blinking wide as you shot a glare at Sapnap’s Discord icon on the side of your monitor screen. “Well, [Y/N]?” Clay drawled, a flicker of mischief dancing in his tone. “What do you have to say about that?”

You curled your fingers into your hands, a small pout settling onto your features as heat shot across your face. “I—I am!” you said, your voice coming out a fraction louder than you intended. When the other line went quiet, you shuffled back in your seat, your cheeks burning even hotter. “I am jealous, okay? It’s... it’s just not fair that you two get to meet before we do.”

There was a brief moment of silence. You were being childish, you knew, but at least you were being honest. Suddenly, Clay spoke. “We know, sweetheart,” he said gently, not at all realizing how your heart skipped a beat at the pet name. “But you’ll be able to meet us soon. Just wait a bit longer, okay? I’ll buy you both plane tickets if I have to.”

You pouted with a dejected whimper, your finger drawing small circles onto the side of your desk. “Okay.”

“Don’t sound so sad,” Sapnap chuckled with a soothing coo. “As soon as we can get you two over here, we will.”

You let out a sigh, swinging your chair from side to side with a frown. Was it so wrong of you to want to meet them so badly, to want to see them and hug them? Part of you didn’t even care if you were all soulmates at this point—you just wanted to hear them laugh in person. You wanted to make them smile. Was that really so much to ask for?

“I see him!” Clay suddenly shouted. Your head shot up faster than a bullet, and you heard the sound of a front door opening and slamming shut. “Oh, Sapnap.”

“Oh, Dream,” Sapnap called mockingly, his smile shining through in his voice. There was the sound of the car engine stopping, then a car door swinging open. “Holy crap, you’re way taller than I expected.”

You chuckled at the surprise in Sapnap’s voice, hearing George laugh along with you. “Jeez,” Clay muttered, his voice overlapping ever so slightly with the mic on Sapnap’s phone. “It’s so weird actually seeing you in person, oh my go—”

All of a sudden, Clay went silent, cutting himself off with a strangled noise of surprise. On Sapnap’s end, there was a muffled choking sound, then nothing. In a flash, you were upright, your eyes wide and your hand flying to your mouse.

“Sapnap?” George called, his tone soaked with worry. “Clay? Are you two alright?”

There came a gasp, and you could make out the sound of Sapnap struggling to search for words. “You’re—Clay’s my—”

Just like that, it clicked, like a switch had been flipped inside you. You felt something in your chest deflate, and you opened your mouth.

“Soulmates,” you whispered so quietly that you would have missed it yourself, had you not been the one to say it. “You two are soulmates, aren’t you?”

George fell silent. “I think so,” Clay mumbled, his tone coming out as if he were in a daze. “I’ve never felt anything like that before in my life—it definitely feels like what everyone says, you know? Just, really warm, and.... and...” He trailed off, ending with an enamoured sigh. “Yeah.”

Your mouth felt as though it had been sewn shut, like you wouldn’t have been able to force the words from your lips even if you tried. “How did we not know after all these years?” Sapnap giggled, his voice swimming in a mixture of disbelief and affection.

“We’ve never met in person up until now,” Clay mused, his sentence rising at the end. “This is the first time we’ve ever seen each other, let alone touched.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sapnap murmured back wistfully. The call suddenly went quiet, and a deep, disappointed quiet fell over the four of you. Not a word was said as the harsh reality slowly settled into your hearts.

Clay and Sapnap were soulmates.

Only Clay and Sapnap.

“I’m happy for you two!” George suddenly shouted, startling you in your chair. He sounded oddly chipper—too chipper. “I wish—” He suddenly choked, pausing for a moment to catch his breath again. “I wish I was already friends with my soulmate. Meeting new people is hard.”

“Who knows?” Clay chuckled. His words were teasing, but even they couldn’t mask how crestfallen he sounded. “Maybe [Y/N] is yours.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap hummed in agreement, the hopefulness in his voice sounding just as forced as his soulmate’s. “You hear that, [Y/N]? Maybe you and Gogy were meant to be.”

Your vision was hazy and unfocused, your gaze focused on the window in your room. In the corner of the glass was a small spider web, just barely the size of your palm. You watched with blurry eyes as a fly caught in the sticky web beat its wings in desperation, struggling helplessly as a spider crawled out from behind the windowsill. You distantly wondered how trapped that fly felt—if it knew that there was no point in hoping for anything better, now.

Turning away from the window, you focused your gaze down at yourself, down at the black shirt you were wearing. A clean white axe stared back up at you, and you felt a bittersweet smile stretch across your face as you uttered a single word.

“Maybe.”

A loud beep echoed from the ceiling speakers, and you jumped at the sound. All around you, people were bustling in and out of gates, towing luggage behind them as they rushed down the crowded pathways and between loitering groups of people. You whipped your head this way and that at the sight, your head spinning with all the new sights and sounds.

It was still hard to believe that just a few months prior, you wouldn’t have been able to step foot in an airport like this.

To see people move from one place to the next, seeing loved ones and meeting new people for the first time was almost exhilarating, especially after all that had happened with the world. You liked it, and you certainly hoped that it was here to stay.

You had just started walking down the main path when you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Fishing it out, your face lit up at the caller ID, and you picked up without waiting another second, pressing the cool glass to your ear with a smile. “Hi, George.”

“Hey!” he greeted with a cheerful tone. “Did you get here safely?”

Rocking back and forth on your heels, you curled your fingers a little tighter around the handle of your suitcase with a hum. “Yep.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and it sent a familiar tingle of warmth bouncing down your spine. “How are you feeling?”

You paused, your steps faltering for a brief second as you pondered. “Nervous,” you said after a moment or two, “but a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he repeated with a fond tone. “I think I know the word you’re looking for.”

Your lips curled up at his words, your mind flashing back to a distant day from long, long ago. “Yes, George, I’m excited.”

The laugh that fell from his lips sounded like pure music to your ears, and you caught yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind drowning in the sound. “Me, too.” As you wove between a few sectioned off groups, George added gently, “You know where to meet us, right?”

You nodded with a small noise of confirmation, making a sharp turn down yet another long hallway. “Yeah—I’m pretty sure Clay and Sap are already waiting for us.”

George snorted, both affectionate and teasing at once. “Oh, I know they are. I’ll see you there?”

You grinned, bobbing your head along to the beat of your suitcase wheels rolling across the polished tiled floors. “For sure. See you there!”

Lowering your phone from your ear, you pressed your thumb against the screen before letting it drop into your pocket once more. A sigh escaped your lips as you let the ache you had been suppressing tumble loose, throbbing and gnawing away at the shaky shards of your heart.

How long had they known that Clay and Sapnap were soulmates, now? Five months? Six? You weren’t sure if you could even bring yourself to keep count, anymore. It hurt too much to think about. You were happy for them, you really were. But the selfish part inside you still longed for their touch, even if they wouldn’t ever truly be yours. It wasn’t that you didn’t like George, but you meant what you said—you couldn’t pick just one, and you wanted all of them, as greedy as it was.

Shaking your head, you pushed forward, your gaze darting up to the navigational sign hanging from the ceiling. No matter how painful it may be, you weren’t going to let your own heart get in the way of how amazing today was going to be. You were meeting your favourite people in the world today, and nothing was going to take that away from you.

Not even heartbreak.

Glancing briefly over at a map on the wall, you huffed as you dragged your suitcase up a set of stairs and through the corridor, chewing on the inside of your lip. George’s gate was on the opposite side of the airport from yours, and Clay and Sapnap were waiting in the middle for the two of you. His flight had arrived a bit before yours, so you knew you were just going to have to find all three of them together.

After another few minutes of walking, you found yourself walking into the central dome of the airport, the glass ceiling filtering natural light into the room as you wheeled your luggage in. Your lips parting in awe at the sight, you swept your gaze across the busy room, scanning over every head you could find. You had only been looking for a few moments when a head of dark sepia hair caught your attention. Narrowing your eyes, you shuffled forward carefully. Then, your lips split into a triumphant grin.

There they were.

In a heartbeat, you felt your insides melt at the sight. Sapnap and George looked as handsome as ever, their lips curled up into dazzling smiles as they spoke, and Clay—oh, Clay. This was the first time you would ever be seeing each other’s faces, but you didn’t have to see him to know that he was pretty. With tousled golden locks and emerald green eyes that flashed like gemstones, he was everything you could have asked for and more.

Chatting casually with one another, all three of them were dressed in comfortable clothes, and you wanted to fling yourself at them and bury yourself into their warm touch. Sucking in a deep breath, you marched toward them, slinking around so that you were facing their backs. Hugs could come later—right now, it was time for a surprise.

Treading slowly and carefully, you only stopped when you stood a foot behind them, the giddiness rising in your chest as you finally opened your mouth.

“Sapnap was right. You are tall.”

The three of them immediately whirled at the sound of your voice, their eyes as wide as saucers as their gazes locked on yours. The grin on your face only grew wider as you watched their faces light up in unison, like a set of stars coming together in the night sky.

“[Y/N],” they said at the same time, blinking wildly as you sent them a small wave.

You laughed. “Here I a—”

“We were right, too,” Clay suddenly blurted, bending over slightly. “You are beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed with bubbling heat, and you felt your heart leap in your chest. “I—ah, um,” you stammered, taking a step back. “You look good too, Clay.”

Sapnap took a step forward, reaching his hand out toward you with a soft smile. “So, we finally meet,” he hummed, a brilliant gleam flashing across his eye. “Does this mean I get to hug you, now?”

You grinned, and with a giggle, you were leaping forward, your suitcase wobbling behind you as you let go. The moment you felt warm arms wrap around your backside, you felt yourself relax.

Then, your skin suddenly felt like it was on fire.

Warmth surged up your spine like a rippling flame, your eyes shooting wide open as you gasped, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of Sapnap’s shirt. In an instant, you were stumbling back, clutching at the space over your heart. You could feel it going absolutely haywire in your chest, pounding like never before. Your entire body felt as light as a feather, and your mind felt strangely hazy.

Impossible—it had to be.

“Sap,” you choked out, your eyes locking onto his own wide ones, “you—”

“George, Clay,” he suddenly said, reaching a hand out toward the two boys, “get over here. Right now.”

The two of them had been standing stock still just a few steps away, their jaws dropped and faces contorted with surprise as they watched you and Sapnap tremble across from one another. Swallowing, George took the first shaky step forward, reaching his hand toward yours. The moment your fingers brushed, the same tingling warmth crashed over you like a wave, and you let out a soft noise, happiness blooming in your throat like a blossom in spring. You watched with earnest eyes as George’s expression mirrored yours, his rosy lips parted in surprise as his fingers latched onto yours. The hope you had locked away months ago came pouring out of your glowing heart like a waterfall, overwhelming every inch of your senses.

“It’s not just us,” you whispered, your voice brimming with nebulous hope. “It’s George, too.”

George lifted his head, his breath hitched as he turned. “That just means...”

All three of your gazes landed on Clay, who was still frozen in place, stock still with shock. Your eyes darted to Sapnap’s, then George’s. You nodded in unison, and without saying a word, you stepped forward. You slipped your hand into Sapnap’s, your heart trembling with adoration at how big and warm his palm was against your own. Sharing one last glance with one another, you nodded. Just like that, you were slipping your hand into Clay’s, George following suit while Sapnap grabbed his.

In a heartbeat, everything felt perfect.

The empty cracks in your heart no longer felt as wide as they once did, instead flooding with burning warmth and something that felt like love. Your head spun with dizzying affection, and you felt your vision grow watery, but for an entirely different reason, now.

God, you loved them, you loved them, you loved them.

At your side, Sapnap’s hand shook in yours, surprise lacing his every word. “I can’t believe it.”

“A four-way soulmate bond,” George breathed, his own mouth twitching up into a lovestruck grin. “I—I never thought we’d have one. I mean, I always hoped but—”

Suddenly, Clay spoke up, his voice hoarse but full of sincerity. “W-Woah, are you crying? What’s wrong?”

In a flash, their eyes were on you, who had let go of Clay’s hand to press your palm against your eye. “N-Nothing’s wrong,” you said, your voice shaking with overwhelming emotion. “I’m just—I’m so happy.” A quiet sniffle bubbled up in your throat, but it didn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. “I liked you all so much and I was so scared that only George was going to be my soulmate, because you’re all so important to me, and I couldn’t just give you guys up like that.”

“[Y/N],” Clay choked out, his own voice starting to wobble, “stop, please. You’re going to make me cry.”

Laughing, you leaned against him, soaking into the warmth of his body as his arm instinctively wrapped around you. “Just—just cry with me, okay? We can all cry together.”

You didn’t need to say it twice. Not even a split second later, and you felt two more pairs of arms snake up around you, a nose burying itself into your hair as a cheek pressed against yours. “It looks like you won more than just one lottery then, huh?” Sapnap mumbled from above you, his chest rumbling against your back.

“Yeah,” George chuckled, his fingers lovingly rubbing small circles against your arm. “First the manhunt, now this. Just how lucky can one person be?”

You smiled, rubbing your head against Clay’s shoulder with a loving hum. “I don’t know what the universe was thinking,” you murmured, your eyelids fluttering shut as you gently rocked back and forth together, “but I’m glad I won. You three are the best prize I could have ever asked for.”

You felt a pair of lips press a soft kiss to the top of your head, your heart sighing in your chest. “I love you,” someone whispered, too softly for you to tell who it was.

All around you, the bustling airport kept moving, full of life and bursting with energy as the crowds flowed around you like a river. The world was still moving, the planet still turning beneath your feet as you embraced one another, warm and safe in each other’s arms. But in that moment, none of that mattered. A dazzling spark danced along the crevice of your heart, bright and warm and oh-so full of hope as you opened your mouth to whisper back.

“I love you all, too.”

2K notes · View notes

ohmysparkle · 3 years

Text

Skz Anal Queens

* Featuring: Minho + Hyunjin

* length: 1.5K

* warnings: smut, femdom, anal play, pegging, rimming, gaping (all male receiving)

* note: adapted from a reply I wrote to an ask on my prev account.

💖🖤💖🖤💖🖤💖🖤💖🖤💖🖤💖🖤💖🖤💖

Nsfw below

Original ask: Do you want something filthy? Really? A few minutes ago I remembered that there are guys who have their holes so ruined and used that it looks like they almost have pussy lips.

Let’s start with Minho. Sex god Minho who has fucked so many people in so many ways and he knows exactly what he wants. He doesn’t mind length and girth plowing into him, he’s probably into fisting too. He knows he likes the feeling of deep penetration as much as simply prostate stimulation, and his tiny little puckered hole in his pale ass is well trained to stretch out.

Minho is so masculine, his demeanor is pure testosterone. He’ll be asking you to pound him and just because he’s the one getting fucked in the ass doesn’t mean you’re in control. He’ll make you do exactly what he wants. Power bottom who loves control, and sometimes loves being treated like a submissive fuck toy too, but he’s an expert in managing to degrade you while your fucking him. Damn.

I can imagine him having such beautiful and natural hair around his cock and his ass. Might slightly trim to keep it neat, probably has a little trail of black fuzz from his belly button that dips into his tight pants, always teasing your line of sight.

So imagine him grunting fiercely and deeply when you’re shoving plastic into his ass, and there’s a moment when you pull it out and all that lube that’s spilled over his cheeks makes his pubes swirl in pretty glossy curls and his hole is absolutely wrecked. It’s not even a circular gape - it’s precisely a puckered rim that does look like a pair of lips, just weakly flapping closed.

He’s so fit, his bum isn’t quite plump but each ass cheek is perfectly rounded and he has those irresistible muscular thighs. Every part of his body is chiseled. And to think that all that firmness is contrasted by that floppy little fuck pocket in his core… you could cum on sight. You probably run your fingers over his puckered lips once his ass is done getting abused and you can practically see his red insides, and he’ll hiss and roll his hips against you to get more touch.

He’s filthy, he likes things dirty and he loves being cocky and getting his ego stroked. He might dare you, taunt you, to lick his hole clean even though he knows you hate the taste of so much damn lube - but he knows you can’t resist. You could make out with his completely flaccid asshole as if it were his mouth.

You’ll lick around the rim of his anus, and not deeper, just softly soothing, he won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but he will grab your hair just to create the illusion of dominance.

Sure, Minho was in control of how you fucked him, but the next day when you see him shifting uncomfortably when he tried to sit down, wincing in pain, it brought a proud smile to your lips.

Besides, you were certain, if you weren’t so nice to him you could have him begging in his hands and knees for you to fuck him. The choice of who is in control is always in your hands, not his. He only gets as far as you allow him too.

Now, on to my favorite pretty princess prince of all time, Hyunjin.

He’s so delicate, so sensitive. He does like things to be intense, rough, in ways that sometimes surprise you because you don’t want to hurt your precious prince. He cries so much that you kiss him throughout, reassuring and comforting your little baby. Your soft pink boy, and his tiny delicate hole that is satisfied with even the smallest things.

Hyunjin’s ass is too tight for you to use toys that are too wide, but he’s good at taking length. You’re terrified of doing the slightest thing wrong for your prince so you choose positions where you can have a clear view of how your cock moves in and out of his tiny, skinny, peachy ass. His hole is pink from the outside, a little colorful button. He’s completely smooth and bare - loves to get beautiful and dolled up for you so this boy will wax himself raw. Sometimes you help him too, you think it’s cute but he gets too shy sometimes. Loves it when you help wax him and end up giving him a hand jib and kisses all over to melt the pain away, but he’ll fidget and cover his face in embarrassment the entire time.

He’s very intuitive as to your sexual dynamic, and he’s always ready for when you’ll go deep into him, being your little fucktoy of a prince. He’s sparkling clean, moisturized all over. As soft as a kitten on every part of his body. He’s got a tiny skinny ass that’s so perky and has the cutest shape to it, and that pink little hole that’s hardly puckered until you’ve helped him stretch out a bit. Rimming is a must when you know he wants you to fuck him hard, you want to start soft.

He loves it when you spoon, and his queen holds him in her arms as you roll your hips into his ass. He wants to feel you all over him and he’ll take your hand and guide it to his tummy so you can feel the bulge of the cock you’re fucking him with. You’ll go slow most of the time, but nonetheless it’s deep, and it’s still quite a stretch for him. He’s feeling so delicate now, like you can break him if you choose so. And the way you’re gently handling him, kissing him, wiping his tears away, it all makes him feel like he’s the most loved little boy in the world, and like he’ll only ever feel this with you.

He needs your body completely against his, maybe you’ll do missionary too so you can press your forehead against his while you look at his dreamy eyes.

But the best is when you lay him face down, and lay atop him to fuck his ass. You can go so deep like this, and he buries his face and cries into the mattress in the cutest way. Like a little bunny burrowing into the ground. He likes to cum in these intimate positions, only from getting penetrated, he’ll save his cock for your pleasure a little later on.

Once you’re done, you’ll pull out slowly, the tip of the dildo leaving his wet hole with a plop. His rim is the perfect gaping circle, all neat and smooth. But when his anus starts to wink from the contractions of his orgasm, it clenches shut and you can see just how puckered and stretched it really got. The shade of pink is much more intense, his poor abused bottom aching.

You wipe him clean and kiss his teary face while all he can say is that he loves you. You cradle him in your arms, his face buried in your neck, and your hands cupping his ass cheeks.

Bonus: he’s trying to train his pink hole more without telling you. So he’ll surprise you with a photo or video of the new toys he uses and he’s very good with the angles, showing you all the right things to tempt you. He’s gotten good at stretching his ass more, and soon enough he’ll ask you to rail him with these girthier toys until his pretty little ass can turn ugly with how harshly you use it, and he’ll be smiling like an idiot with pride once he manages to gape certain amounts. He will get his anus to swell and stretch enough until it looks like a puffy set of lips.

He will refer to his hole as a pussy, make videos in pretty underwear and lingerie that suits his tiny body so well. He knows he drives you crazy, but he really just wants to be pretty for you and do his best for you.

Oh, and you know cockwarming? Forget it, Hyunjin’s aftercare bliss is when you cuddle in a position that lets you leave your fingers buried in his ass while he falls asleep. It’s tricky but it’s what makes your little prince happy.

Bonus: when they’re in the mood to be painsluts, both of these boys can hook their feet behind their heads so they can watch how you penetrate them. It gives you the perfect angle to whip their thighs and ass, letting the tip of the whip even hit their little, pathetically hard and leaking cocks. Make a mess of them, and when they cum make sure their semen squirts all over their faces. Make them eat it if you’re in the mood to be extra mean.

After they cum, Minho will probably want you to go harder, make him cum more and turn him into a filthy sticky and used boyhole, but Hyunjin will probably break and cry and ask you to hug him and kiss him and tell him he’s a good pretty boy.

#stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #minho smut #sub!hyunjin #sub!minho #sub!idol #sub!skz

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Wish In A Well

Part II

Pairing: witcher!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Steve, noncon/dubcon, non-consensual use of magic, might get a bit darker as the story progresses.

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Victims of a love spell, Steve and you learn how to live without each other when the charms get broken. Funny enough, you soon find your ex-boyfriend taking interest in you again.

Part I

P.S. Just to clarify, this is NOT the same witcher AU as Witcher tv-series/book/game.

___________

Soon you finished with your massage, and Rogers breathed out a sight of relief, his pain finally gone. Both of you quickly left the room: the exam was starting, and you hurried into the hall.

In the evening you found a pretty little box with chocolate near your door. Although you went to several dates in the last two months, you knew it weren't your suitors who sent you this.

"I don't know, really," you told Wanda, your friend and roommate, "it feels weird. I just broke up with him. And, uh, after all this love spell business I expected Steve to never look in my direction. It's not like he ever loved me either. I'm sure he must have felt terrible when he realized we were bound by the spell and nothing else."

"Still, it doesn't mean he can't have feelings for you. What if he likes you just because, you know, you are you? You're pretty, and smart." She retorted and smiled, eating one of the chocolates from the box you put on the floor, you two sitting on puffy bright pillows around it. "And he definitely gets a thorough check up every month to detect any charms or curses, so it can't be another love spell or anything."

"Yeah, I know," you muttered, upset.

You couldn't explain why it bothered you. Were you doubting his feelings? Perhaps. The spell stole 3 years of your life, and it was only natural to suspect Steve still being under the influence of magic. It could also be just out of habit, him returning to you just because it was something he grew accustomed to.

"Besides, he's gonna be a dark guardian soon. You're the ambitious type too, aren't you? I thought Steve would fit you better than Jake or Larry. In the end, they'll never be your equals, don't you think?"

Damn, she was right, she was so right it nearly made you irritated, and you quickly sipped your apple cider, taking a deep breath. You were too agitated for literally no reason.

"I don't know. It's just... well, after the spell was broken, I was mad, of course... but then there was hope I'd live differently, somehow... like there will be someone else for me, not just my perfect golden-haired boyfriend, you know?" Scratching your neck, you huffed, getting down on the pillows and closing your eyes. "I don't know if I want to be with good old Steve again."

"Love spells are tricky," Wanda shrugged her shoulders. "You changed a lot since the spell got broken. Maybe the real Steve was never your sweet little pet dog either. Are you sure you really know him?"

She was right again, and you threw a pillow at her, making her giggle.

Whatever. You'd think about Steve tomorrow. Now you were deadly tired, and the only thing you wanted was to drink your cider and discuss some silly rumors with Wanda.

The week went quickly: numerous projects and midterms were taking all your time, so the most you could do was to study together with your girls to have some fun. Sometimes Steve talked to you, wishing you good luck or just discussing something unimportant, but you could see clearly he was interested in you. It was both surprising and disturbing, although you did listen to Wanda, thinking it was alright to give Steve a chance. In the end, he never treated you wrong, and the love spell wasn't his fault. What if you'd start dating him even without love magic? It's not like it couldn't happen.

Next Monday professor Stark, whom you told of Steve's ritual, clicked his fingers, asking you to come see him, and when you came close, he told you with a grim expression on his face that stubborn Rogers finished the ritual. To your horror, he really seemed to devour the spirit he summoned, but when you asked Stark if Steve was in danger, professor barked a laugh, asking you if you forgot you were a witch and not a tooth fairy.

"You think dark guardians didn't do anything like that to themselves? Pfft, don't make me laugh, girl. You can't play safe if you're a witcher like Steve. Just be a dear and look after him, especially since it's kinda your fault he became so wild," professor said, and you stared at him, perplexed.

Your fault? How come it was your fault? You didn't remember asking Steve to do anything of the kind. In fact, you were actually worried about him! Even when you dated, you certainly didn't like it when he was risking his life. Why was it your fault?

Natasha reminded you that even under the spell you were still an ambitious witch, and one of your plans was to become a member of Supreme Council of Sorcerers, a powerful and ancient organization that consisted purely of witches. It had a great influence on the magic society, but, since many of its witches were centuries old, they stuck to old traditions most mages no longer cared about. One of the rules of council's witches was to have an equally strong partner or a partner who was stronger than them. Old hags believed if a witch was able to come to terms with someone as powerful as her, she possessed enough strength, wisdom, and patience to be a part of the council. You knew several witches were married to dark guardians, one to a vampire lord, and two more to necromancers. Although you didn't remember ever discussing it with him, what if Steve aimed at becoming dark guardian because at that time he was madly in love with you?

But he was no longer under the spell, you said, and Natasha just shrugged her shoulders. Maybe after 3 years of constant trainings he decided he would still go that way because it was too late to change anything, she supposed.

The possibility looked real to you, and you felt guilty. Damn, what did this stubborn guy get himself into? Whose spirit did he absorb? What was going to happen to him now?

Although you imagined Steve and you to never be close after that love spell business, surprisingly, you found yourself constantly thinking of him, meeting him, and even being kinda responsible for him. You wondered if he felt the same way towards you. You wouldn't be surprised if he did.

The next time you met Steve he was wearing an ashy black mantle with raven feathers on his shoulders, looking so majestic as if he were a king. Being so flashy wasn't in his nature, and you thought it was either a very useful magical artifact, or the influence of the spirit. You always wandered whose soul Steve devoured, but even Bucky didn't know, shrugging his shoulders whenever you asked him. There were too many mysteries around Rogers, and you didn’t like it.

"Have you heard Larry was cursed?" Wanda asked you quietly as you sat together in the auditorium, professor Pierce teaching you which spells to use to break through the giant serpent's scales.

You chocked on air.

"Larry what?"

"It's nothing serious, he just got a wolf's noise, that's all," she laughed, and you rolled your eyes, "but, imagine, even Pepper can't lift the curse! I heard she has no idea how long he'll have to walk around with his hairy grey nose."

Larry was among those guys you went out with, but if Jake was pretty shy, Larry was all about touching - you often had to scare him with a particularly nasty hex if he wouldn't take his hands off you.

"Who could do that to him, I wonder," Wanda directed her gaze somewhere above your head, up where Steve was sitting just behind you.

You could feel his eyes on your back as if he tried burning a hole in it.

The next two minutes you kept making notes - Pierce was turning into a literal monster if his students couldn't pass the exam with a mark he deemed high enough. Wondering when the break was going to be, you suddenly felt someone's warm fingers on the back of your neck, and immediately looked back, staring into Steve's handsome face. He carefully stroked your skin, never taking her eyes off you.

"The label was showing. I wanted to tuck it in," he smiled politely, leaving your blouse alone, but you knew it had nothing to do with the label or whatever he said.

Steve Rogers was shamelessly flirting with you.

"Wanda, your label is showing, too!" Sam tried reaching out to touch her back, but Pietro slapped his hands the very same moment.

"What do you think you're doing to my sister?!" He shouted with irritation, and when professor Pierce looked up your row, even giggling Wanda became quiet.

_________

Just to make sure you weren’t under any charms, you did a cleansing ritual that evening and found out you had a very simple congeniality spell casted on you, but it was so subtle it barely had any effect. You weren’t even sure it was Steve who did that. In fact, while you were certain he cursed Larry, you doubted Rogers would put a spell on you. The pain left by love magic was still there.

Then, what you felt for Steve was simply... slight affection or something?

Cut yourself some slack, girls said. So what if you liked Rogers a little bit? Was it a crime? He was far from the worst choice you could make even if you decided to go back to him. Just give yourself time, relax, and the decision will come to you naturally, they advised you, seeing you sulking.

They were right, and soon you found yourself enjoying Steve's presence. You didn't go as far as flirting with him, but just walking together and talking was nice enough. Wanda was right about him, too - free from a love spell, Steve Rogers was a different man, and it certainly didn't feel like you were talking to the same person you knew. It was a great relief. The memories of you and him together no longer hurt you.

"Did you know professor Gamora put us together for the next Combat class?" Steve smirked, and you raised your brow at him, walking by his side in the gardens.

Oh, this beefy prince with shoulders a mile wide thought he was so much stronger than you it was stupid to make you fight him. Ha! Of all people, he should have known you had some tricks up your sleeve: confident in your own powers, you weren't scared of him even the slightest bit.

"But you won't be too rough with me, will you?" You looked at him with puppy eyes, and the witcher melted, watching you with such soft expression on his face you almost felt guilty.

"Of course not!" He assured you immediately, and you saw your good old Steve, a true gentleman who would never hurt a lady - except those ones who tried clawing his eyes out.

You're going to have sooo much fun tomorrow, you thought as you softly run your hand up his shoulder, seeing Steve's blushing cheeks and chuckling. He wanted to play a game? Then he couldn't complain if you were going to play by your own rules.

The next day Gamora really put you together with him just like he said, but you were more or less prepared this time, shocked faces of your classmates only making you grin. What, did they think you were utterly harmless? Or was it because the rumor about Steve devouring a spirit was everywhere now? Winking at the guy who sent you a sweet smile, you rubbed your palms together, knowing well professor Gamora didn't mind when her students used tricks of any kind as long as they weren't prohibited by school rules.

"No magic higher than second level, no cold weapons, and you, dear," she looked directly at you, "get 10% to your final exam mark if you put your opponent down to the ground."

You heard excited whisper - a warrior witch rarely gave 10% up on her classes, and even 5% raise was considered a big deal. Why was she ready to give you whole 10%? Was it because Steve was a serious opponent or she just thought you'd find it particularly hard fighting the guy you shared a love spell with?

"One."

You immediately took your place opposite Steve.

"Two."

Both of you smiled, and you wondered if your plan was too cheeky. Seriously, was Steve even going to buy it? He was an experienced witcher, not some first-year student just out of highschool.

"Three."

He reacted quicker than you, and then next moment the man was ready to grab you with his hands, using an easy but effective binding spell to restrain your movements. You predicted his move, knowing it was his favourite tactic to fight someone he didn't want to fight, so the second he got close you grasped the fabric of his mantle and stood on your tip toes, giving him a light peck on the lips. Actually, you wanted just to blew air on his face and finish with dizzlying charms to quickly put him down, but Steve reached out to you faster than you thought, so you had to change your tactics immediately.

He froze on the spot with a surprised expression on his face, reaching out to you again for another kiss, but you had already put your palm on his chest, finishing Steve off with a numbing spell and carefully levitating his huge body to the ground where he laid, looking at you dumbfounded. You got him.

Hearing nothing, you swallowed nervously, hoping Gamora wasn't going to sent you off immediately for inappropriate behavior. The next moment she, however, bursted out laughing.

"This is what I call using your brain, kids. Learn!" she barked out a laugh and then turned to you. "Great job! It was barely half a minute. 10% are yours."

Steve groaned from the ground, and you sent him a cheeky smile.

"Professor, could you give her 10% more so she'd kiss me again?" he asked, and other students giggled behind your back as you stared at Steve with a smile.

Thank goodness, he wasn't mad at you for your trick.

"My, my, I didn't know you can be so bold!" she grinned. "But listen to a married woman, you better try a bouquet of roses or a nice restaurant. I can give you some tips to make the second kiss happen faster."

________

Now you laughed as much as everyone, even Steve shaking on the ground, giggling.

Part III

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodie-rin @yeolliedokai @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess

#dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #yandere #captain america #mcu fanfiction #mcu

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kimnjss · 3 years

Text

tricky part | knj

⤑ series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: fluff?? (idk, man. i think they’re cute.) ahem, some smut... nd we get a little angsty, of course.

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 8.1K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: (mentions of alcohol abuse). slight dirty talk, cursing, fingering, nipple play, handjob, unprotected sex, cumshot, doggy style, light hair pulling, multiple orgasms... i think that’s it.

⤑ chapter song: tonight (i wish i was your boy) - the 1975 (the entire song is namjoon is swear...)

⤑ A/N: hiiii! this is wicked late ., i took a nap today nd it was amazing . let me know what you think !! x

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 17:09

It takes longer than usual for you to get ready, stuck in the mirror contemplating whether or not what you're wearing is good enough. If maybe you should put your hair up instead of letting it fall freely. Would it be showing too much? But you wanted to show a little, right? This was a date after all, who didn't tease a little on the first date?

But this was Namjoon. Sensible, cautious, easily frazzled Namjoon. Would it turn him off? Or fluster him so he's showing off that cute dimpled smile of us. The one that he let slip when without even noticing it, cheeks flushing pink as he tried to avoid eye contact. Gosh, he was so cute!

Okay! Perfect solution, you're thinking as your eyes find the hair elastic on your dresser. You'd bring the hair tie and feel things out, read the room, and with the first desire to jump his bones, you'd tie your hair up. Giving him a perfect look at your shimmery collarbones, thank you Fenty, and the slope of your neck. No doubt he'd find himself thinking about pressing his lips against your skin at the sight of it.

Boys were simple. All of them. A mere flash of skin and they were putty in your hands. Joon was cute with it, though. So you'd let it slide.

Your phone lights up, humming against your sheets. His name flashes in bold, waking up the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Weird. He must be here, no doubt outside waiting for you right now. He'd think you looked nice, right? Grant you one of his lingering stares that he's always so quick to avert.

That's when you knew you caught his eye. Pride warms your chest each and every time you're catching him. It took a little bit more effort to get Namjoon to turn his head. Yet, he was still a boy at the end of it. He'd end up looking at you one way or another, it's all about how you present it.

Which is exactly why you were yellow. A yellow two-piece that highlights the best parts of you. And you're sure you've made the right decision when you catch the stutter in his step, eyes flickering from your face to your legs then back again. Forcing himself not to look away the entire time you're walking up to him, black platform heels carrying you with ease. Only a few inches below him with them on.

“Hi,” You're saying with a grin, hand reaching out to grasp his bicep. Giving it a little squeeze and watching the way his eyes go wide. He's wearing sweats but still looks so good. As if he's stood in front of you in a three-piece suit, although you might be exaggerating.

He doesn't shake you off but doesn't exactly relax in your touch either. Fingers tapping against his thigh and you can't help but wonder if he's holding himself back from touching you. Lame. “You're wearing yellow,” He says after a moment, stating it as fact rather than something that was intentionally done for him and his attention.

Eyes rolling on a laugh, you're nodding your head. “Yeah. You like yellow,”

“I do,” His nod is curt and his tone is military.

Huffing, while stepping forward, easily pulling him a bit close to you. “Okay, rule number on to this date...” Lifting a single finger for reference. His eyes flicker to it before he's looking back down at you. “You're not allowed to think tonight, got it? No analyzing, calculating. Weighing the options. Just do and talk, get loose.” Giving his shoulder a playful shake, you're shocked to hear the laugh that falls from his lips.

Like an actual, really pretty laugh. “Alright, deal.” A proud smile threatens to split your face when you feel his hand lift, hesitant at first but landing on the small of the back. Albeit, just to guide you, but it's still something. “Let's get going,” He's guiding you with the gentle hand on your back, barely touching you but you're stomach was doing backflips.

How quickly the roles reversed. Hands clasped in front of you, urging yourself to calm down. To stop acting like some thirteen year old who still hasn't had their first kiss. You were twelve years and eighteen kisses past that. Get it together.

“Where's your car?” Stepping on your tiptoes, attempting to peak up the street to spot it. “Actually, what kind of car do you even drive? I've never seen it?” Eyes shifting up toward him, a quizzical look on your face.

You're missing the soft, “I don't...” That falls from his lips because you're brain is working overtime to guess what car he could possibly drive. “Hm, you kinda look like a Chevy guy... maybe a Honda? But, I could be wrong. Definitely not a sports car, though.” You couldn't imagine Joon in one of those loud, low to the ground car.

Whipping through traffic as if where he had to go was much more important than all the other people on the road. Yeah, that didn't fit.

He's taking offense to this for some reason, nose scrunching, and hands finding his hips. His steps even come to a halt. “Hey. Why not a sports car?”

You're letting out a laugh, not at him, of course. Just at how adorable he looks right now. Actually pouting, with his arms crossed in the middle of the sidewalk. You've never seen him like this, not even sure where this new Joon came from. But he might be even cuter than the Joon you knew and had a huge crush on.

Moving toward him, not even bothering to stop yourself from poking his pouted lip. “Come on, that's totally out of character. You're practical and sensible. You wouldn't splurge on a sports car, that's not even durable. Those cars get torn apart in accidents,” He's not really mad, obviously. Which is why it doesn't take long for him to lose the face.

“So which one is it? Honda or Chevy?”

A large arm is dropping around your shoulder, tucking you into his side as the two of you continue your timed steps down the sidewalk. “Neither. I don't have a car. Or my license,” Eyes nearly popping out of your head with his words, stopping in your tracks to get a good look at him. Just in case you might've heard him wrong.

But he shows no signs of correcting himself or clarifying what he had just said. “Wait. So how are we going to get there!?” Did he expect you to walk!? All the way to Daejeon? In these shoes... they were cute, but not the most comfortable. And they didn't need to be because they weren't meant for walking 100 miles at a time!

“We're gonna take the train, of course. How else?” He's not even looking like he knows he's talking nonsense.

Like, honestly. Did he expect you to ride a gross train dressed like this!? What if you got robbed? Or kidnapped? Or worse, thrown up on!? This outfit was irreplaceable, one of a kind. No way could you take it on a train, that wouldn't do. “No. That won't be necessary. I'll just call one of my drivers, they'll come get us,” You've got your phone out before you're even finishing your sentence.

Namjoon is quick to pluck the device from your fingers, a sly smile playing on his features as he tucks it into his pocket. “Let those people spend time with their families. It's Sunday. There won't even be that many people,” Two firm hands placed on your shoulders, he's turning you effortlessly. “The train, it'll be fun.”

“You're the only guy, in the universe that thinks riding the train will be fun.” He's laughing again and it's not cute as it was a few minutes ago. “Oh no, I meant fun for me. You're gonna hate it,”

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 17:37

Just as you predicted, the train is gross. And sticky. Crowded and sweaty. Joon holds you close as you weave through the sea of people, fingers laced with yours. Although you know it's purely for survival purposes, the flutter in your heart still rises from feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

You try not to make a huge deal about it. People rode the train every day and considering how many of them were in here, they've all survived. You'd be fine. Especially with this six-foot angel clearing the way for you at every turn.

Joon finds a seat for the both of you against the wall. Close with your thighs pressed together and he still hasn't released your hand from his grasp. It's cozy beside him, warm. Leaning your weight on to him, you try to be subtle but probably fail. He's concentrating on something on his phone and from the quick peak you were able to sneak, you see he's checking on your reservation for tonight.

Stomach flipping at the tiny fact he made a reservation for you two. It's so Namjoon to want to be triple prepared for anything, but the fact that it's in your favor makes you happy. No idea why, but that was the truth of the matter. More often than not happy when you were around him.

Even cramped in this stinky train, his hand in yours was enough to convince you, you were in the back of a limo. The unfocused chatter around you replaced with soft music that you'd play. Probably something he likes to listen to. His taste in music was quickly becoming yours the more time the two of you spent together.

He's dropping your hand for some reason that you don't realize until you're looking up to see him standing. Offering his spot to some brat with a broken leg. What the heck? Were you supposed to hold hands with this kid? Up without a word, didn't even bother to ask if you wanted him to get up.

Joining the other people standing, holding on to the railing and you're quickly deciding you don't like the distance. He watches as you stand to your feet, nose brushing against his chin. “Sit,” Gesturing to your now empty spot, earning a raised brow from him.

“Come on, Yn. Your feet are gonna hurt. Just relax,” He tries to lower you back into your spot, but you're moving to the side with a shake of your head. “I'll be fine. Just sit,” Catching the stubborn glint in your eye, just begging him to argue, he chooses to drop it. Switching spots with you and sinking into the empty spot.

Not even a second after he's settling into the cushion, you're dropping yourself onto his lap. Arm wrapped around his shoulders, legs between his. Bum pressed firmly into his thigh. “Did you really think I was going to stand?” You laugh. He doesn't even look the least bit surprised, eyes rolling – but you catch the smile on the corner of his lips.

His hand finds the outer part of your thigh, holding your body steady as the car jostles. He doesn't move it even after the machine has settled, has even taken to tapping out a rhythm against your skin.

It's nice. Your new favorite song.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:17

You had to hand it to the guy, Kim Namjoon knew how to put a date together. Pure perfection from beginning to end, you're not sure if it's his careful attention to detail or the small possibility that he wanted to impress you... you've decided to go with the latter.

The entirety of dinner was spent talking about everything and nothing. Actually getting to know each other aside from the surface level, 'I make good music and you screen it while balancing your massive crush on me,'. He was telling you about the time he first met Yoongi: second year of high school, Yoongi was a really cool Senior, the type of cool guy that everyone knows, but like doesn't talk to anyone. He found Joon making out with some cheerleader in the band room, her hand down the front of his jeans... and made it all of his business to tease him about it for the rest of the semester.

Never would you have deemed Joonie as the type to take part in such excessive PDA, and although he insists it was not his idea... well, agree to disagree.

You were even telling him about the first time you got blackout drunk, which resulted in you being banned from every last Shake Shack. The only thing you remember from that night was getting in the car to head to the club, already started pre-gaming beforehand. But as Jungkook likes to tell it, you were a melting pot of 'types of' drunks.

Started the night trying to fistfight the bouncer, after only fifteen minutes in the club, which resulted in you... and all of your friends being kicked out. Went from not-so-discreetly trying to mount your boyfriend at the time, Jackson, to crying on the bathroom floor Shake Shack all before you were puking in the booth, after swearing (a million times) that you 'weren't gonna throw up'.

Followed by a screaming match between you and Hoseok as he apologized a thousand times over to the employee he had to call over for the mess, trying to assist her while she tried her best to keep a smile on her face. Jungkook carried you to the car, full-blown had to haul you over his shoulder as you screamed curses at your brother.

You don't remember any of that, though. Next thing you remember from that night after getting in the car to leave, was waking up to the sound of loud video games, hanging half-naked off the side of Jackson's bed.

You're more embarrassed than you though, telling that story out loud. how bad you used to be. That was the worst of it, but the other times weren't too great either. Of course, you've calmed down a bit. Really tried each and every time you were sent away to clean up your act. And you were good for a few months after you came back, and then you were not.

Surprisingly, Joon doesn't look disgusted when you tell him. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. Either he's extremely understanding or he was expecting your most embarrassing story to be something of the sort. You hope for the former but suspect the latter.

In reality, though. Namjoon found himself trying to figure out just what could've been going on in your life that you felt like any of that would help. He now knew with you there was always something hidden, a reason to your behavior that you oftentimes liked to brush off. Must've been bad. You probably had a hard time.

The highlight of the night, though, was hands down the play. You're not even sure if he knew what it was about when he chose it, but you were falling in love from the moment the current went up. Characters so vivid and engaging, dealing with real-life shit all while living in fear of the darkness that looms over their tiny village.

It wasn't hard for you to get totally immersed in the show, laughing along, getting upset, crying. And Joon stays seated by you the entire time, holding on to your hand. Not so sure when he picked it up, but he hasn't let it go in a while. Not that you were complaining. You liked the tiny shocks that followed every brush of his fingers.

He smiles when you laugh, laughs when you get upset, and wipes your tears when you cry. You're so sure, he missed the entire show.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:20

“You know, my best friend's an actor. Kinda a big deal at his agency... I could talk to him?” Joon throws in casually as the two of you make your way out of the theater, talking as he tosses his empty popcorn carton into the garbage. As if he didn't just drop some life-changing news.

You've heard of his friend, Kim Taehyung. Was an extra in his very first big drama role, a historical one where he faced an untimely death. The two of you never crossed paths and shared zero scenes together, but it was still pretty cool. To you. He didn't know you from a hole in the wall and the last thing you'd do was act like anyone's biggest fan.

But, this? What Namjoon was offering... that could be huge. The start that you needed and you wouldn't even have to go through your father. You could do it all on your own... kinda. “Oh! That would be amazing, Joon!? Why didn't...”

As quickly as the excitement hits you, it's being knocked right out of your body. The job that you already have and everything else that surrounded it. No way could you accept this. “Actually,” You're forcing a smile for Namjoon to see, “Let's put a pin in it. I want to focus on the company,” You wonder if it sounds as robotic as it feels.

“Why? You hate that place?” His hand has found yours again, arms swinging slightly as you walk. There's this curious look on his face like you're not making any sense. And you're not.

Why wouldn't you jump on the first chance to ditch that hell hole? The opportunity was right in front of your face, so why wouldn't you take it? You must be an idiot. Stockholm Syndrome? “Can I tell you a secret?” You're whispering despite the fact it's just the two of you on the street.

“Sure,” Gently, he's pulling you just a bit off of the path. Figuring whatever you have to tell him might be something he wants to sit down for, so he's getting comfortable on a bench, tugging you down beside him.

Not once letting go of your hand. “Hoseok is putting out an album in a few months. He's been juggling that and work-work. The time when my dad came down to talk to me... about the whole Hyungwon thing, he said he'd tank the album if I didn't start acting right,” That actually does surprise Joon, eyes going wide as a barely audible gasp leaving his lips.

You can just about guess what he's thinking, 'what kind of father...?'. And the easy answer was, yours. Your type of father would. Your type of father has. “That's why I need to stay focused. I can't screw up, he's been working so hard. I wouldn't be able to live with myself I ruin everything for him. Again.” That was a story for another time.

“Yn. That's fucked up. Does Hobi know?”

Scoffing, your eyes roll automatically. “Of course not and don't tell him. He thinks our dad is the best. 'Strict, but the best'.” Your tone changes slightly to mock his deeper voice. “Thinks he's hard on me only because of how I act and while I know that doesn't help, that wouldn't change anything. We're all just pawns in his game. His stupid Legacy.”

It's weird because you don't even sound sad. Just numb. Like you've accepted that this was how the way things were and this was how they were going to be. He wished there was something he could do, stand up to your dad for you, tell him all the things you're afraid to. But that would be stupid, for him and for you. It wasn't his place and he'd only make it worse. No matter how badly he wanted to just step in, there was really only one thing he could do.

Your hand is much smaller in his, soft and cute. Nails painted a pretty deep blue to compliment the yellow of your dress. Squeezing softly, he's lifting his lips into a smile for you to see. And since he's been trying to take your advice and stop thinking so much, he's lifting your hand. Pressing feather-like kisses against your knuckles.

The gesture so sickeningly-sweet, you're not sure if you should puke or cry. Or both. He's looking up at you, smiling really wide before he's moving closer, lips finding your forehead making you feel warm all over. Butterflies holding a wrestling match in your stomach and you might just burst into tears.

“I can't interfere with your family. Especially when you're not asking me to. Just know, if you ever want to start doing what you really want I'll support it. I'll support you.” You feel the pressure building behind your eyes, the thickness in your throat. All over three stupid words that you had no idea you've been waiting to hear.

It's overwhelming. Desperately fighting back the wetness that teases your waterline. With a hard blink and a huff of air – you're pushing a smile onto your face. Aware of how fake it looks, but it'll have to do as you lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” You're grinning, hand patting his knee before you're hopping up from your spot beside him on the bench.

A hand extended down to him. “Come on, dessert on me!” You giggle because it feels right. And he takes your hand, allowing you to pull him from to his feet. Tugging him along behind you with your face pointed to the night sky. Not saying anything until you're sure your voice won't break.

And even then it's a quiet mumble, “You've earned something sweet.”

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:59

Your hair has gone up. Revealing the slope of your neck and the shimmer on your collarbones. And as you predicted, Joon watches you through the entire process. Lips wrapped around your ice cream cone, holding it in place as your hands move quickly to pull your hair out of your face. His gaze dropping to your mouth as you lick mess the treat his left from your lips.

Hook. Line. And sinker.

“Do you have any weird kinks?” You don't even look at him when you say it, focus on creating a peak on your ice cream cone.

Joon's choking a cough out around his shaved ice, eyes blinking hard as he clears his throat, lifting his gaze up to you. “Excuse me, what!?” An easy laugh falls from your lips, shoulders shrugging slightly. Taking pride in how easily you could fluster. “You know... weird kinks. Things that get you going, but are kinda weird,”

“Like a fetish?” You're shrugging, barely interested in the choice of word. “I'm sure there's a difference, but for the sake of this. Sure,”

He had to have something, there was no way he didn't. Everyone had something and you refused to believe that he was even composed and well thought out in that area. There had to be something that made him lose his cool. Had to be.

“Uhm,” He's clearing his throat, cheeks seeming to grow darker the more time you spent staring at him. “I wouldn't say it's weird, but I like...” His attention falls to his dessert, twirling his spoon around in the frozen shavings. Would you think it was too weird? Consider it a deal-breaker and decide to not talk to him again. You probably wouldn't even care, there wasn't much that you cared about he was finding.

But, you could surprise him. And what if... wait, why was he even stressing about this in the first place!? “Why are you even asking me this?” Such a random topic interrupting your peaceful silence staring at the water.

Again, you lift your shoulders in a shrug. “I'm curious. Here, I'll tell you mine.” You pause to flash a breathtaking grin up at him. “Put your hand up,” Joon doesn't even hesitate to lift his palm, heart stuttering when you're pressing yours against his. As if you're comparing sizes and he can't help but curl his fingers down into the space that's left.

“See that? What you just did? Drives me crazy. And also...” Hand dropping from his to lay flat on his chest and on reflex his muscle is tensing, pecs jumping underneath your touch. It's actually so sexy you contemplate dropping to your knees right then and there. You suppress the urge, but don't make any moves to lifting your hand. “Big hands? And muscles. Phew. Throw in a pair of cute dimples and it's over,”

It's obvious at this point that you're literally referring to him, not intentionally of course. He just happened to check every last one of those boxes. “Why's that?” He's staring at you with these eyes that you've never seen before. Dark and filled with want.

You liked it.

“Makes me feel cute and small, I guess. Like if you... or any guy, but let's just say you, were to use your big hands to pick me up and hold me there while we-” His eyes go wide when he catches on to the end of your sentence, rushing out a frantic, 'Oh okay, I get it!'. Watch as you bursting into a fit of giggles.

He ignores you, taking to peering around the bridge, checking for anyone within earshot that might've heard what you were about to say. Only to find that you two were the only people out here. Unless he was worried about judgmental glares from the birds, you were fine.

“So...” He's starting only after he's done his full scenery check. “You like feeling small, then? That's interesting,” Forever impossible to read, no idea what he meant by interesting, but as always you were running with it.

Steering this night, which had been an amazing date, in a direction that was a little less PG. Brow arched and a smirk playing on your lips, you move into his space. Hand sliding down the front of his body, meeting his waist. Holding a soft grip on the fabric of his sweater, you rise onto your toes, nose just inches from his.

“And? What do you plan to do with this information?” Could swear a small gasp falls from his lips, feeling your free hand tug on the long drawstring of his pants.

There are a million and one thoughts running through his mind right now. Every last one of them revolving around you. How good you look underneath that skirt, how good you smell standing this close to him. The way he could see the faint freckles on your cheeks, faded from your makeup. Yet, through all of his mangled thoughts, there's one that stands out amongst all of them.

You're so beautiful.

And not in the ways that you'd think. Yes, your face fit the standard, and the confidence you carried yourself with was more than deserved, but there was more. Beautiful underneath all of that and he could see it and even with this new stiffness tenting at the front of his jeans, it's all he can focus on.

Soft giggles fill his ears, coming from you realizing the way he was staring at you. Not saying a single word, just looking. “You're stalling. What's yours?” Taking a step back, you allow him a chance to breathe. Just barely noticing the twitch of his arm, ready to pull you close to him again.

“Okay, fine.” Joon's saying with a roll of his eyes, not the annoyed one that you've grown used to. It's playful, cute paired with the smile on his lips. “I like...” Large hand reaches out, landing firmly on your hip, effectively catching you off guard but he doesn't even give you a second to react before he's twisting your back toward him.

A shiver dancing down your spine as the tips of his fingers gently trace the link in the middle of your back. Actually having to bite down on your lip to keep from any noises slipping out in response to his light touch. “That. It looks sexy,”

Now you know how he feels when you tease him. Breathless and flustered all because he touched your back!? Come on, it was about time you got your shit together. Turning in his grasp, your features morph feigning confusion. “You like backs?”

“No! Not just backs. I Mean the dip... and if there's dimples back there. That's always a plus,” He says with a shrug, but you know exactly what he's doing. It was your game, basically invented it.

But judging from the flutter in your chest, he was better at it. “I have dimples back there,” It sounds dumb to your ears, like 'duh, he knows that stupid.. that's why he said it,' but you can't think of anything else to say. Thoughts clouded with how good being touched by him felt and coming up with ways to get more of that.

And he's moving as if he's read your mind, arm wrapping around your waist. Pulling your body to him with this newfound boldness that has a shocked gasp falling from your lips. “I know you do,” His voice is so deep and so sexy, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. You could spend hours just listening to him talk, no doubt. God, you needed to get it together.

“Oh, yeah? You've been sneaking peaks?”

He nods. Like, doesn't even bother to try and hide behind some half-assed explanation why he might've noticed, just owns it. He's so hot. “I'm very observant,” His words have you wondering what else he's noticed about you. How much time did he spend just 'observing', as he liked to call it.

You could figure that out later, there were much more pressing matters at hand right now. Kissing him. Through with the back and forth, you needed to feel his lips against yours. The fragmented memory of the first and only time was quickly fading, you needed something fresh.

With your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, you lean into him. Chin tilted up and eyes slowly falling closed, you're just inches from his mouth when that deep voice of his is breaking through. “Are you gonna kiss me?”

“Wow, you are observant,” Breathing out a laugh, you're nodding eyes lifting to find his. He even looked good from this close. “Wait.” His quick movements startle you, a not so cute squeal filling the night air as he bends to lift you, effortlessly wrapping your legs around his waist.

You're both laughing, like side aching chuckles. And you're certain you've never seen him like this before. Eyes forming crescent moons as loud snickers fall from his grinning lips. He's pretty. You're so dazed by that simple fact that you don't notice the way his laughter has died down into soft breaths.

Not until silence is falling over both of you and he's leaning up to press his lips against yours. Large hand lifting to tangle in your hair as he kisses you.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 23:29

And he doesn't stop kissing you. Not on the train home where you sit on his lap and he swallows every last one of your whines. Not on the walk to your place where he keeps his arm around your shoulder, occasionally leaning down to press kisses against your cheeks. Even stood at your doorstep, you're still like teenagers who just discovered making out.

“Do you want to come up?” You're murmuring against his lips, sentences barely coherent through the push of your lips.

He's registering your words a few moments after you've said them, pulling back to reveal the worried expression on his features. Doesn't say anything, though. Like he's stuck between taking you up on your offer and whatever concern is plaguing his mind.

And then it's hitting you. “Hoseok's out with some girl. Just in case you're worried about that,” You don't miss the way his face relaxes, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Pulling a blase expression, moving into your space again. “Why would I be worried about that?”

Eyes rolling, you let out a laugh. “Oh, my mistake.” You mock, turning to unlock your front door. Joon is following steps behind you into the house, no sign of Hoseok in sight. Not like he'd really care, on Namjoon's part. Just give you an ear full about how your actions would affect the company.

So, you're glad he's out. In no mood to hear any of that tonight. “Do you want a glass of wine?” Namjoon is following you into the kitchen, nodding along to your words.

He just can't seem to take his eyes off you. Followed your movements from the pantry to the cabinets all the way to the island where you poured alcohol into glasses for the two of you. Watched the way your lips tickled the neck of the bottle, sucking up the droplets that had spilled, dark eyes finding his the moment you're pulling back.

Daring him. To do something. Anything. Joon knew he needed to be bold. Impulsive. Throw caution to the wind and deal with the consequences later. It's how you got what you wanted all the time and right now, he wanted you.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he's rounding the island. Closing the space between the two of you. Hand cupping the side of your face as he wraps an arm around your waist. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, rhythmically. “I don't want wine,” Your heart hammers in your chest.

“What do you want?” You ask, although, you already know the answer.

He takes to showing you rather than telling you, using the grip he holds around your waist to lift your body onto the counter. Stepping into the space between your legs before he's covering your mouth with his.

This kiss is much different from the others, no longer testing the waters. There's determination behind each movement of his lips. Both hands gripping your waist, pulling your body forward until his hips are pressed to yours. His tongue slips past his soft lips to graze your bottom lip. And you're opening up for him without a moment of hesitation, fingers tangling in his messy locks, and pulling – a low groan emerging from the back of his throat.

He's pushing his body flush against yours, hips lifting rightly and you feel the twitch of his cock through his sweats. Sweet moans fall from your lips with every roll of his hips, deliberately pushing down desperate to feel more of him. Your senses are filled with him. The taste of his tongue, the sweet smell of his cologne, how good it feels to have him pressed up against you.

Strong hands roam around your body, gripping the fabric of your skirt tight enough to have it inching up the smooth skin of your thighs. Gently cupping the back of your neck to hold your head steady as he licks into your mouth. He can't seem to make up his mind, greedily wanting to touch all of you at once.

You're meeting everyone of his upward thrusts with a downward roll of your hips, moans growing louder between the two of you with each brush of your most sensitive parts. And you want more. Legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, you needed more.

“Fuck, princess.” He's gasping out, not leaving a moment to spare for you to marvel at the pet name that fell from his lips so easily. His mouth makes steady work on your neck, suck red blotches into your skin as the palm of his hand moves down the front of your body. Sneaking underneath the hem of your skirt, your body jolts when he's pressing the tips of his fingers to your slit through the soft fabric of your panties.

Pretty moans fill the room as he teases you, fingers tight in his hair. Heady becoming heavy for your shoulders as the pleasure he's ensuing washes over you. “Namjoon,” You're gasping, hips bucking up when he's pressing his fingers against your sensitive clit. Above the cotton, but each stroke has electricity cruising through your veins.

He chuckles as your whines become more insistent, hips following the movement of his fingers. “That feel good?” Head bobbing frantically, your legs spread wider for him. So sure, you're soaked all the way through from the way he's palming roughly at your panties. He's confirming your thoughts with a groan and a breathy, “You're so fucking wet,”

“Please, Joon. More.” Panting as your hips lift up toward him. He's grinning wide, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of your neck before he's nudging your panties out of the way. “So greedy,” He teases, at the same time his fingers find your clit. He's pressing lazy circles into the sensitive nub, taking his time despite the needy roll of your hips. “Tell me what you want,” Dark eyes travel up the length of your body to your face, you don't even bother to mask the moan that slips at the sight.

An experimental finger teases your entrance, sneaking in past the first knuckle before quickly pulling out and repeating the same action. If it wasn't for the solid stiffness pressed against your thigh, you'd guess that he was torturing you for the hell of it. But judging from the steady rut of his hips, he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

You couldn't wait any longer, though. This moment has plagued your thoughts since the first time you were meeting him. What it would be like to be with him like this. Have him fuck you. You'd surely die if it wasn't now. “Fuck me,” The words come out more whiny than you originally intended but, hey. “Please, Namjoon.”

“Soon, princess.” He promises, sinking his middle finger into your tightness. Eyes flickering between your bodies so he can watch the way the single-digit disappears within your walls. So fascinated with the movement of his own fingers and egged on with your pretty moans, he's quickly pushing another finger in.

Namjoon's mouth finds yours, swallowing every last one of your hushed moans as he fucks into you. Scissoring you open with his long fingers, free hand tugging at the bottom of your top until it's around your waist, tits spilling out. He's groaning against your lips as his palm cups you from underneath, thumb lifting to brush against your nipple.

His head is lowering until he's able to latch his lips around the hardening bud. His sharp teeth graze over it slightly, gentle tongue washing over the slight pinch of his bites. You're whimpering at the feeling of his thumb pressing into your clit, back falling against the cool countertop as your hips move in tandem with his fingers.

It's not long before he's nudging a third finger past your walls, lips moving to mouth on the other side. Thumb moving expertly over your clit while his fingers provide such a delicious stretch, you're squirming beneath him. Searching for something to grip onto as the pressure begins to build in the pit of your stomach.

You take to tugging his hair, pushing his face against your chest as your back arches off of the counter. Wanton moans filling the room, you're being so loud but you can't find the strength to quiet down. Not while he's making you feel this good. And then all at once, he's pushing in deeper, fingers curling and brushing against that rough patch of skin hidden deep inside of you.

“Oh, fuck! Don't stop, don't stop.” You're chanting over and over, hips rocking into his palm and Joon has no plans of stopping. Not when you sound like that, each whine and whimper shooting straight to his cock. He feels the way your walls flutter around his fingers and he's quickly lifting his head to watch your face.

There's a sheen layer of sweat on your forehead. Eyes rolled back as your lashes flutter, lips slightly pursed. Jaw falling slack, a breathless gasp slipping at the same time he feels a gush of wetness surrounding his fingers. Incoherent mumbles of thanks fall from your lips as your body shakes. He keeps his fingers buried inside of you, thrusting slowly until your words are dying down to soft breaths.

Opting to give you the time you may need to regain your composure... which only lasts a few seconds before you're sitting up. Arms and legs pulling him toward you. “Fuck, that was so good.” You say through a laugh, mouth finding his in a sloppy kiss as you work to pull his sweatshirt from his body.

Joon follows your lead, working on tugging his sweats out of the way. Your soft hand meets his, gently pushing it out of the way and dipping into the front of his boxers. Palm closing around his thick shaft and your eyes are going wide, fingers not being able to meet around the base.

“Holy, fuck...” Your hand drags over his length, more so measuring him than anything. Excitement igniting in your chest the longer it takes for your hand to meet the tip. Which is leaking with precum at this point, you feel it when your palm finally covers the tip and then use it to make moving your hand back down easier.

His hips follow the movement of your hand, attempting to fuck into the opening your palm created. Spaced out as the pleasure slowly clouds his mind. He looked so good. Chest and stomach flexing as he moves, shining underneath the dull kitchen lights. Brows furrowed and jaw clenched, making dimples appear at the sides of his mouth.

Your free hand slides down the front of his body until the tips of your fingers are brushing against his balls. Massaging them underneath the slight pressure while your wrist twists over his cock. “Yn, baby. Wait... fuck,” His hips are stuttering to a stop, hand reaching down to still the movement of your palm.

“I won't last,” A soft pink dusts his cheeks as he looks up at you, eyes glossed over and barely focused. He's letting out a breathless laugh before he's leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I wanna fuck you first,”

The admission is waking up something entirely different inside you. Something you can't easily place and are in no mood to decipher. Instead, you grin, returning the kiss to his lips before grinning. “Fuck me, please.”

That's all he needs to hear before he's taking a step back from you, not giving you a moment to feel his absence before he's sliding you from the counter. Hands on your hips to turn your back to him, his large hand resting on the middle of your back. “Bend over,” Voice deep in your ear, you'd very much walk off the edge of a cliff if he was asking you like that.

You bend forward without any protest, the cool granite pressing against your exposed nipples. Joon holds a hand just above your ass, the other wrapped around the base of his cock – guiding himself toward your aching core. His thick head nudges against your tight hole and you both gasp as you swallow him in.

He takes his time, allowing you to feel every inch as he slips in. And you don't miss the way his thumb has moved to rest in the indent just above the swell of your ass. Pulling your body toward him with his grip. His huffed breath tickling your back the moment he's bottoming out.

Palms formed fists beside you, concentrating on your breathing as you get used to the feeling of being stretched this way. Slowly, he's pulling out until the head is catching at your entrance then he's pushing his way back in, your body sliding up on the counter with the movement. The stuttered movement of his hips slowly shifts into a steady rhythm that has a string of moans falling from your lips.

Strong, bruising thrusts into your backside paired with the gruff groans that escape his throat. He's so deep, the tip of his cock nudging against your g-spot with each thrusts forward. “Fuck, look how perfectly you take my cock, baby.” He groans, eyes glued to the way your lips are wrapped around him.

All you can muster back in response is a weak whine, a garbled cry of big he was... or how good he feels. Mind nothing but mush at this point, the overwhelming pleasure from the way he was fucking, softening your brain. Either way, he takes the incoherent noises as a compliment, speeding up the snap of his hips.

You all about lose it when he's reaching down to grip your hair, lifting your body onto his, keeping a steady movement of his hips as he reaches around you to find your clit. Rolling it between his knuckles until he's feeling that familiar squeeze around his shaft. Soaking up every whimper and every cry as he brings you closer and closer to release.

“You gonna cum again for me, baby?” Gasping out, your head bobs up and down, back arching in hopes to steal more than what he was willing to give you. “Please, make me cum.” He can feel the way your walls flutter around him, the whine in your voice. And since he's inclined to give you whatever you want, Joon's angling his hips in a way that he knows will make you cum.

And it's not long before the pressure is snapping in the pit of your stomach, loud cries filling the room as your hips lift into a shake. Walls clenched so tight around his cock, it's enough to nudge him over the edge. He fucks into you with great fervor, leaning your body back onto the counter as his hips snap against yours.

Thrusts becoming sloppy and untimed as he feels himself falling apart, an odd mixture of curses and your name falling from his lips as he feels his body tense. He's pulling out as a hurried afterthought, hand acting as a lame substitute for your wet core as he strokes himself to completion. Spilling onto your back with a strained groan.

And then the kitchen goes silent, nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths and the hum of the fridge filling the room. Neither of you says anything, both trying to come back to your senses. A few moments pass before he's hearing the soft sound of your giggle, body rising off your stomach to turn and face him. He looks so dazed and fucked out, cheeks flushed and eyes blown. Hair a mess and breath ragged. He looked so hot.

A hand finds the back of his neck, fingers tangling into the soft hair there. Joon's grinning when his eyes find yours, an arm wrapping around your waist. Pulling you closer, because it never felt like you were close enough. “We just fucked,” You state the obvious, can't find it in yourself not to.

It was nice. You liked it. You liked him. Everything about him, you just found yourself liking. His laugh. His smile. How easily he was annoyed. The cute dimples. The sound of his voice. You liked him.

“Yeah, we did.” He's replying, a little breathless but he still manages to lean down to capture your lips with his. A short kiss that has you leaning up, silently asking for me. He denies you with a cute shake of his head. “Let's go upstairs. I wanna go down on you,” Okay, bold Joon was something you were definitely going to have to get used to.

He's twirling you around when you don't move to lead him, large hand dropping to tap against your ass cheek, pulling a giggled squeal from your lips. “Ah!” You're laughing when he's reaching to do it again, instead taking hold of his hand. Fingers easily intertwining as you tug him behind you.

His back pressed to yours, cock growing hard against your backside as you lead him up the stairs and into your room. The sound of laughter only growing between the two of you.

Yeah, you liked him a lot.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 23:58

Your body is warm against his, back pressed to his chest. Soft moans filling the air as he holds you close, pushing into you, chasing yet another release. This time in your bed. With you in his arms and it feels different. It feels nice. It makes him wonder... what's next? If there's something more for him to hope for.

He wanted to be with you, to put it simply. Never would've imagined it'd be you, but now he can't imagine it being anyone else. But things just sometimes worked out that way. Namjoon wanted to be yours, but in turn, he wanted you to be his.

Somehow, he felt like that might be the tricky part of it all.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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honeymooneyy · 3 years

Text

my sirius

summary: sirius loses his memories due to a potion mishap and james fails to tell him that he’s been dating remus for two years

Sirius had never really been good at potions.

He wasn’t one to follow the directions, and that reflected in his potion-making skills. He liked to make changes to the recipe, despite his lack of skills to make executive decisions like that.

So when he had been brewing a particularly tricky potion with James - one that renders the drinker void of any memories for an hour, he probably shouldn’t have tweaked the recipe.

But as Sirius stared down at the murky green goop, he wished for some pizazz. So he took matters into his own hands. A funky potion like this should look a lot cooler, he decided. Granted, it probably wasn’t a good decision to add that mystery white powder in the back of the cupboard.

The second it touched the surface of his potion, it erupted out and onto Sirius. What happened next, was utter chaos.

Slughorn was screaming at James to scourgify the cauldron, which he did with a shaky wave of his wand. Remus and Peter were on the floor in a fit of laughter, much like the rest of the class - even Snape was smiling. And Sirius, well poor Sirius wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. Or who he was.

He turned to the tan boy next to him, who’s dark eyes were locked on his, worry evident in them. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Sirius?”

Serious?

“What?” Was the only reply he could muster. What was happening? What was serious? Who was this boy, and why did he look so concerned?

“Did you, y’know, get any in your mouth?” The boy questioned, tilting his head a bit. His glasses reflected a bit when he did so, no longer allowed him to see his eyes.

“Who are you?”

James deflated, turning to the man who was quivering in the corner. “Professor?”

“It’s all fine,” The supposed Professor announced, holding his hands up. “I have a couple counteractive potions. James, son, what did he put in there?”

“Er, I’m not sure, I didn’t see.” The boy, James, turns back to their cauldron before reaching for a small bottle of white powder. “I think it was this.”

The Professor squints at the bottle before sighing. “I’m not entirely sure what that was. We could try all three of the counter acting potions? They don’t mess with one another, and I’m sure one of them will work. Alright, I think we’ve had enough of this, class dismissed early, James stay here with Sirius. Please clean up properly!”

The class began to put their materials away, whispering different cleaning spells as to not disturb the silence that had descended upon the class. Sirius assumed his name must be Sirius and James must not have been speaking of the emotion earlier. He stood at the small table with the dark cauldron, awkwardly shifting his weight as the Professor sifted through his drawers.

In the end, he pulled out three small vials and handed them to James who brought them to Sirius. He flashed him a bright grin. “Drink up!”

Sirius didn’t ask very many questions, though he felt as if he was bursting with them. He simply tilted his head back to swallow the liquids back, one after the other, cringing at the taste of the last one.

James and the Professor continued to stare at him and Sirius stared back.

“What’s my name?” The Professor questioned after a moment of silence.

“I don’t- I don’t know, sorry,” Sirius apologized, his ears burning as he shrunk under their inquisitive gazes.

James sighed but the Professor didn’t seem to put off. “No worries, Black. I’ll take a look at that powder and I should have an antidote whipped up soon enough. Besides, if too much didn’t go wrong with your potion, you should get your memories back within the hour. James, why don’t you take him down to the medical wing to wait?”

He must’ve messed up the potion because an hour later, he was still unknowing to who he was.

James had filled him in on where he was - Hogwarts - and who he was - Sirius Black - but hadn’t given him too much information. He had assured that he’d get his memories back soon enough so there was no point. But the outcome was starting to look pretty bleak and soon enough, the nice nurse lady was sending Sirius away with James seeing as nothing could be done.

“It’ll be fine, Sirius, Slughorn will get you back to normal soon enough. I reckon you’ll remember everything by tomorrow, no worries. And Remus and Peter will love this!” James seemed extremely enthusiastic, despite the fact that his best friend had no memories.

“Does this sort of thing happen often?” Sirius was barely keeping up with James’ quick pace as he tried to absorb the castle he seemed to be in.

“Losing your memories? Not to any of us, but I’m surprised it hasn’t happened yet. We’re always getting into trouble. We’re kinda known for our pranks.”

James seemed pretty proud and Sirius smiled at the thought of pranks.

“Anyway, we’re in Gryffindor. There’s four houses, but I don’t think you need to know the others, right now. The password is Ficklepuffs, don’t forget that or else you can’t get in.”

Sirius nodded, mouthing the word and hoping he’ll be able to remember it.

“Okay, let’s not stay in the common room too long. Better if you don’t have to deal with all the questions. Let’s go to our dorm room. We share it with Remus and Peter.”

Sirius followed him up the stairs wordlessly, ignoring the stares from the others in the common room. James pushed a door open and Sirius stepped into the warm room, his eyes flitting around before finding a boy sitting on one of the four beds

The blonde one looked up at him before directing his gaze towards James. “Is he all fixed up yet?”

James grimaced a bit, “No, we’re waiting for Slughorn to make an antidote. Poppy told us to bring him up here and make him comfortable until the potions wears off or whenever Slughorn makes the antidote. Whichever happens first.”

Sirius just stood in the center of the room, unsure what exactly he was supposed to do. All four of the beds looked exactly the same, and though James had taken the bed next to the blonde boy’s bed, the other two seemed too similar. James must’ve noticed his discomfort because he nodded his head towards one of the beds before speaking to the other boy in hushed tones.

The bed was large with thick curtains around it, probably for privacy. The bed was made neatly and Sirius felt bad as he settled on top, wrinkling the sheets. On the bedside table was a book or two that seemed pretty untouched, and a dog toy?

“Hey, Sirius!” The blonde boy waved to get his attention. “I’m Peter.”

“Hi Peter.” Sirius waved back only for the other boys’ jaw to drop open as he shot James a look.

“He can talk?”

“Of course he can talk, you dolt. He lost his memories not his knowledge. I bet he can still do maths and stuff. He just doesn’t know how he learned it, I think.” James turned to Sirius with a thoughtful look. “What’s four plus four?”

“Eight,” Sirius replied immediately, much to his surprise.

“See! You know how you learned that? Who taught you?”

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. “No, not really.”

James gave Peter a knowing look. “See. James is always right, that’s why we don’t question James.”

“Oh quit it with the third person.” Peter rolled his eyes though his lips were quirked up a bit in a smile.

James continued to speak in third person and Sirius watched the banter with a small smile. Eventually Peter shoved James away, speaking of some essay he needed to finish, so James came over to bother him.

“I know you don’t really remember me, but we’ve been best mates since first year. That’s when we were elven.” James fills him in, perching on the edge of his bed.

“And now we’re...?”

“Seventeen. Er, well you are. Your birthday was about a month ago, November third. Remus and I are still sixteen.”

Sirius nods, soaking in this information. “And we’ve been dorm mates since then?”

“Yep! Actually, you live with me now. But don’t worry about that, you’ll get your memories back soon enough,” James reassured though Sirius didn’t fully believe him.

His thoughts were broken by the door slamming open as another boy stalked in. He was muttering angrily and when he saw the Peter, he turned toward him. “My blasted book was on the other side of the school! This is what I get for trying to study for Charms!”

Sirius just watched, mouth agape, because he had never seen someone this attractive. He knew he hasn’t seen very many people in the past hour, his only memories, but he’s sure no one else could compare. Though his side profile is all Sirius can see at the moment, he still marvels at his golden brown hair and the flutter of freckles splattering his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, probably from his journey to the other side of the school, and matched his lips that were moving rapidly as he complains.

And then he seems to realize that Sirius is there because he turns to him, and Sirius squirmed under the intensity of his amber eyes. “Did Slughorn’s antidote work?”

Sirius can barely manage a shake of his head.

This seems to upset the boy further because he groans and falls back onto his bed, hands dragging down his face. Sirius can’t help but follow his actions as his jumper hitches up to reveal a patch of pale skin. A jagged scar peaks out from under it, and though it’s faded to a silvery white, Sirius internally flinches at the thought of how it felt.

Though James was still on his bed, he couldn’t help but continue to sneak glances at Remus. Something about him, and his presence, seemed comforting. But he seemed in distress and Sirius wanted to offer that same comfort he found.

“If he’s Peter, you’re Remus, right?” Sirius can tell Remus is upset and maybe he just wanted to talk to his friend? While Sirius isn’t really Sirius, he can try. And then he stupidly introduces himself, “I’m Sirius.”

“I know,” Remus replies flatly, still stretched out on his bed. “And you’re the biggest idiot I know.”

Sirius cringes back, regretting the choice to open his mouth. He glances at James who just waves it off.

“He’s not mad, it’s just Remus.” James leans back as he stretches his leg out to prod Remus with a toe, then squealing when Remus grabbed said toe and yanked him so he almost slid off the bed. “Oi!”

Sirius waited for him to get situated again before leaning in to hiss, “You didn’t tell me I was gay! Or that Remus is so attractive! What the fuck, mate?”

To his surprise James just laughs, “Oh, right. Sorry, it’s not something I thought I would have to tell you, I dunno, I didn’t think about it. And what? I was supposed to introduce Remus as the hot one?”

“Yes,” Sirius replied, genuinely. “This is important information!”

“Right, sorry. But you don’t have to whisper, it’s not really a secret.”

Sirius narrows his eyes, “Being gay or thinking Remus is attractive?”

“Both. They go hand in hand, really, if you think about it.” James nods thoughtfully before smiling again reassuringly. “You’ll remember soon enough.”

“Right. So he knows I think he’s hot?”

“I would hope so.”

Sirius frowns at this, “You hope so? What, does everyone know?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Wait a minute, what exactly are we?” This time the question is directed to Remus who has been lying on his bed, quiet but no doubt listening in on their conversation.

Remus turns his head over to look at Sirius, his eyes flickering over his face before a smile is pulling at his lips as he says, “Friends. Since first year.”

“Yeah, yeah, everything since first year.” Sirius visibly deflates at this information. What was Sirius With Memories doing? How could he bear to be just friends with someone like that? And now he had gone asking dumb questions, no doubt a problem that will soon arise.

It took a mere couple of seconds before the problem rose.

James stood up, dusting off his pants in a big show before turning to Peter. “Let’s head down to dinner, yeah? I think it’s better if we leave Sirius back here, Remus, you’ll stay?”

Remus hummed a reply, now turning to lie on his stomach, burrowing his head into his arms. He looked so cuddly Sirius itched to wiggle into his embrace.

“Wait! I want to come, I want dinner, I’m hungry.” Sirius stood too but James waved him off.

“Nah, too many questions. We’ll bring you back some food, Remus too. And Poppy said to make him comfortable so Remus, I dunno, tuck him into bed or something.” James didn’t leave much time to argue, slipping out of the dorm door with Peter close behind him.

Sirius just stood there, awkwardly, now unsure what to do. He glanced at Remus who still had his head burrowed in his arms, and then at the door, considering just running after James and Peter. Why did he have to say something about Remus being attractive? Even if James was right and Remus already knew, it was so awkward!

“Are you going to change?” Remus asked, pulling Sirius out of his thoughts. His eyes flickered over Sirius’ figure before glancing back at him with a small smile. “You’re covered in that goop. I can clean off your bed, go get changed.”

Sirius assumed the trunk at the foot of his bed must have his clothes, and much to his luck, he was right. He just reached for some random pants and a shirt before spotting a fuzzy jumper in the corner. He grabbed it too.

Remus was muttering some sort of spell on the bed and the green patches were slowly disappearing. Throwing him one last glance, Sirius entered the bathroom and quickly changed out of his soiled clothes. Once he was clean, he grimaced at the state of his hair. Thankfully, it had been spared from the potion, for the most part, but was a tangly mess, no doubt from his nervous fiddling. He tried to rake his fingers through it but it didn’t do much so he just returned to the room.

Remus had cleaned his bed and was on his own now, fidgeting with a comb. When he spotted Sirius his eyes brightened and his smile grew a bit as he waved him over. “C’mere, I’ll fix your hair.”

Sirius ducked his head bashfully as he approached Remus’ bed before gingerly crawling onto it, sitting down in front of him. He was acutely aware of how close Remus was too him and butterflies erupted in his stomach. Sirius forced himself to sit perfectly still as nimble fingers began carding through his hair, working through the knots.

“Oh, Sirius, how did this even happen?” Remus murmured, his voice quiet enough that it made Sirius blush. This whole thing felt so intimate and it didn’t help that Remus kept brushing against his back as he fixed his hair.

“I dunno,” Sirius whispered back.

“S’okay, love, I think I can get the knots out.”

The nickname slipped out so naturally it sounded as if he said it every day, but it didn’t stop Sirius from freezing, his leg pausing in it’s bouncing. Remus must’ve noticed too because his fingers stilled in Sirius’ hair.

“Shit, I couldn’t even go fifteen minutes, could I?” He tutted, before continuing to work through his hair. “Sorry, Sirius. Your face when I walked in was too priceless, I couldn’t not have some fun with it. I loved your reaction to me saying we’re just friends.”

Sirius wasn’t completely sure what was happening, but he found his voice. “So we’re not friends?”

Remus snorted at this, “No. We’ve been dating since fourth year. Almost two years, now, I think.”

“Oh.”

Sirius’ head was whirling. He was dating Remus? And the others really didn’t bother saying anything about it? Again, this seemed like important information! Your name is Sirius Black, you’re gay, you have a hot boyfriend...the basics!

Remus laughed again and ran his comb through Sirius’ now tangle-free hair. “All done.”

Sirius turned around so he could face Remus who was now settled back down and was leaning against his headboard. “Thank you.”

“Look at you, so polite. If only Sirius could be like this every day.” Remus shook his head but his words held no venom. “Do you want me to braid it so it doesn’t get tangled again?”

Sirius didn’t really know what to say to him, seeing as they were boyfriends though he had no memory of this. So he just nodded mutely, turning back around so Remus could braid his hair. He worked in silence and Sirius greatly appreciated it.

When he was finished he patted Sirius’ shoulder and he turned around again. Remus was watching him with a warm smile and it encouraged him to voice his thoughts, “Do you think Slughorn will we be able to make an antidote?”

“For you memories? I’m sure he will. He’s pretty talented,” Remus assured, his hands reaching out to brush a couple loose strands out of Sirius’ face. “Don’t worry too much. We’ll work it out tomorrow.”

Sirius nods but he doesn’t feel very confident in the Professor’s abilities. “This is scary. I don’t know anything or anyone. It’s weird, though, I kind of still have emotions associated with people? So I feel things but I don’t know why.”

“I’m sure it’s terrifying. But you’re safe with us, I promise you trust us when you’re normal. And for the emotions? It’s probably like muscle memory but with feelings? Can you describe it? Like me for example?”

Heat crawls onto Sirius’ face and he dropped his gaze to his lap. “You’re warm. Like, my chest feels all warm on the inside. But also kind of swirly, I don’t know. It’s positive, I know that. I cared about you a lot, I think.”

“You did. I care about you a load too.” Remus reaches out to gently link their fingers together. “I was kind of scared about you never remembering me again, but I don’t think Dumbledore would let that happen. He’s the headmaster here.”

“I wish I could remember you. You seem worth remembering.”

Remus’ mouth fell open a bit at his words and then he was pulling Sirius into a tight hug, holding him against his chest. “That’s so cheesy but so sweet, oh my god, Sirius.”

Sirius laughed at this, but wrapped his own arms around Remus, laying his head onto Remus’ chest. The embrace felt so natural he couldn’t help but melt into it, sighing softly.

And that’s exactly when James and Peter burst through the door, holding plates of food. When James caught sight of them he exclaimed, “Remus! Get away from him! He doesn’t remember anything, poor Sirius! You’re a stranger! He’s a stranger!”

“He’s not a stranger,” Remus protested, continuing to hold Sirius, chin tucked over the top of his head. “He’s my Sirius.”

Sirius smiled into his sweater at his words. He quite liked the sound of that - my Sirius.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fluff #remus lupin #sirius black #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius black x remus lupin #wolfstar oneshot #wolfstar drabble #marauders #marauders era #hp #harry potter

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magpie-to-the-morning · 3 years

Text

On Fire from Within

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Tags: Self-Indulgent, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, the helmet comes off, Blindfolds, Sex Pollen, Dirty talk, Mostly in Mando’a, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Din is soft and a mess, and so am I, so much Mando'a because I cannot be stopped, Please let me know if I missed anything

Summary: Reader is a newish crew member on the Razor Crest. She was helping out on a bounty hunting mission when she got hit with a laced dart at a shady brothel. It's a sex pollen fic lads, you know how this goes!

Read on Ao3

“Fuck,” you swore softly, pulling a small barb from the back of your neck. It’s only a little thing, a geometric pattern of angles and sharp points. Odd for a piece of shrapnel, but surely nothing to worry about. The small wound wouldn’t be worth the Bacta gel. You tossed it away before walking up the ramp into the Crest.

“Everything ok?” Mando stepped away from the controls of the carbonite chamber. You hadn’t realized he was so close, and startled when you heard the question crackling through his modulator.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. That bastard frozen yet?”

“Just about.”

“Good. That place made me want to scrub the inside of my skin.” You’d just finished helping Mando drag a bounty out of a local bar running an illegal “pleasure house.” It certainly hadn’t deserved the name, and you were more than happy to provide an initial distraction so Mando could come in for the kill. (The metaphorical kill, sadly. You would have been happy to leave the owner of that awful establishment a smoking crater on the floor of his bar, but apparently that was “not following the brief” and “wouldn’t bring in as much money for fuel.” Pfft). There had been a little static on the way out, and you assume that’s when you’d picked up that bit of metal. “I’m going to hit the refresher, unless you need it first?”

The bounty hunter shook his head and moved towards the ramp. “No. I’m going to trade in the puck and get us out off this rock. You go ahead.”

You checked the controls of the shower. Again. You’re sweating, and as much as you try, you can’t get the water cold enough to soothe your burning skin. You arch your back, moaning when the stretching movement sends a dart of pleasure straight to your aching cunt. Fuck, why are you such a mess all of a sudden? You slip a hand between your legs and are shocked to discover that you are already dripping wet. You rub the back of your neck and it hits you- that wasn’t shrapnel. It must have been a dart laced with something, and knowing the type of place you were in, you’d bet any amount of credits it was a nasty aphrodisiac. “Those bastards…”

You drag your hands through your hair and take a steadying breath. Ok, you can handle this, pull yourself together… Nice empty ship and a hot shower. Nothing you haven’t done before. You let your hands drift lower, massaging your breast and tweaking an already pert nipple. You’re already so close…

An hour later and you’re sobbing from want. Why can’t you just. Fucking. Come already? You’ve tried everything, every fantasy, every technique or touch, and nothing. You try again, stroking your clit and spiraling towards release before it slips away again, a jolt of pain rebounding through you. “Damn it!”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You freeze. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed, of course Mando is back. What had he heard? “Um, nothing, it’s fine!” You wince at how falsely this rings, even to you.

There’s a pause. “Open the door.”

“… no? I’m not-“

“Open the door. Or I will break it down.”

Shit. You have a second to grab a towel before the door clangs open. Mando is through the door and into the tiny room in an instant, hand on his blaster. He checks all the corners which, takes about 2 seconds, before turning that implacable, visored gaze on you. “What’s going on with you?”

“Jeez, Mando, I-“ you try to bluff your way out of it for a moment before giving it up for lost. Even if you could explain away everything else, you know your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes will give you away. “Fine, just, promise you won’t laugh?”

“Is something funny?”

“No, it really isn’t.” You sigh. “So, I didn’t realize until we got back to the ship, but someone back at that hole in the wall hit me with some kind of dart. I think it was drugged.”

“Show me.”

“I chucked it just before I got on board, but this is where it hit.” You pull your wet hair back to show him the mark on your neck. Mando crosses the floor in one step, and you feel one of his gloved hands steady your shoulder as he takes a closer look. That small touch is enough to drive you wild, and you bite back a groan, leaning into his touch.

“Dank ferrik.” Mando pulls his hands away like he’s been burned, and your cheeks flame again, this time in embarrassment. “There are red marks at the injection site. I’ve, uh.. I’ve seen this before.”

You grit your teeth, finding it easier to talk about when you’re not looking at him. “It hurts, Mando and I can’t make it stop. How long am I going to feel like this?”

“Until it runs its course. Usually, a few hours. And it will get worse.”

You swear again, tears of frustration slipping down your cheeks. Mando stands there for a moment, flexing his hands and looking unsure of what to say. Finally, you hear a deep breath and, “let me help you.”

You startle, sure you’ve heard him wrong. It’s only been a few months since you signed on as his only crew member, a live-in mechanic and occasional extra pair of hands for certain bounties. You’d thought about it, of course. At first you’d seen this as just another short term gig. Some light repair work, the odd stint of standing lookout or patching up his wounds or acting as a distraction for a tricky bounty. The longer you spent with him though, the longer you started to see the man beneath the armor, his dark humor, his unexpected kindness, his tendency to throw himself into harm’s way for the sake of a code you can’t begin to understand. Stars, and that voice… but you knew he would never return those feelings. The idea of him offering himself to you now, out of pity or worse, obligation…

“No.” You move to shoulder past him.

He grabs your wrist. “Look, Y/N, I know I may not be your first choice but-“

You whirl around to glare at him. “Not my- damn it, Mando!” You kick the waste bin in sheer frustration. “I’ve wanted you for weeks and just because I don’t want you to feel cornered into sleeping with me you have the fucking gall-“

“Close your eyes.”

You blink in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Do it. Now.” You shiver at the steel in his voice and comply without another thought.

There’s a soft hiss, and the clang of metal set down on metal. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t… You start in surprise, feeling his leather-clad fingers cup your face and tip your chin up. “Are you sure you want this?”

You laugh, a little shakily, amazed to hear how deep and rough his unmodulated voice still is. “Are you?”

The next thing you know, he’s got you backed up against that wall. You gasp, reaching to pull him closer. His mouth slides over yours, lips warm and surprisingly plush. You deepen the kiss and moan, needing so much more. He responds by reaching down, pulling you up to straddle his waist. Trapped between the wall and a cage of Beskar, you’ve never felt freer. You card your fingers through his hair, marveling at the curls under your hands. Mando gasps, already sounding ragged. “How do you want me?”

You drag your nails down his scalp and lick your way up the column of his throat. You taste salt and pant into his ear, “in the cockpit chair.”

Mando groans. “You have been thinking about this, haven’t you, sweet girl?”

“Less talk. More chair sex.”

He huffs a laugh against your neck and pulls you from the wall, carrying you through the ship like you don’t weigh a thing. You make it through the corridor, with only a few brief stops against walls and doorways. Mando sets you down once you reach the cockpit and you whine at the lack of his touch, but still keep your eyes closed. He kisses your forehead. “Patience, sweet girl.” You give up the last shreds of your dignity and moan, rubbing your thighs together. “Can’t, I need you to touch me now.” You hear a few soft clinks, and realize Mando is removing his armor, piece by piece. Not wanting to be outdone, you toss your towel aside. Your eyes are still shut tight, but you add a hand to cover them, afraid you’ll forget yourself. You may not understand his beliefs, but you are damn sure going to respect them, even now.

There’s startle at a ripping sound, and Mando asking “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Good. Keep your eyes closed.” Mando pulls your hand away, pressing a kiss to your palm before knotting a blindfold around your eyes. You feel yourself pulled down to his lap. You twine your arms around his neck and lower yourself until you’re straddling his hips, grinding as close to him as you can.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me.”

He’s eager to comply, and you shiver as you feel his hands (his hands, not the gloves, stars) skim up your sides. Mando cups the back of your head, drawing you closer as he kisses and licks his way into your mouth. You immediately open your lips to his, stroking his tongue with your own, teasing the roof of his mouth to egg him on. You’re rewarded with a small groan, and Mando palming your left breast. He strokes your nipple with his thumb, rolling and pinching it to make you arch your back. “What else?”

“Maker, that’s so good… talk to me, Mando, don’t stop touching me.”

“Never, mesh’la.” Mando rolls his hips and makes you squirm against him. You can feel his arousal, pressed so close to your own, separated only by the canvas of his trousers. You mewl and buck your hips against him.

“Oh gods, yes…”

Mando chuckles as your breath speeds up. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, going to take such good care of you. Going to make this so good for you.”

He bends his head and sucks one of your nipples into his warm mouth, and you nearly black out. The sheer relief of such a touch when you need it so badly nearly undoes you completely. “Mando…”

“Din.” The word is muffled against your chest, and you have to ask “what?”

He rests his forehead against shoulder. “My name, Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you taste the short name, adding it to what you’ve learned about this man. This capable, dangerous, surprisingly gentle Mandalorian. How can such a hard man be so… This train of thought is interrupted as another wave of desire bowls you over, making you shudder with need and pain. “I need more, Din, please…”

You don’t even need to finish that thought before you feel his rough, calloused fingers drifting down your belly and lower, lower… You lean back to give him easier access, his other arm coming to rest around your waist, holding you up. You gasp when he strokes your folds. “Me’bana? You’re so wet, mesh’la. Is this all for me?” He doesn’t wait for a response before slowly fucking two of his fingers deep inside you, dragging the pads over your G-spot over and over. He’s a quick learner, adapting to touch you harder or softer, quicker or slower, as you gasp and buck your hips. “So good for me, so wet and ready. Do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes, yes, please Din, I’m so close…” you whine.

Din rubs your clit while fucking his fingers into you. He bites down on your earlobe, whispering, “Then come for me, cyare.”

You do. You cry out as you feel yourself coming apart under his hands, your hips thrashing despite you as you moan and call out his name. When you drift back to yourself, you’re grateful for his supporting hold as waves of pleasure continue to roll through you. Din strokes you through all of it, only backing off when your breathing slows and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You exhale slowly, taking stock after that release. “That was… whew…” Now that you have a moment to think clearly again, you can feel your mind spinning up to overthink this. Will you ever be able to look at your employer (partner? friend?) again? Not that you can ever look him in the eye anyway, but what if he’s completely disgusted with you after this? Your racing thoughts pause when you hear what can only be Din sucking your slick from his fingers.

“Maker, you taste as good as I hoped you would.” Thoughts: gone. Brain: empty. There can’t be any room for overthinking when your head is suddenly full of HE THOUGHT ABOUT TASTING ME?! “How do you feel?”

You force yourself to consider this. You can already feel the fire in your core roaring back to life. “Good, but, I can already feel it ramping back up.” You blush. “Not that I didn’t… I totally did, but.. sorry…”

“Shh, k’uur. I get it. Just relax and let me take care of you.” He stands up, depositing you gently in his seat. You only have a moment to wonder at this sudden shift before feeling him kneel down in front of you. Without even thinking about it, you let your legs fall open to him. “That’s it, sweet girl, let me see that pretty pussy.”

If you weren’t already positive you were running a fever, that would have tipped you over the edge. Din runs his hands up your thighs, his breath ghosting over your throbbing core. “Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair.” Is he… praying? You’re past the point of caring, all you want is for him to stop sucking marks into your inner thigh and finally move to where you need him most. You nearly scream when he drags his tongue up your slit. He flattens his tongue against you, humming appreciatively as your roll your hips. He wraps his arms around your thighs suddenly, jerking you closer towards him. “Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar.”

You are glad of the blindfold because you are so far beyond controlling your face. Din’s tongue feels like it is everywhere at once, tonguing your cunt like it was your mouth one second, then laving your clit the next. You curl your toes and howl when he sucks your clit into his mouth and you feel the barest hint of teeth around you. “So close, so close” you chant, reaching down to hold his head right where you need it.

Din releases your clit, licking circles around it instead. “You liked that, didn’t you cyare? Do you like it a little rough?”

You shudder, thrilled to have been caught out so soon. “Gods, yes.”

Din chuckles and you hope you haven’t slipped up by confessing quite so enthusiastically. “Oh this is going to be fun. I am going to ruin you, mesh’la.” He dives back into your pussy, licking and sucking and nipping at your thighs like a wild thing. You whine and arch your back.

“Hold. Still.” Din’s arm clamps over your waist like an iron bar. “How am I supposed to finish you off, if you won’t stop writhing around, you etyc dala?” When you push your luck, trying to squirm free, you feel a sharp slap to your thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me make you come? Or should I leave you here by yourself?”

“No, please, I’ll be good for you I promise!”

“Damn right you will,” he snarls. Without warning, Din shoves two fingers into your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You come in a rush, screaming his name.

You’ve barely come down from that high before chasing your next. While your first orgasm left you with some temporary relief, this one only stokes the fire even higher. You seize Din’s face from where he was resting his cheek against your thigh and pull him to your mouth. Reticence is a distant memory and you devour the taste of yourself from his mouth. When Din leans back and groans from this spectacle, you palm his length, spear-straight and hard as Beskar under your hand. Din shudders underneath you, and you can almost see the effort of restraining himself. You trace the shell of his ear and murmur “Why are you still wearing pants?”

Din rushes to his feet, pulling you from the chair and pushing you up against the nearest wall in one smooth motion. He holds you in place with one arm across your breastbone, panting with effort. “Hang on, I don’t want to rush you.“

You wish you could look at him, to show you the burning desire in your eyes, how much you truly want this. Alas. You settle for dropping to your knees and fumbling blindly with the fastenings of his trousers.

“Dank ferrik…” a muttered oath somewhere above your head. Din reaches down to help you, drawing his cock out. Once again, you wish the blindfold wasn’t necessary. You can feel the velvet-soft skin of him, trace the head of his cock and stroke up and down the length of him, but you wish you could see him. You breathe over him and, holding his shaft to help guide you (and madden him), lick just under the tip of his cock. You run your tongue around the ridge and lick your lips before taking him as far down your throat as you can. Din hisses and unleashes a stream of Basic and that same tongue he’d been speaking earlier. “Fuck… ori jate, ori jate, yes, Y/N. Parer, ke’pare, ah!”

You hum around him, loving the sound of him absolutely losing it. “Too much?” you ask, all innocence.

Din actually growls. “Yes. Don’t stop, please.”

You smile, hoping he can see you amidst his unraveling. You bob your lips over the head of his cock, once, twice, before sliding down the length of him as far as you can take. Din’s fingers tangle in your hair and you can feel him jerking his hips, holding back from fucking your face like he clearly wants to. You pull back again, letting go of his cock with a wet pop. “Don’t hold back, baby, I want all of you.”

This is more than Din can stand. He hauls you roughly to your feet, kissing you with abandon. “Say that again?”

“I want you Din, please. I fucking need you.”

Din grabs one of your legs and holds it over his hip. He teases your entrance while you beg him, rubbing against your folds. You moan in relief when he finally thrusts home, stretching you and dragging against your walls. You rake your nails down his back, biting at his shoulder. “Gods, yes, that’s so fucking good. Don’t hold back. Unh, yes, yes, yes…” He is pounding into you now, setting a brutally quick pace- just like you need. You try to kiss him but you’re getting sloppy and your kiss is more just dragging your open mouth along his jaw, panting as he fucks you. “Din, I’m so close…”

“That’s good, you’re so good at taking this cock aren’t you, mesh’la? Me'copaani? Do you want me to tell you how I’ve fantasized about fucking you over the console almost since you came on board? Do you want to hear how good it feels to be buried in your cunt, with your tight pussy around me? Because it is good, Y/N, and I am going to fucking destroy you.”

You scream his name. “Gods, Din, I’m gonna come!”

He seizes you by the throat, not hard enough to cut off your air but more than enough to let you know who is in charge now. “I want to feel you come on my cock. Come on, cyare, give it to me. Come. Now.”

It’s the full on bounty hunter voice command that slams you over the edge. You come hard, shaking in Din’s arms and soaking his cock. You absolutely would have fallen without him holding you up. He fucks you through it all, and as the aftershocks roll through you, you realize the screaming urgency has finally quieted. You can just about remember talking him through his own release before slipping below the cool depths of unconsciousness.

—

“Y/N? Here, drink this.”

You blink awake and feel a cold glass pressed into your hand. You take a sip. The icy water grounds you, and you take stock of your surroundings. You’re curled up in the captain’s seat, warm under a slightly tattered woolen blanket, or maybe a cloak? It takes you a moment before you realize what else is different. You can see again. “Din?”

“I’m here.” His voice is distant, slightly fuzzed. You look around, seeing him once again hidden beneath the helmet. “How do you feel?”

You’re still restless, like some distant part of you needs to get up and run or fight or fuck, but your limbs are feeling a bit heavier now and it’s easier to breathe. “Better.” You lift the glass again, drinking the rest of the water like you’ve never tasted anything so sweet.

Din lays his hand on your cheek, and you’re relieved to find that at least this bit of him has not been covered up again. “You’re still running a temperature but it feels like it’s easing up.” He takes the empty glass from you, setting it aside before taking your hand and drawing you up. “Come on, let’s get you to your bunk.”

You rise, unsteady on your legs after several rounds of fairly vigorous sex. Din steadies your elbow, guiding you out of the cockpit. “Sick of me already?” You’re aiming for a light tone but you know you missed the mark.

Din turns you to face him and studies you for a moment. “Yeah. Probably going to drop you off on the next planet we hit.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking at your own skeptical face in the reflection of his visor. “Oh yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “No, ner kar’ta.” You couldn’t tell before, but now you’re almost sure he’s smiling. “I think you’re stuck with me for awhile.”

_________________________________

Mando'a Translations mesh'la beautiful

Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair. This is mine. Going to give you my tongue until you scream.

Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar. Delicious, I (am) drunk from you.

Etyc dala dirty girl

Ori jate so good

Parer wait

Ke'pare wait (emphatic)

Me'copaani? What's this?

Ner kar’ta My heart

#Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x Female Reader #Din Djarin x F!Reader #More reformatting reblogs not new content #May change the banner later too #I'm not as wild about this one #Din Djarin #x reader #Fic #My fic #The Mandalorian #Mandoa

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 40: Hesitant

It had been a slow descent in to madness, Harry reflected, as he fondly (yes, fondly) watched his completely barking mad auror partner drag in a rolled up mat the size of a living room carpet to the middle of their tiny office floor.

He watched as Malfoy looked at the office, taking in the dimensions for a moment, before casting a (rather complicated) spell that enlarged their office space enough to make room for the mat to lay out flat.

Harry couldn't help but be impressed; Malfoy had done it half a dozen times at this point in their career but expansion charms were quite tricky and (technically) weren't allowed in the ministry.

Harry fell a little further.

"Alright, Potter," he snapped. "Is this enough for your delicate sensibilities? Can we solve this case now?"

"You know, Malfoy," he said as he shrugged out of his auror robes, "A simple 'please' once in a while wouldn't go amiss."

He rolled his eyes, "Oh, please, good and gracious savior, would you please help little old me to solve the case so that you can get all of the glory?"

Harry winced. He knew Malfoy was taking the piss but it hit a bit too close to home. It always seemed like no matter what they did or how they solved the case, Robards always found some way to attribute it to Harry's abilities. No matter what Harry said to the contrary. "Malfoy-"

"Oh, don't," he said, waving a hand. "It's fine. I don't care."

"Well I care," Harry grumbled as he slipped his shoes off.

Malfoy smirked at him, "Well if you really want to make it up to me you'll hurry the fuck up and lay down on this mat so we can figure out what happened to our victim."

(More below the cut)

He groaned but did as he was told, collapsing onto the mat.

"Good," Malfoy said, stalking around Harry with all of the grace of a jungle cat (probably the deadliness of one, too). "Right arm up over your head," he instructed. "Bend your elbow a bit."

Harry did, closing his eyes and letting Malfoy's instructions wash over him. There had to be some perks of playing the dead guy.

"Right," Malfoy hummed softly, "So if you were stabbed here," he said, nudging the spot between Harry's fourth and fifth rib with the toe of his shoe, "And you were stunned. How did they manage to get so close without you pulling your own wand?"

"Are we sure he wasn't stunned first and then stabbed?"

"Yes," he replied. "Why bother stabbing someone if they're already stunned?"

"When we know that it wasn't the stab wound that killed him," Harry agreed.

"It doesn't make sense," Malfoy grumbled. "Why would I stab you, then stun you, and then kill you? If it were about the pain of your death, I'd stab you and then curse you. But stunning someone meant that they didn't want them to feel the pain."

"Maybe they were making too much noise?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shook his head, "The tracer on scene said that there was a muffliato used around the perimeter to prevent anyone from overhearing."

"It's almost like there were two different un-subs with two different motives," Harry mused.

Malfoy put one leg over him so he was standing with one foot on either side of his body, straddling his rib cage and Harry had to work very hard to remind himself that he was at work and to keep his bloody mouth closed and his hands to himself. "Say that again," Malfoy said.

"What?" Harry squeaked, worried that he'd somehow said something untoward.

"You said, 'it's almost like there were..." he prompted.

"Uh," Harry replied, circling back to that. And honestly, he couldn't be blamed for his brain abandoning him like this, under this particular set of circumstances, anyone's brain would be short circuiting. "I said, 'It's almost like there were two different un-subs with two different motives.' I think."

Mafloy stared at him for a long moment and Harry knew that he wasn't really being seen, Malfoy was mostly looking through him as he tried to process. "Two different motives," he repeated. The other man got that far off look in his eyes as he stared through Harry.

His gaze focused back in on Harry, "The one who stunned him was trying to keep him from feeling the pain," he said. "You're right, Potter, there must have been two un-subs, and our poor victim had two children who stood to inherit quite a bit."

"One of them is a squib," Harry added.

"Which would explain the knife," Draco finished.

"And," Harry said, "Explains why our victim didn't draw his wand."

Draco nodded, "Exactly." He reached down, offering a hand to Harry, which he took as he allowed the other man to pull him off the floor. "Let's go arrest some suspects."

--------

The arrest had gone... poorly, to say the least.

So poorly, in fact, that Harry had ended up in St. Mungos having multiple lacerations tended to along with a shattered rib. It had turned out that Jonas, the brother who was a squib, had rigged up booby traps and for all that they had magic, muggle technology still won sometimes.

Shattered bones weren't as easily mended as broken ones, they needed to be removed and regrown, so Harry was still in the hospital bed, trying to relax while his body regrew his fifth rib, when Malfoy arrived.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, looking drawn, and pale, and hesitant.

"Come in," Harry said, frowning a bit at the other man, "I won't bite."

Malfoy huffed and rolled his eyes, "What if I asked really nicely?" he teased as he entered the room.

"Well, if you ask really nicely, that's a different matter entirely," Harry replied, thinking there wasn't much we wouldn't do for the other man.

"Not much, huh?" Malfoy asked and Harry realized he'd said that last bit aloud, too.

"Yeah," he said softly, looking over at the other man. "I can't really think of anything I wouldn't do for you."

"Harry," he breathed, shaking his head. "What were you thinking? You almost died because you threw a shield around me first."

"I won't let anything bad happen to you. Not if it's in my power to stop it," he said.

"But why?"

Harry let out a humorless chuckle, regretting it almost instantly when his re-growing rib protested. "Are you really going to make me say it?"

Running a hand nervously through his hair, Draco replied, "Well one of us has to."

He didn't dare let himself hope that Draco meant what it sounded like he meant. This couldn't possibly be two sided, could it? "I think you're the one who's going to need to say it, then," he whispered.

"Harry," Draco murmured again, leaning a bit closer. "I'm going to need you to tell me if I'm reading this wrong."

His face was mere inches away, his eyes searching Harry's for an answer. "You're not reading it wrong," Harry replied as he closed the distance between them and brushed a soft kiss over Draco's lips, wincing at the stretch in his ribs.

"Lean back," Draco said, voice soft and warm and Harry wanted to drown in it.

He did as Draco instructed, resting against the elevated back of the hospital bed.

Draco cupped his cheek, brushing his thumb over Harry's cheekbone before leaning in and kissing him again. He kissed him slow and sweet like he had all the time in the world; like he'd done this a thousand times already and would do it a thousand times more.

A cheer from the doorway had them both jumping and turning to see that Ron was standing there.

"Err-" Harry started.

"Finally," Ron said emphatically. "Sweet Merlin, we were starting to think it was never going to happen. And you perfect idiots helped me to win the office betting pool!"

"Sorry?" Harry said, looking a Draco who looked equally confused.

He grinned and came in with the takeaway bags, "I always knew it was going to be after Harry got hurt keeping Draco safe." Then he frowned, "You did just get together, right? Like it hasn't been in secret? Because if it has, could you lie and say it hadn't so I can win-"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Yes, we're just realizing that the other feels the same. Don't worry, you've won."

"Excellent," Ron beamed, "Hermione and I have been working really hard on saving a down payment for a house and this ought to cover it."

Harry blanched, "How much is the betting pool?"

He lifted a shoulder as he handed Harry a box of lo mein and Draco a box of sesame chicken, "A little over 2500 galleons the last I knew."

"2500 galleons?!"

"Yeah," Ron replied, "You wouldn't believe how many people wanted in on the betting." He grinned at them, "Everyone was sure that you'd end up together so it was just a matter of how."

"And no one thought to tell me?" Harry asked incredulously.

"We've been tiptoeing around each other for literal years," Draco added.

"Well," Ron said, around a mouthful of fried rice, "When something is inevitable, it's inevitable."

---------

Day 39: Confess | Day 41: Embrace

#drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #Day 40 #auror partners #getting together #my writing #i hope you enjoy!#thanks for the prompt!

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

Text

Thanks to @jenoramaca @gryffindorhealer and @secretkeeper13 for the quick beta work!

A gift for my beloved @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey.

CW: Language and domestic fluff

______

Trying

From the second he walks through the door, Harry can sense that something’s changed. It takes him thirty minutes to suss out why.

In retrospect, the smells coming from the kitchen probably tipped him off. Or maybe it was Ginny’s distracted hum, followed by the tinkling of plates and cutlery. Perhaps it was the fact that she prepared a full dinner, long before he even got home.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t worry about it too much as he greets her with a kiss, his hands cupping her chin. When he sits across from her at the table, there’s something furtive and curious lurking behind her eyes, but their meal is so peppered with normalcy that he doesn’t bring it up. They banter and laugh about Luna and Robards and wonder what they’ll bring to the Burrow on Sunday.

But when they’ve reached the stage of chasing stray noodles around their plates, Ginny finally clears her throat… and just like that, the nearly imperceptible shift he’d sensed earlier turns into something very perceptible, indeed. “Can I erm. Talk to you about something?”

He pauses, mid-bite, and takes her in. Her lip’s worried between her teeth, her hands fidgeting. Even her hair, normally strewn about her shoulders or parted to the side with a sort of effortless grace, is tied back and resting low at the base of her neck.

Ginny’s not normally this… serious. And he’d be lying to say it didn’t frighten him.

So he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Who died?”

There’s a half-second pause in which his chest clenches, his stomach churns. Could it be Molly? Or Arthur? George hasn’t been great either, not that—

But Ginny just reels back, confused… and it’s not until then that Harry realizes he’s really, really misread something.

“I… w-what?” she stammers, brow furrowing. She peers at him for a pained moment before her face relaxes into a look of understanding. “Oh. Oh! For fuck’s sake,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. “I guess I’m thicker than usual, should’ve known you’d read it that way.”

Harry snorts. “Erm… darling, as many things as I legitimately don’t understand, I’m fairly sure this one isn’t on me.”

Ginny ignores this. “Did you seriously think that something dreadful happened and I’d just spring that on you in the middle of your bolognese?” Her lips twitch into a smirk. “Here’s some pasta. By the way, a fire burned a puppy orphanage to the ground. Could you pass the salt?”

He gives her a plain stare. Nice try. Years ago, he might’ve taken the bait and chased her down that rabbit hole. They might’ve had an hour-long, spirited debate on the existence of puppy-specific orphanages. But after three years of marriage, he knows better.

And she knows he knows.

Ginny finally draws a resigned breath. “No,” she says slowly. “No one died, ok? Or is even… I don’t know, sick or infirmed or threatened.” She waves her hand and continues babbling. “Last I checked, even Muriel’s still going strong, somehow. I’m jealous of that, you know— being old enough to just say whatever the fuck you’d like and have no one question it because—”

“—Ginny,” he cuts across on an exasperated sigh. “As chuffed as I am to chat about Muriel all night, I’d really like to know what’s bothering you. Please?”

There’s another pause as she bites her lip. Then, in one swift motion, she attempts to rise to her feet and push her chair in on her way over to him.

But somewhere along the way, something gets crossed— and Harry watches in bewildered horror as her foot catches on the leg of the chair. Then, right in front of his eyes, she lets out a startled gasp, her arms flailing, before she lands with a thump.

He’s out of his seat and on the floor beside her before he even realizes she’s cried out in pain and surprise. “Are you ok?” he demands, pushing her jeans up around her ankle… her tricky ankle, the one she hurt rather badly at the playoffs last month. Hm. It's a bit red.

Honestly, she hasn’t been this clumsy since she was 10 years old and near a butter dish. This does nothing to alleviate his fears that there’s something Very Wrong.”

“It’s not even my ankle that hurts,” Ginny grits, pushing up on her palms. “Wait— Harry, what are you—”

“Need to ask Gwenog,” he says urgently, running to the other side of the table for his wand. “She said that if anything happens to your ankle to tell her straight away, remember? Better safe than—”

She scoffs. “Seriously, Harry, I’m fine! I didn’t even land on my—”

He arches an eyebrow. “Have you suddenly forgotten the Puddlemere match? When your ankle broke clean through the skin?” Even now, the memory makes him shudder. “You heard Gwenog— without magic, you might not have walked again.”

“But there was magic,” she says, almost pleading. “And seriously, I’m fine!”

Harry finds he has limited patience for her heroics, though, while she’s sprawled out on the floor and nursing a bruise on her arse. “Gwenog’s instructions were quite clear,” he says firmly. “Having a pro athlete as a wife is a group task. It’s taxing on your body. I’ve got to make sure there’s enough of you left to enjoy our lives.”

Ginny clears her throat. “Erm… but what if you… haven’t actually got a pro athlete as a wife. Technically speaking.”

Harry swallows. He’s sure he’s heard her wrong. “What?”

With a wince, she adjusts herself against the wall. “I’m sorry… this isn’t how I’d planned to tell you. I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

Normally, Harry might press a bit harder. Normally he’d demand answers— and now. But as he peers at her on the floor, there’s something soft and uncertain behind her eyes… something timid. So he decides to do something he knows he’s good at— something she doesn’t let many other people do: take care of her.

With a sigh, he scoops her from the floor and brings her to the sofa. Then he props her against the pillows, putting her legs across his lap.

And he waits.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, peering at her downcast face, before she finally says it in a rush.

“Iwanttohaveababy.”

It comes on a whisper. A breathed admission. He knows, just from her expression, that she’s never said it aloud.

But he must have misunderstood. There’s no way he’s not projecting, inserting the reality he wants instead. “Could you… could you repeat that?” he manages, his voice gruff and shaken.

Ginny just sits up straighter; her cheeks as red as her hair. “I want to have a baby,” she repeats, the confidence building with every word.

Oh. Looks like he was right after all.

Harry blinks at the carpet, his head spinning, mortified with the tears that have sprung, unbidden, to the corners of his eyes.

A baby. Their baby. A smile plays at his lips as he stares at her ankle in distracted bliss. He’s been ready for ages… longer than anyone he knows. It’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t want a family with her. When he didn’t want to watch her grow and change. To become more beautiful with every passing day until…

He swallows back another round of tears; he’d never forgive himself if he forced this… if he swayed her, in any way, despite what he wants so badly it squeezes his insides.

“But what about quidditch?” His voice cracks; he clears his throat to cover it. “Honestly Ginny, I’ll wait, as long as you’d like. We’re young. Think of what you’d deal with, loads of assumptions and press and comments.”

She turns to him with an arched brow. “And since when have I ever cared about comments? Since when have you cared about comments?”

He spreads his palms in resignation; it was a particularly weak argument. “I know. I just… don’t want to make your life more difficult.”

“Well...” She draws a deep breath and peers down at her nails. “I’ve erm. Actually quit the Harpies, all by myself.” Her cheeks begin to redden again. “I’ve already sent the owl and everything. Resigned. No intent to return next season.”

Oh.

That’s what she meant, then, about not being married to a professional athlete. Harry blinks a few more times as she plows through an explanation that could honestly be something from a dream.

“I’ve… I’ve just been thinking about it. A lot,” she adds, focus returning to her cuticles. “The Harpies are out for the rest of the season— that fucking Puddlemere match and that bullshit ref.” She glares at the pillow to her right. “Nothing like blind favoritism. Fucking prick should’ve been fired!”

All Harry can manage is a feeble chuckle, his hand moving to caress her knee. This time, he can’t bring himself to stop her spiral.

“Maybe it’s not just that match, though,” she admits, rubbing her ankle. “It’s also just… so much bloody work. I’ve been at it three whole seasons, you know? I’m a bit tired of missing birthdays. And family events. And only dreaming of bludgers and snitches. And attending the mandatory press interviews to avoid getting fined, and then giving polite answers to personal questions when I really just want to hex them, and—”

Harry laughs. “I think Sandra Richardson might disagree about the polite answers bit, darling.”

Ginny gives a dignified sniff and continues as if she hasn’t heard him. “Annnyway,” she says, toying with a piece of lint. “I… feel like I’m ready to move on. So.” Her face splits into a grin as she gestures to the corridor. “On with it.”

He clears his throat. “As much as I’d love to take you up on that, I’m confused about how this relates to quitting your job. You could’ve kept playing. Or—”

“—Why is it so hard to believe this is something I want?”

There’s a beat. He doesn’t have a good answer.

“What if I wanted to quit before I got pregnant?” she continues, her tone growing more demanding. “What if I was done with playing, regardless — and genuinely wanted to have children? Your children.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh, tossing her hands in the air. “I have to say, Harry, this feels an awful lot like you’re doubting what I actually want to fit a narrative of what you think I want.” Her eyes narrow again. “Is that really respecting my wishes?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. He’d never thought about it like that before… how it might be insulting, really, to question what she’s ready for. He laces their fingers together, feeling properly chastened. “I’m sorry. I never meant to… suggest you don’t know what you want. Or something.”

He hears the timid smile in her voice as she squeezes his hand back. “Do you still want a baby, then?” she asks. “Or are you just in it for the practice?”

A smile creeps across his face, his eyes still focused on her hands. “I… think you know the answer to that one.”

“Well, I’m not sure I do,” Ginny says flatly. “Because I just told someone who wants two million babies that I’m ready to carry his first child. Forgive me if I expected a bit more excited fanfare than acting like I drowned your kitten.”

“What’s with you and baby animals today?” he murmurs, inching her pant leg a bit higher.

“Wonder why I’ve got babies on the brain,” she quips, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe because I want one.”

Harry releases a resigned sigh. She’s clearly done playing. “Honestly…” He bites his lip. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’m obviously on board. Obviously.” His eyes flit to hers. “I just… I don’t want to be responsible for something you end up regretting.”

It’s the truth of the matter, really; the thing that tugs at him the hardest. The fear he’d ever burden her… the worry he’d ever make her less than happy.

Ginny gives him a small smile, her hand coming to cup his jaw. “I’m going to take that as a weird, sad Harry thing instead of an attempt to remove my womanly agency.” She narrows her eyes. “But that’s your final warning.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet in a split-second, gathering her into his arms with the stupidest grin he’s ever worn. Trying. Is that what they call this? Are they actually properly trying now?

“Get used to this,” she says as he strides into the bedroom. “Because once you knock me up— on purpose, mind— I’m going to request a lot more transportation.”

“I think I can live with that,” Harry murmurs against her lips, draping her across the bed.

And to avoid a well-deserved slap, he doesn’t say the final bit: As long as you can live with me.

#harry/ginny #harry/ginny fanfic #hinny #harry potter #harry and ginny

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0junemeatcleaver0 · 2 years

Text

The Young And The Feckless: A Post I Never Thought I’d Make.

INTRODUCTION

The back half of that title might sound a bit dramatic, I know. But as someone who has viewed call out posts as something the kids do, finding myself putting so much effort into writing one when I have gray hair and a mortgage feels...pretty weird. So let me (briefly) explain.

@saint-molochaii (or as I’ll be referring to him in the remainder of this post, SM) first pinged my radar when I saw a post of his appear in the Vampire Chronicles tag here on Tumblr back in autumn. I was aware of him in a vague way—I had seen his gifs being reblogged here and there, but I had not until this point seen any personal posts from him, nor had I interacted with him on a one on one basis.

I won’t get into the specifics of this post as it has apparently since been deleted and as you can see, I have done my damnedest to back up everything I’m about to say with direct links. But what I will say about this post for context’s sake is that it rubbed me the wrong way, to say the least.

The post pertained to him attempting to be an ally in fighting racism in fandom (the VC fandom specifically), but it was fairly obvious to me by the tone of the post that he was going about it very poorly.

I didn’t feel like going to his blog to sift through for details and context, so I just rolled my eyes and kept scrolling. I could not have predicted that months later, I would be scrolling back through to March on his blog to try to gain context after he threw a shit fit that I did interact with (more on that later).

That interaction stuck in my craw for reasons I’ll get into later in this post. But the thing that stuck with me the most was the realization that the more I put off talking about the points he brought up in that post, the bigger my hypocrisy was becoming. In other words, I was mad at him for doing allyship wrong, and then refused to do the hard work of pointing out how and what went wrong with all that. That’s on me, that’s my bad.

Which brings us to the most important question of this section of the post: Who is this post for?

The first section of this post Bad Allyship: A Timeline of Events is for the fandom at large! It’s become apparent to me (for reasons that will become obvious over the course of this post) that people are currently nervous to talk about race in the VC Tumblr fandom space. And I get it, it can be tricky knowing how to speak about racism–how to talk to other white people about it as an ally. The first section will include resources and a primer on what not to do, using SM as an example. Because fuck having interesting, nuanced discussions about race in fiction being shut down by a performitive activist.

The second section of this post But Molochaii...You Know How This Looks, Right? are all the questions I still have for SM. Which won’t be answered, just as my initial question to him remains. But I’m a curious cat, so I’ll ask those questions anyway. While this bit of the post will be directed at him specifically, feel free to read it yourself or skip it as you see fit.

You may be wondering why the first section isn’t directed specifically toward SM, when I obviously think that he’s still got a lot to learn. That is because I do not think that SM is acting in good faith. You can feel free to disagree, but I think reading through both sections of this post will clue you into why that’s my feeling on the whole situation.

NOTE: This is absolutely not some call to action to go harass SM for being a bad faith actor within fandom while weaponizing allyship when facing even the most tepid pushback. This is simply someone entering a fandom, realizing there is a problem, and stating what the problem is. My advice would ultimately be to ignore him and block him if you feel you must. If you read all this and find yourself thirsting for the sight of some internet weirdo getting dunked on, I am sure he’ll show up in my askbox as an anon, at which point I will dunk on him as hard as I see fit to thus slaking that thirst. I’ll even come up with a tag for it. These types tend to react in the exact same ways when called out and well. Anon is still on. So. I can’t wait for him to prove me wrong </sarcasm>

And if you’d like a TL;DR version of what exactly happened to kick all this off, this now deactivated user summed it up perfectly back in September:

Bad Allyship: A Timeline of Events

When it comes to how to talk about racism as an ally, the guide we’ll be using for simplicity’s sake is dosomething.org’s “How White People Can Talk to Each Other About Disrupting Racism”. It’s a great, concise read and I would highly recommend it to any white person who claims the title ally and wishes to do the difficult work of anti-racist activism.

For a clear view of what being an ally actually means, we will be using The Guide to Allyship. https://guidetoallyship.com/

I highly recommend clicking through to read both of these links in their entirety, but for the sake of brevity (this is already such a long post), I will be posting the bits I’ll be pulling from the most here.

From dosomething.org:

Prepare For The Conversation

Understand why white people should have conversations with one another

Think about why you want to have this conversation.

Choose who you want to talk to and how

Establish goals for the conversation

Set expectations for yourself and your conversation partner

Also from dosomething.org:

Have The Conversation

DO start the conversation from a place of curiosity and care

DO lead with “I” statements

DO ask open ended questions

DON’T end the conversation at the first sign of discomfort

DO stay on topic

DON’T think you have to do this alone (IE: bring resources)

DO consider taking a pause and returning to the conversation at a different time if you feel like the conversation is moving more towards conflict and away from conversation.

From guidetoallyship.com:

To Be An Ally Is To...

Take on the struggle as your own

Transfer the benefits of your privilege to those who lack it

Amplify voices of the oppressed before your own

Acknowledge that even though you feel pain, the conversation is not about you

Stand up, even when you feel scared

Own your mistakes and de-center yourself

Understand that your education is up to you and no one else

Now, onto the bit where we learn by example. I present to you a case study in what not to do:

MAY 25

Amid rumors of a black man potentially being cast as Louis, SM makes a rather milquetoast, standard post to the fandom at large about not being racist about this decision.

The post itself is...fine. The tone isn’t overly condescending. He seemed to have a goal (getting out ahead of any racist shit that might be said about this decision). Not a bad post, but also nothing to write home about.

The only comment he gets that isn’t just immediate agreement is the following:

The reason I point out the fact that this is the only comment he got on this post that wasn’t just 100% agreeing with everything he said will become clear. Don’t worry.

AUGUST 25

SM admits to having already blocked all the racists on Tumblr and thus has not seen any racist activity on Tumblr where the VC fandom is concerned. Though he does say he’s still been seeing it on Facebook.

This appears to simply be a rant post, which is fair enough. The important part, though, is the admittance to blocking anyone he viewed to be racist on Tumblr.

I can’t know which point from our resources are behind his decision to block (was it “stand up, even when you feel scared” or “don’t end the conversation at the first sign of discomfort”?) I can’t possibly know what his reasoning was, just that claiming allyship only to block every person you think is racist on a platform is...a choice.

More tellingly, in an answer to an anon, he cops to being (direct quote) “incredibly bad at having limits”. We’ll get back to that later.

AUGUST 26

SM makes a fandom-wide appeal to any BIPOC fans to give him any hints on what to do as an ally about all the racism he’s seen in fandom, while alluding to having hateful anon messages in his askbox.

Understand that your education is up to you and no one else.

While I already had these resources bookmarked, they are not difficult to find on Google at all. 30 whole seconds at most. Anti-racist work looks just the same in fandom as out of it. The mechanics are the same. He could have asked Google this question instead of asking fans of color.

Moreover:

“Somewhere in the notes to the casting post, someone mentioned that blocking people isn’t helpful bc it only removes the issue from our (white people’s) end, not for existing in general, & that interaction & reporting was a better choice. I agree to an extent, except I’m not sure what arguing with people on tumblr accomplishes, the block button is open for anyone to use so?”

Notice that not only does he disregard the very good point this unnamed user brought up in the notes of the post he mentions, he also implies here that the only way he can envision having anti-racist conversations is in the form of arguments. Start the conversation from a place of curiosity and care. (Also lol-ing forever at ‘the block button is open for anyone to use’. #NotAllBlockButtons)

Sofipitch responds to tell him that it’s cool to just delete and block and all that.

SM agrees and shows just how unaware he is re: allyship work and his place in it.

In this reply he uses the word conversation once and it’s in quotations as though he thinks actually trying to understand why another white person might hold a racist belief so he can see how best to inform them of their ignorance is somehow beneath him and not...how allies are supposed to help dismantle racism?

SEPTEMBER 1

SM reblogs a post by I-Want-My-IWTV. IWMI answered an anon where they spoke about the rumors of black!Louis possibly being a brothel owner. It was a fairly nuanced post about all the possible pros and cons of that decision from a writing and representation perspective. Outside of that, it was a wholly unremarkable post.

SM’s whole problem with this post seemed to be that there’s a real racism problem in the VC fandom internet-wide, though it’s hard to tell because he never specifies on what platforms he’s having these difficulties speaking to other white people about this. (Remember: He admitted back in mid-August that he’s blocked everyone he thinks is racist here on Tumblr. So it would be safe to assume that he’s not speaking about here on Tumblr.)

Here we start to see the breakdown in communication really ramp up.

Part of the problem I think is that we’re all going to have our own definitions of ‘fandom’, as well as having limits to exactly how many platforms we use to participate in fandom.

I’ll use myself as an example. I only count people as being a part of fandom if they produce or interact with fanworks and/or participate in discussion about the work with other fans (headcanons and metas being an example of this). I also only have Tumblr as a personal social media account. This is the only place I interact with the fandom.

You may have a different definition. Perhaps to you, fandom is anyone who enjoys a piece of media to spend money on it and actively keeps up with news about the IP. And maybe you are active in fandom on all social media platforms.

All of that is fine. There’s no wrong way to do fandom outside of just straight up being an asshole.

But the breakdown in communication is directly tied to the fact that SM seems to have skipped over steps 3-5 of Preparing For The Conversation as outlined by dosomething.org.

3) Choose who you want to talk to and how. He blocked all the (to his estimation) racists in the fandom on Tumblr. So we can assume that the people he’s seen being racist in the internet-wide VC fandom have been on other platforms. But then he continuously comes to Tumblr to fight the racism? That he’s not seeing because he already blocked all the racists on here? Who is he talking to? And why? Which brings us to:

4) Establish goals for the conversation. If he doesn’t know who exactly he’s addressing (or is addressing no one in specific) then it is impossible for this conversation to have a goal. If the person he wanted to speak to from point #3 was IWMI, then I’m still unclear on what his intended goal might have been. One could assume that he wanted the people of Tumblr to collectively break down camp and make the trek over to Facebook to fight the people of the page. But he never made that clear. He acted as though he was the only one capable of seeing the key to stopping the evil racist fans and then just...didn’t elaborate on what that was.

5) Set expectations for yourself and your conversation partner. See the above point. I can’t know what his expectations were in making this post, but they clearly weren’t met. But again, that’s on him and his lack of planning, elaboration, and know-how.

The problem with this is while IWMI’s post did make mention of the wider VC fandom/audience, they also didn’t make any denials about whether or not there actually are malicious actors in the fandom.

Reading IWMI’s response as someone who wasn’t involved in this discussion at the time has led me to believe that what IWMI was saying is that it’s difficult to know the true intentions behind bringing up displeasure with Louis’s casting. Which is true. That’s why steps one and three of Having The Conversation from dosomething.org are: Start the conversation from a place of curiosity and care and ask open ended questions. Which IWMI came closer to doing in this post than SM did in any of his posts or responses that I’ve seen.

SEPTEMBER 14

SM makes his first of a series of “I’m stepping away from fandom” posts.

He states in this post that he doesn’t care if people say he’s just crying white male tears. Which is fortunate because that’s what he then goes on to do and I could imagine that caring that people are pointing out where you’re messing up would be terribly distracting while you’re trying to make anti-racist work all about yourself as a white man.

I’m being a bit uncharitable there, I know. But the whole post is him making anti-racist work all about how doing it has effected him as a white man.

To be an ally is to acknowledge that even though you feel pain, the conversation is not about you.

SEPTEMBER 18

SM makes a post further elaborating on his experiences being the only white man in fandom willing to fight the good fight.

I include this post to touch on two points contained therein.

“A lot of white people are afraid to talk about racial issues & that’s why this shit keeps happening.” (First line of the first paragraph of that post). From what I’ve seen through my research the reason white folks in the Tumblr VC fandom were beginning to become afraid of discussing race (and racism in Anne’s work and racism in fandom or the implications inherent in narrative choices the showrunners were rumored to be making) was that he was insinuating anyone who didn’t agree with his thoughts on the choices the showrunners were making were all covert racists. He actively made this stuff difficult to talk about. Which is not the role of an ally.

“I don’t necessarily have a concrete example of what ‘talking about it’ means.” Clearly. You see, here he admits to not knowing how to actively be an anti-racist ally. He knows discussions need to happen, but not what the mechanics of that could possibly be. This is not someone who needs to be doing this work. This is someone who is in the very early stages of his anti-racist work, which is fine! We all have to start somewhere! But this is someone who seems to have skipped most of the learning stage and has gone right into the more hands-on activism when he is absolutely unprepared to do so. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s admitted that fact within this single sentence, not to mention how he’s gone about discussing racism in the fandom.

SEPTEMBER 28

Sm writes an empty apology to unknown persons.

In this post, he apologizes for “some of the things I said / did” during this “bullying issue”. He makes allusions to wrongdoings on his part, but mentions no specifics. As you’ll come to see later in this post, this apology appears to be ultimately empty, as it’s clear that he’s learned very little from the experiences he’s had doing this work.

He also admits to having his PTSD triggered during all of this. Which again demonstrates how unprepared for confronting racism he is. There is nothing wrong with admitting when you are not in the mental space to take on potentially being yelled at by vitriolic people. But that is also a possibility you need to be prepared for if you want to not only call yourself an ally, but also act as one.

Furthermore, reading this post feels like playing bad apology bingo. For more on how to properly apologize: https://guidetoallyship.com/#apologies

And because it is once again relevant: To be an ally is to acknowledge that even though you feel pain, the conversation is not about you.

NOVEMBER 28

SM calls two people running a fan event “horrendous racists” and claims they’re both responsible for sending him and his friends anon hate.

He offers no proof to back up either of these claims. While it’s hard to prove a negative (that these people didn’t send him hate), most posts of this ilk that I’ve seen on Tumblr have something in the way of evidence. Again, he offers none.

Although there’s some interesting circumstantial evidence that implies he himself has sent people he’s disagreed with anon hate. More on that directly below.

OCTOBER 1

SM claims there were doxxing threats made to him.

NOTE: While talking about this here, I am going to leave out the name of the person he accused. I’ve spoken with her in the DMs and to hear her tell it, SM and his little friends really went out of their way to harass her. Obviously, I don’t want to rope her back into this any more than is necessary after the shit they put her through. And so for this section, I will be calling her User and the equally ambiguous “she”.

The claim of doxxing was, in fact, bullshit.

Here’s how it went down, according to User: User was getting harassed and noticed via her statcounter that someone from Clearwater FL was showing up on her blog again and again.

So she made a post that simply said, “Clearwater, FL” and tagged it “statcounter” and “stop stalking me”.

From there, SM made the above post about how someone (meaning User) was threatening to doxx him.

In response to this buffoonery, User wrote this post and pinned it to her profile:

Please note that while she edited out his IP address, I edited out her tumblr url. In her post (which is still up), her url is visible on this statcounter.

SM has made it public knowledge that he lives in Florida. And while he might not be comfortable with people knowing the exact city he’s doing his stalking from...it’s his fault I was able to put this together? User didn’t need to tell me this was him. I knew it before I asked her about it. She confirmed it, yes. But the only reason I arrived at that conclusion was I saw he lives in FL, I saw him publicly saying he was being doxxed while putting together my timeline (I didn’t see this as it was happening), and then me remembering having seen the above post from the person he stalked previous to all this research.

Plus like...she’s one of the “horrendous racists” he’s supposedly had blocked since August at the earliest, November at the latest. Why is he still visiting her blog this much? This one, imo, is on him.

But either way you slice it, he accidentally copped to this being him being spoken about. And as you might imagine, stalking isn’t a part of the anti-racist ally protocol. Obviously.

Thus ends the “doxxing” saga.

And so now we get to the catalyst for this whole post.

Because here’s where I actually enter the picture and can speak to things I have first hand knowledge of.

DECEMBER 12

Christopher Rice makes a post on his mother’s Facebook page letting everyone know that Anne had died from complications from a stroke.

It didn’t take long for this news to spread to Tumblr. And from that second forward, the Anne Rice tag was flooded with posts from people (presumably) outside of the fandom making jokes about now being able to write fanfic. Something that was obviously upsetting to fans of her work, myself included, I’ll admit.

Of note: I saw a total of two posts in the tag that weren’t either fans mourning or people making fic jokes. One was someone bringing up how Anne once stood up for a romance writer’s right to write a “Holocaust survivor falls for a Nazi” novel and this tweet.

December 19

SM makes this openly antagonistic post.

There’s quite a bit to unpack there, but I’ll try to make it brief as this post is already monstrously long and I already addressed this post in my response (more in a second).

“I’m not saying you have to think & feel like I do. I’m not going to invade your space & tell you you’re wrong if we disagree. I’m using my own space only & that’s it.”

Except he didn't though. He posted this to the Anne Rice tag. A public space. This defense only holds water if he left it untagged for just him and his followers to see.

But I think that was part of his plan. Because no one can be stupid enough to post something so openly vitriolic to a tag where fans are sharing stories of grief and their conflicted feelings about Anne as a person and creator and expect something like this post to not cause a stir.

"It’s just been extremely weird watching people practically tearing their hair out over a rich stranger who died of old age during a pandemic, acting like it’s the greatest tragedy of all time.

We all die, I don’t know what to tell you there, & dying of old age is a luxury most of us don’t get, especially since covid has been on the scene. She died the way that most rich, white people die. Rich & isolated from the real world, with a lot of people on the internet ready to weirdly give up their own life defending them too."

His emphasis, not mine.

This isn’t a gripe with Anne. This is directed at people who are actively in grief. Which is already a complicated emotion but becomes more difficult to navigate when your feelings are conflicted about the person you’re grieving.

This is an intentionally malicious post. It’s clear he’s pissed and he’s acting out on it.

Again, this is not how an ally acts. Allyship requires maintaining a level head. Remember: Do consider taking a pause and returning to the conversation at a different time if you feel like the conversation is moving more towards conflict and away from conversation.

It was clear to me from reading the above chunk of text that this was not a good faith post. I skimmed the rest. None of it was news to me. And surprise surprise, reading a refresher course on different problematic shit Anne had done wasn’t enough to magically make the grief of losing one of my favorite authors evaporate. Weird, how that works.

And so I made the following response.

Was it minorly bitchy? Sure. But the points I made still stand to this day.

And my question remains unanswered. I still don’t know who that post was for.

Well, I do. It was for himself and the benefit of his ego. But I didn’t expect him to cop to that. So.

Oh well.

Later that same day, SM makes this post about how he is taking a break from Tumblr and how we’re all terrible, etc etc. Second verse, same as the first. This is, indeed, the song that never ends.

This was his response to me, I’m pretty sure. Hard to know when he refuses to call people out by name or (heaven forbid!) speak to them directly. But the reason I’m fairly certain this was about me was that I was the only one in the notes that was even slightly confrontational towards him. And even still, I wasn’t even that harsh. I didn’t call him any names, I didn’t try to claim that his points were in bad faith (I didn’t know him. I still don’t, I just know what he’s posted to tunglr dot hell). All I did was ask the question, who is this post for exactly? And instead of providing an answer, he folded like a lawn chair in a hurricane, and implied that the people who interacted with his posts in a way that didn’t absolutely lick his hole lacked the ability to experience emotions.

“Nobody here knows half the shit that’s been done to me because of speaking up about this bc I have chosen to not focus on it.”

surejan.gif

The post is all manipulation, but not even good manipulation which proves that practice doesn’t always make perfect.

And that’s pretty much the end of this saga (for now—I’m sure he’ll have some sort of reaction to this post probably). But to put a neat little bow on the learning portion of our call out post, let me pull one more excerpt from this last post of his:

“I asked for help from people who I thought were involved here to make this feel like a community for everyone & I found out that’s actually not many people’s interest at all.”

Imagine for a moment that you have a roommate. You’re sitting on the couch and your roommate is in the kitchen. Roomie calls your name and asks for your help. You walk into the kitchen. “I need help!” Roomie reiterates, standing in the middle of the room with their hands at their sides. “Okay, with what?” “Help.” “Yes, with what?” “I need it.” You stare at your roommate. Your roommate stares at you. The fridge fan whines. A moth throws itself uselessly against the bare bulb above you. “H el p .. .” Your roommate gurgles. The sun explodes, end scene.

The point is, sure. He asked for help. But he was never clear what he needed help with, other than the vague goal of “fighting racism in fandom”. He had no game plan. He didn’t tell anyone what platforms were the worst for it. He didn’t name names. He didn’t do anything of any use. When you’re the one who feels comfortable being the first to make the rallying cry, you better point in a direction in which to lead the charge.

The only time he was at all specific with any of this was when he said he was getting hate anons. Anyone who has been on the internet for more than 20 minutes knows it’s not worth fighting with anons. Plus...they’re anonymous? How were any of us supposed to know who they were? How are we meant to fight what are essentially ghosts??

And thus concludes the bit where we all talk about allyship in a relatively calm, levelheaded way. Now we move on to our final chapter:

But Molochaii...You Know How This Looks, Right?

Hey, man. I wanna say “welcome to your tape” but I’m still alive when I’m sure you wish I weren’t. It’s fine, we can move past the inconvenient fact that I’m both speaking to you and respirating.

When you’re ready, take my arm and we’ll take a little stroll down memory lane together while I ask you questions Ghost of Tumblr Posts Past style. A little late for the reference, but I move in my own time.

You remember that time you rambled for way too long about how bad you feel for Tom Cruise for being a Scientologist? And before you say, “He’s in a cult! Do you have any idea—” Yeah, actually. I do. My family (myself included) was in a cult. I do know. Do you know who doesn’t have a bad time in cults? The people who benefit from how the cult operates. Tom’s doing just fine in Scientology. With that out of the way, I have more questions: Where was this level of nuance and sensitivity for Anne? Do you think only having sympathy for terrible people you’re a fan of and no sympathy for terrible people you’re not a fan of is hypocritical? Yes or no. Do you think you’ll be sad when Tom dies? Do you think it’ll hurt your feelings to see people celebrating his death while you’re mourning it? Say yes or lie to me and yourself. Do you think this black and white (no pun intended) thinking helps or hinders your attempts at allyship?

Hey, Molochaii. You remember when someone very calmly laid out their point of view and you moved the goal posts and then shut the conversation down? Did you read the resources I linked at the top of this post? Do I need to repeat myself again? Do you see where you fucked up, or is your ego blocking your view?

Hey, Mol—can I call you Mol? You remember when a WOC replied to a post of yours and you refused to engage in any meaningful way with her? How you didn’t reblog her response as a way of “amplifying oppressed voices before your own”?

Hey, Chii Chii—can I call you Chii Chii? You remember when instead of interacting in a meaningful way with that WOC, you screenshotted and then cropped a very good point from her response to you, and then tried to use that as some sort of slam dunk but instead of a ball it was your point and instead of a hoop it was a toilet? You remember how you implied that she was lying about her race? Do you think that denying that there is a difference between ignorance and hatefulness is helpful to your allyship work? Do you think you know better about racism than a WOC?

Hey, Moldavia. Do you have a moment to read this quote from guidetoallyship.com? ”Lack of self-awareness is not a trait of an ally. You’ll be complicit in the oppression of those you intend to help. If you choose not to understand this, but label yourself an ‘ally’, you’re essentially a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You’ll find ways to infiltrate vulnerable communities and wield far more power than someone who is outwardly ‘-ist’ or ‘-ic’ because you’re ‘trusted’.” Do you have time to take this quote to heart, or are you too full of yourself to create space for it?

Hey, Molotov cocktail. You remember how in a post where you bemoaned the fact that you weren’t getting enough attention, you admitted to the fact that you’re as petty as a 12 year old? Do you think this admission makes me or anyone with more than two brain cells to rub together likely to believe that you’re the type of person who people can easily disagree with without you throwing a hissy fit before trying to make yourself the victim in every situation? You remember how you copped to being “incredibly bad at having limits”? Do you see how these two things make it very easy to believe that you’d be the type of person to harass people via anon hate?

Hey, Mollycoddled Man Child. You remember when you were still so upset with other people in this fandom getting more attention than you that you felt the need to make TWO posts about it in one day a couple weeks after the post above?

You remember how you did that at the end of July, right before your supposed crusade against racism in fandom really started to ramp up in August?

Do you see how that looks? Do you know that it’s not a good look? Are you happy now? Do you plan on stopping anytime soon?

Oh and for your trouble:

#anne rice #the vampire chronicles #vampire chronicles #tvc

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iamdeku · 3 years

Text

Needy: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Me? Making a fic title that isn’t based off a song somehow? Seems unlikely.

Warnings: school stress. makin’ out. not proofread.

For @sems-diarie

You hated your classmate Bakugou Katsuki with a passion. He was arrogant, brash, and extremely loud. He was rude to you and he was rude to everybody else and he was completely convinced he was the greatest thing to ever exist. There was really only one thing you hated more than Bakugou.

Being teamed up with him for your class’s newest group project.

You had pleaded and begged with Aizawa to let you pair up with literally anyone else, but he was unyielding. All of his pairings were final, and you and Bakugou were no exception. You were just going to have to learn how to work with him, your grades be damned, apparently.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, taking your seat next to Bakugou the day after your group pairings had been announced. “You are not going to mess up my grades. If anyone is going to mess up my grades it’s going to be me. I don’t think you’re an idiot. I know you’re an idiot. So just sit down, shut up, and follow my lead.”

You were perhaps slightly harsher than necessary, even for a guy like Bakugou. In your defense though, you’d had a truly garbage day. Your coffee machine had broken, leaving you with no caffeine this morning. It was an expensive coffee machine too, and you weren’t sure when you would be able to buy a new one. You had spent half of your morning looking for the manual to the coffee machine in the hopes that Momo could just create another one for you, and by the time you realized what time it was you had no opportunity to do anything but toss your clothes on before heading to class. On your way to class, it had rained, soaking you through because you had forgotten your umbrella and provoking Mineta to make a comment on the clinginess of your wet uniform. You had gotten a worse grade than you were expecting on your last test, you had tripped and spilled all of your lunch across the floor, and now here you were, having to sit next to your assigned group partner, hair still damp and mood still very, very bad.

“Hey, I don’t know who you think you are extra, but I’m no idiot. If you think we’re not beating everybody else in this class, then you’re wrong. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but Bakugou Katsuki never loses.”

You had known the great Bakugou Katsuki for the last 3 years of yours and his UA career, and now, in your final year, you were pretty confident that you still knew him. You knew him as a guy who had definitely lost before in the past. There was no particular shame in that, but you couldn’t afford to lose this time, especially not on Katsuki’s account.

“You better be right about that, pretty boy, because this grade is important to me. If we get a bad grade on this assignment it’s going to throw off my entire average, which I really can’t afford right now. Speaking of which, we really don’t have the time for all this dilly-dallying. Let’s get to work, king explosion murder,” you mocked.

To your surprise, the ever confident Bakugou turned bright red at the old nickname.

“Whatever. Let’s just get to work. We’re going to have to trade contact information so we can figure out a time to meet up. Plus I don’t trust you not to screw this up without my advice.”

You rolled your eyes. The nerve of this boy. The sheer gall.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” You reached into your soggy backpack and pulled out a pencil and a piece of paper, scribbling down your phone number.

“We should just be able to meet up in one of the dorm’s common areas. The trick will be finding a time when everyone else isn’t working there.”

You sighed, knowing your classmates wouldn’t make the scheduling of this easy. Even ignoring the fact that you might have to deal with their noise and obnoxious planning, Bakugou’s sleep schedule was another barrier to your project design. He went to bed early enough to severely limit your time for working on the group project. You honestly didn’t know when he found the time for homework. If you didn’t do yours immediately it probably wouldn’t get done until the very last minute.

“We can just study in our rooms. It will be quieter there.” Bakugou shrugged.

You froze at his casual words. Study in your rooms? As in study in his room? Nobody had ever been invited into Bakugou’s room. Not his best friend Kirishima. Not his childhood rival Midoriya. Not even that girl from the gen-ed course he’d dated when you were second years. Nobody.

“Uh…are you sure?”

“Yeah. Why?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re making a weird face, idiot.”

You shook your head. “Nothing. I was just thinking. Yeah, we can just study in our rooms. Just text me before randomly showing up, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Aizawa was starting up class, causing you both to shut up. You felt a part of you get very excited that you might be about to see Bakugou’s room. There was something sort of forbidden to the feeling, fluttering around in your chest like a stupid flock of butterflies or something. You were sure it was just the appeal of his room, the secrecy of it all. You loved knowing other people’s secrets. That must have been what it was.

As it turned out though, your hopes and dreams were all in vain. Bakugou texted you to ask about studying, not in his room, but your room. You complied of course. As much as you wanted to see the inside of his mysterious room, you respected his privacy. After all, rooms were sacred. Your room was a deeply personal expression of yourself, and you weren’t about to pry into his space. It wouldn’t get you a better grade anyway, seeing as your project wasn’t on the inside of Bakugou’s room.

You had cleaned up your room earlier in preparation for this moment, anticipating that sooner or later Bakugou would want to study in your room even if you had briefly entertained hopes that he would want to study in his. Your normally messy desk was cleared off, your bed was made and your dirty laundry was all in the basket where it belonged. If you hadn’t cleaned the room yourself you would probably think that you didn’t live here.

Bakugou walked into the room with all the posturing of royalty, shoulders thrown back confidently as he eyed your room. He sniffed, passing whatever final judgement he would, and proceeded to sit down at your desk.

“Nice room, nerd. Cleaner than I thought it would be.”

You grew uncomfortably warm at the truth of his accusation, feeling specifically called out. Could he possibly have heard you vacuuming earlier? It didn’t matter. You didn’t care about his opinion.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get to work, shall we?”

You pulled out your notebook, taking a seat on the floor and gesturing for him to join you.

“Why are you sitting on the floor, idiot?”

“I don’t have two chairs for both of us to work at the desk, so therefore the floor is our next best option.”

“No it isn’t.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “You have a bed, don’t you? We can just sit on your bed and that way you don’t have to break you tailbone on the floor. Unless you like sitting on the hard floor.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring up at the challenge.

You pushed off from your hand, standing so you could loom over where he sat at your desk. “Fine. Bed it is then.”

You took a seat on your bed as he stood up from your desk chair he had invited himself to sit in. You waited for him to take his spot next to you on the bed, but he hesitated. For a guy who had suggested this idea, he didn’t seem to like it very much. Your surprise wore off though when you realized that he was being…awkward. Bakugou Katsuki was being awkward.

Was it you? Had you done something to make him uncomfortable? Or had he just been shy this whole time?

You could have laughed at him, but instead you took pity. You remembered your first year, when you had been painfully awkward. Maybe Bakugou had always been like that and you had just never had occasion to notice until now.

“Go ahead,” you said, patting the bed next to you. “Take a seat. I don’t bite, and even if I did you would like it.”

You laughed a little bit at your own joke, even if Bakugou didn’t seem to think it was very funny. You did succeed in getting him to sit on the bed though, so some small victories were won. He was stiff and sat much farther away from you than necessary, but he sat nonetheless.

After hours of working together, you managed to have a rough outline for the project. It was sort of a tricky project, based around gathering knowledge and making a presentation on the hero you thought to be the best. Bakugou had insisted with surprising vehemence on making it on All Might, and you agreed with him. After all, he was the symbol of peace and had been the #1 hero for decades. Even though this was a move you would have predicted more from Midoriya, you figured if you were going to do this project you might as well do it right.

Bakugou got up to head to bed, but you stopped him before he could leave. “Hey…I didn’t know you were so into All Might.”

Bakugou blushed, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“I mean, we all love All Might, don’t we?”

“I mean, I know I do.” You laughed a little to set him at ease before revealing a little bit of yourself. “When I was a kid All Might was always my favorite hero because of his smile. I always thought that if someone were ever to come save me, I would want them to smile at me like that.”

Bakugou was silent for a moment, thinking about your words.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I was always so impressed by his strength, and the way people loved him. I always wanted to be loved like that. I wanted to make people believe that I could help them. That they could trust me.”

There was a deep sense of vulnerability to his words that made you want to know more and made you want to understand this boy you had clearly underestimated.

“Is that why you became a hero?”

He huffed, retreating back into himself. “I became a hero to prove I was better than everybody.”

In a way, it was a yes.

“Have a goodnight, Bakugou.”

He stopped in your doorway, looking back at you with a hint of that vulnerability from earlier.

“Goodnight.”

You had been working nonstop for the past 4 days. You had your schedule set up to an unreasonable level of strictness. You would work for an hour, watch a 10 minute motivational video, then work for an hour again. The only real breaks you took were to eat and sleep, and it was starting to wear on you. You just had so much work to do, and you needed to be free this weekend for the sleepover Mina was having, but you were exhausted.

You had finally reached a breaking point tonight, and you found yourself sitting in your bed crying. You weren’t pretty crying either. It was an ugly, exhausted cry, yanked out of you by the hours of work and stress. You had fallen onto your side, curled up in bed as the sounds choked out of you, ugly things breaking you open and cracking your chest and your voice.

Because of all the stress you had been under, you had completely forgotten about your group project. You had met up with Bakugou the first couple of days, but yesterday you had begged off and reschedule for…today. Right now.

You didn’t even hear Bakugou’s polite knock on your door, the same three knock rap he had given the last few days before coming in to work on your project with you for an hour. If he thought you were ignoring him or just not there, it didn’t stop him from coming in. You didn’t notice, completely oblivious to his presence until he spoke.

“Are you hurt?”

He rushed over to your side, rolling over your body to inspect you. His hands were surprisingly gentle as they skimmed over your body, checking for injuries, gently pressing into the divots of old scars. He found no hurt on you though, and pulled back, frowning.

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

You sniffled loudly, shamefully wiping your arm across your face.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, repeating it for your own benefit. “I’m fine, I’m totally fine. Everything is fine.”

“You sound like stupid Deku. Every time he’s ever told me he was fine he was lying.”

You choked out a giggle against your will. “Yeah, he does that doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does. But unlike Deku you’re not stupid. You want to explain this little episode to me?”

“I’m just…stressed.” You sighed, explaining your situation to him.

He sat back, stunned. “Well no wonder you finally broke. Nobody can work like that. You have to have fun, you idiot!”

For such a nice sentiment, he said it awfully aggressively. He almost made you burst into tears again, but he seemed to realize his mistake, quickly softening his voice again as he floundered for something to say.

“I…you…I’ve never seen you cry before,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I do it. This may come as a surprise but I’m human too, y’know.”

His hands still rested on your thighs, and you looked up at him hesitantly, breath catching in your throat. You had, of course, noticed that he was pretty before. Sharp cheek bones, harsh blond hair, bright red eyes that dug into your soul. Somehow though, he had gotten prettier over the past couple of days as you had gotten to know him, gotten to understand him better.

Before, you had thought he was arrogant. From your conversations though, you knew better. He just cared about people too much. Cared about their opinions too much, feared rejection. You offered up a little piece of yourself in exchange for everything he had admitted to you.

“Remember what I told you about All Might being my favorite hero? I thought to be a good hero you had to always be smiling. You could never show weakness. Not anger or sadness or anything else. That’s why you’ve never seen me cry before. Why I’m always so happy go lucky. Because I have to be.”

There was a pause while Bakugou processed that information.

“That’s…stupid,” he decided. “You shouldn’t hold back on your emotions like that. You deserve to feel things. You can’t dedicate your life to other people like that.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m starting to figure that out.” You stared down at your bedspread.

You were shocked when you felt a warm, calloused hand brush your cheek. Bakugou hesitantly, tenderly wiped the last of your tears away, and you felt something in your heart flutter. You had known Bakugou Katsuki a long time, but you had never known him like this. Looking up into his eyes did nothing to dispel your butterflies when you saw how soft his gaze was. Something in you ached to be looked at like that, to be held in someone’s hands as carefully as he was holding you now.

“Can I…can I kiss you?”

You weren’t sure where the question had come from, and yet you were, because some time along the way of getting to know him you had realized something. Everything you had thought there was to hate about Bakugou was really something to love. Over the course of this project, you had done something extraordinarily stupid. You had developed feelings for a boy who would never like you back. Which was why his next words stole your breath entirely.

“Please,” Bakugou said, his words a sticky sweet, fervent plea.

You blinked, daring to look at him again only to find him wide open to you. He was leaning forward, a look in his eyes you could scarcely describe, a feverish desire overcoming him. His hand on your face twitched ever so slightly in anticipation as you leaned forward.

When your lips met his, you were surprised by the easiness of it. You fell forward into him, arms draped around his broad shoulders as he pulled you in, large hand wrapping around your waist, firm and capable. He tasted like burnt sugar, impossibly so, and it made your head spin, made you dizzy with the sensation. It made you hungry for him.

When he licked your lower lip, you let him swallow you down, hands blazing a fiery trail across your waist to your back, making the trip over and over and burning into you with their warmth. You tugged on his hair lightly, eliciting a moan from him that shot straight through your chest. You gasped into his open mouth, your clumsy kiss flipping when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Everything became easier when you let him take over, let him pull you into his lap up against the hardness of his body and tilt your head to the side just so, pliable and soft in his arms. Kissing him became easy and natural, shivers running through your body as you surrendered yourself to the experience.

When he finally pulled away, you found yourself licking a mixture of your spit and his off your mouth, not even minding how profoundly gross that was. Normally you would have shuddered, but you were far too busy staring at him, mesmerized and breathless.

“You, uh…that was…that was really nice. And I think you’re pretty.” Bakugou coughed. “Do you want to go out sometime? Because obviously you need somebody to distract you from your homework, stupid. Look what you did. Made a mess of yourself.”

You ducked your head into his shoulder at his words, hiding your face and your embarrassment. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

He hummed, the sound resonating in his chest and traveling straight to your ear. “Can I…kiss you again then?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

#you guys have to tell me if there are any glaring mistakes in here it is the law #i was too tired to proofread it #mha #bnha #bakugou katsuki #agedup!bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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sanhaswife · 3 years

Text

⚝ ᴏᴜʀ ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀɪᴄ, ᴅʏɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

⚝ ᴅᴇɴᴋɪ ᴋᴀᴍɪɴᴀʀɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

- ғʟᴜғғ + ᴀɴɢsᴛ

~ It all started when an old classmate comes back to town. In a flash, your world comes crumbling down, when you noticed that something had changed. More specifically, that a certain someone changed. He stopped holding your hand, stopped giving you kisses before heading out...stopped saying those 3 words you were so desperate to hear. All for what? What went so wrong when everything was going so right?

WC: 7.7k

It was the middle of the first semester when you transferred to UA. Your family had just moved from the next town over, due to work. At first, it was hard to find the courage to speak up and find some friends. Everyone just looked so...intimidating, especially the students in class 1-A. You got the chills whenever they walked by; it was scary to think that there was such a huge gap in abilities despite being the same age. Your quirk couldn’t even compare; the most you could do was emit little orbs of light from your hands. It was helpful in the dark, but you never bothered to really enhance it due to the embarrassment of having such a useless quirk. Honestly, it was a miracle that you were accepted by the school; maybe luck was on your side for once.

One day, class was finally over, and as you prepared to go home, it suddenly started to downpour. You didn’t have an umbrella on hand, so you headed to the lost and found located at the entrance of the school to find a spare. “None...just as I thought.” Grumbling, you sat down at the steps of the school’s doors to watch the rainfall. You couldn’t call your parents because they were busy with work, and you couldn’t ask a friend for an umbrella because, well...you were too much of a coward to even walk up to anyone. Sighing, you decided to wait for the rain to stop at the steps. Other students passed by laughing along with their friends, some sharing an umbrella while they walked home.

Must be nice...you thought. Moving to a new school was always tricky, especially in the middle of a semester. Everyone already moved passed from the introductions and formed their own little groups amongst themselves. There was no space for an outsider like you. The thought of spending the rest of the semester alone made you hug your knees, and with one last sigh, you laid your forehead against your arms.

Just as more and more depressing thoughts were burning into your mind, someone tapped on your shoulder. Freezing, you slowly looked up, your eyes meeting soft gold ones. “Hey! Are you okay?” His voice, you swore- was as sweet as honey, and his smile was oh so charming. You recognized him as Denki Kaminari...one of the boys from the class next door. “Lightni-” You suddenly coughed, stopping yourself from blurting out the stupid nickname your classmates had for him. Lightning Bolt...Am I stupid? How could I just say that when-

“Woah, that was some cough. Are you okay?” He asked again. You nodded; you didn’t want to embarrass yourself any further, so you stood up, wiping the back of your skirt free from dirt before facing him. “O-oh yeah! I’m just...waiting.” You didn’t continue since you were now facing one of the cutest boys you had ever seen in your life. He cocked his head to the side with a small laugh. “Waiting...for what?” The hot feeling of embarrassment rose up to your cheeks. Trying again, you stuttered while looking down at your shoes. “For the rain to s-stop. I don’t have an umbrella, and there’s no more in the lost and found box.”

God, if you’re really out there, just kill me now. You were mentally beating yourself over the fact that you couldn’t properly speak to a single boy. Thinking about how dumb you must’ve looked standing there, you suddenly felt gentle fingers pushing away your hair to reveal your face. You were once again faced with Denki’s bright smile. “Is this hide and seek? Why are you hiding from me?” You couldn’t help but giggle; he was too cute. Standing up straight, you pushed back your hair and properly faced him. “I’m Y/N, I’m new.” Finally, with a little bit of courage, you were able to properly face someone and stuck out your hand. With a chuckle, Denki took your hand and shook it gently. “Haha, it’s like we’re businessmen or something. I’m Denki! Denki Kaminari!” His laugh was contagious, and soon you both were laughing, standing like a pair of fools at the school’s entrance. Still holding your hand, he lifted up his other one showing off an umbrella. “Shall I walk you home?”

You blinked in surprise. This was your first meeting with Denki yet...he was there holding your hand and offering to walk you home. It was weird, but it felt good. Really good to have such a cute and goofy guy showing you so much attention.

The rest of the day consisted of you and Denki getting to know each other still holding hands. Eventually, you both were so comfortable talking with each other it started to feel like you’ve been friends for years. By the time he dropped you off at your door, you both had exchanged numbers and promised to walk to school together in the morning. Surprisingly enough, turns out you were neighbors. The next day, you opened the front door to find Denki waiting for you.

On the way to school, you shared with him that it was difficult to speak up and make friends, so he decided to help you out by introducing you to some of the girls in his class before the bell rang. For once, you felt like you fit in; finally, you were able to make some friends, and they were actually interested in getting to know you. Even though you may be in a different class, some of the girls like Momo, Mina, and Uraraka offered to show you around town after school. It felt good and seeing Denki eager to introduce you to the rest of his class made you happier. Afterschool was a dream come true too. The girls of 1-A invited you to hang out with them and some of the boys, including Denki. Everyone decided to go watch a comedy movie after showing you around and you ended up sitting next to Denki.

Throughout the movie, he silently passed you little handfuls of candy and popcorn, even going as far as to offer you sips of his soda. Technically, it had only been a day since you started talking. Still, all of the attention he kept giving you was indescribable, and you weren’t able to get rid of the big smile on your face. It didn’t help that after the movie, when everyone started going their separate ways, Denki once again offered to walk you home. “You know you don’t have to ask, right? We’re neighbors; we have to walk together anyways.” He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck while looking down at his shoes. “I just like asking, that’s all.” His response only made you smile like a kid.

When you reached your front door, you were about to say goodbye when Denki grabbed your hand with an anxious expression on his face. “Y/N?” You squeezed his hand in reassurance and cocked your head to the side. “Yes, Denki?” His cheeks started to glow a soft pink when he looked up at you. “Today was really fun, and yesterday was really amazing. I think...I t-think I like you.” He shook his head fast, “No! No, no, no, I like you! You’re so cool and funny, and like...really pretty. I'm sorry I never really talked to you before any of this, but in a not-so-creepy kind of way, I've seen you around. Or more like, I've been watching you? Call it love at first sight, but-” Denki was rambling, and your heart was pounding in your ears. You stood there with a big smile and looked down at your linked hands. “And?” His free hand reached out, and he gently tilted your chin up with his finger to meet his eyes. “And...do you want to go out with me?”

PRESENT DAY:

It’s been six years since then. Of course, you said yes and started dating; he broke the news to everyone the next day, and life had been great. You’ve both graduated and were now engaged, sharing a small apartment together. Your relationship with Denki was like a dream. Every day was fun, and his childish, goofy personality made everything as bright as his smile. Thanks to him, you were able to get out of your shell, surpass your insecurities, and were doing relatively pretty well. While you did work at home, your business career was at its peak and your overall health mentally and physically was great.

At the moment, you were both getting ready to go out. The class of 1-A decided to hold a small reunion at a restaurant downtown. As Denki’s fiance, he insisted you come with him. He was bubbling with excitement to tell everyone about all of your marriage plans, like which dress would be prettier or which venue would be the best for the wedding. It had only been about two months since you’ve officially been engaged, but you had asked Denki to wait before telling anyone, to wait for the right moment to announce it to everyone. After graduation, you still stayed in contact with some of the girls from school like Momo and Mina since they decided to stay in the same town, but you found it hard to contact people who had moved away.

“Are you ready?” Denki’s arms wrapped themselves around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You were standing in front of the full-length mirror in the room, not noticing that you stopped finishing up your makeup. Smiling, you quickly applied some last-minute touches and reached behind you to pat Denki’s head. “Okay, let’s go, or else we’re going to be late.”

LATER:

Finally, at the restaurant, you were both led to a private section in the back. Opening the doors, you were faced with everyone from class 1-A, everyone but one person. You and Denki sat in the back next to each other with an empty space on his left at the end of the table, plates of food warm and ready to be eaten. Next to you was Mina, and in front of you sat Momo, Uraraka, and Tsuyu. The room was filled with laughter, loud bickering from the boys, and multiple different conversations being held at once. You were having a conversation with Mina when Denki tapped your shoulder. “Hey, isn’t someone missin-”

“Jirou’s here!” Cheering erupted from the table as Jirou stepped in. She looked flawless, she let her hair grow out, and her outfit looked like something of a biker’s which her spikey leather jacket decorated with cute pins, a white crop top, and black ripped jeans with a pair of black boots. Everyone welcomed Jirou and complimented her appearance before ushering her to take a seat next to Denki. At first, you were envious of Jirou; she looked so...grown and pretty. Like incredibly pretty, in a badass biker chick kind of way. And you were about to compliment her when Denki suddenly covered you, hovering over the tale to tangle his fingers between Jirou’s long silky hair. “You grew it out? It’s so pretty J, you look really pretty with your hair like this.” You admit it, Denki was a bit too touchy when it came to his friends, but you never had a problem with it before, so why were you feeling jealous? Jealous of a classmate?

Sure, you and Denki ended up never being in the same class throughout high school, and while you knew the other girls saw him most of the day, you were never jealous. Even when he was touchy with Mina or Momo or Uraraka, you were never envious. So why were you now? You sat there awkwardly as you watched the two engage in a conversation. Whenever she laughed loudly, you couldn’t help but peek over to see them. It was like a gross bubbly tar was flowing its way up to your spine and washed over you. But as it was going to reach its peak, ready to burst, the feeling died down when you remembered Denki’s plan to announce your engagement. With a smile, you patted your boyfriend’s shoulder to get his attention, but he didn’t turn your way. Being too engaged in his conversation with Jirou, he didn’t notice your touch, so you tapped his shoulder again a couple of times. “Yeah, I know! It’s so cool-” He jerked his head quickly at you, “What’s up? I’m in the middle of a-” He whipped his head back to Jirou to continue their conversation before going back to you with a chuckle. “Yeah?”

With a frown, you looked over his shoulder at Jirou, smiling before looking at Denki; you pointed to the engagement ring on your finger, not saying anything. He blinked a few times before leaning over to kiss your nose. “Just a few more minutes, okay?” He turned his attention back to Jirou, leaving you dumbfounded. The one thing he was so excited to share with everyone is now pointless to him. With a sad sigh, you turned to your side to face Mina, who grabbed your hand with a wide smile. “Aww, why the long face Y/N?” She pinched your cheek, which made you smile a bit, but you cocked your head for her to look behind you. Looking over, she saw Denki and Jirou laughing amongst themselves in their own little world before looking back at you with a sad smile. “You know they were like besties back in high school.”

“I know, Mina trust me, I know. I just..maybe I’m just a little jealous.” You felt ashamed saying it out loud, but Mina shook her head. “I know, girl, I bet you are. After all, those two were like inseparable; I mean, you already know about all the rumors that were going around about them.” You felt your heart grow heavy when you remembered; when you and Denki started dating, you confided in the girls about your relationship, happy to share the news with them. They were ecstatic for you, and as good friends, told you some things about Denki so you could get to know him better. At some point, one of them accidentally brought up the rumors of Jirou and her relationship with Denki. While it did cause some awkward tension between the two of you, it didn’t last long as she was an incredible person to talk to. She always shared cool stories about her life and gave the best advice when it came down to serious issues.

Two hours had passed, and Denki was still stuck talking with Jirou. At that point, you had grown quiet and tired of waiting, so you decided to take it upon yourself to break the news to everyone. Standing up, you clapped your hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone! I have important news to share with you all.” With a big smile on your face, you looked around at everyone’s faces but ignored Jirou. You reached down and grabbed Denki’s arm, tugging him to stand. Raising your hand, you pointed to the engagement ring on your finger and linked your arms with Denki while happily shouting, “We’re engaged!” There was a short pause amongst everyone before they all erupted in cheers. Everyone was standing now, and the girls crowding you to admire the ring while the boys congratulated a surprised Denki. Of course, one person in the crowd was just as surprised as Denki.

After the reunion, everyone was outside hugging each other and saying their goodbyes. You were hugging Momo and Tsuyu goodbye when you pulled away to look around for Denki. “Well, I hope you guys get home safe; I’m going to find Denki and get going too.” With a smile, the girls went off home, leaving you to find your fiance, and you did. He was at the restaurant's entrance with Jirou; she had her back against the wall with Denki next to her, leaning over her shoulder as the two laughed at something on her phone. Walking up to them, you forced a smile on your face and rubbed your arms. “Hey, honey, everyone’s gone off home. It’s time for us to go too. Also, can you pass me your jacket? It’s kinda cold out.” Denki slowly looked up at you and then looked behind you. “Damn, I forgot to say bye to everyone! If I text them, it should be fine, right?” You were about to answer him back when Jirou interrupted you. “Hah! Like Bakugo or Todoroki would answer you back.”

You sighed, annoyed, and tried again with Denki about the jacket. “Denki? Can I have your jacket?” He pulled away from Jirou and stood there rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward expression on his face. “Oh...sorry, I let Jirou borrow my jacket because hers was too thin and it’s cold.” Blinking, you turned to Jirou and saw the oversized jacket she now wore; she quickly started to take it off when you stopped her. “Keep it. Denki, let’s go home.” The feeling of anger burned throughout your body as you grabbed Denki’s wrist and pulled him away, dragging him straight to the car before hurrying into the passenger seat. He quietly sat down in the driver’s seat and turned the car on before deciding to speak up. “Are you...mad at me for something?” You loved Denki; you honestly did. But sometimes, he really was an airhead when it came to things other than math. “Can we just go home? Please?” The whole ride home was silent, and you spent it looking out the window.

At home, you were still angry, so without a word, you immediately went to the bedroom and gathered your things to take a shower. Denki walked in behind you and quietly sat down on the foot of the bed, watching you. "Y/N." He called, but you ignored him, grabbing your pajamas from the dresser. "Y/N." He called again, this time with a long sigh; you turned your body to face him and cocked a brow. "What?"

"Geez baby, if looks could kill- what's wrong? Is it because of the jacket?" Denki's words made your blood boil, you were ignored and were forced to make the announcement on your own, and he still couldn't figure out what was wrong? "Are you too much of an airhead to realize what you did to me back there?" Your words made Denki flinch in shock; he stood up with his arms crossed. "What? Honey, are you..." All of a sudden, he starts smirking. "Jealous?"

Your cheeks felt warm, and you looked away, quickly gathering your things up in your arms before making your way to the bathroom, only to get stopped by Denki blocking your way. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off of his large body. Towering over you, he slowly cupped your cheek and used his other to bring you closer to him, wrapping it around your waist. Bodies now touching, he raised your face up, which only made you frown. "I'm not jealous. Denki, you totally forgot about the announcement, and you ignored me." Your own words made you cringe when you said it out loud, but your boyfriend smiled at them. Leaning down, he pecked your nose and grabbed your wrist. Leading you to the bathroom, he closed the door behind you two and stripped off his shirt. "What are you doing, Denki?"

"Saving water!"

After a long and rather talkative shower with Denki, you both got ready for bed and slipped in. You both cuddled together after the long draining conversation, and for an apology, he did his best to make it up to you passionately by smothering you in kisses and hugs. Resting your head on Denki's clothed chest, he wrapped his arm around you and used his free hand to turn off the lights. Giving him one last hug, you fell asleep in Denki's arm that night.

TWO WEEKS LATER:

Despite making up that day, your relationship with Denki was slowly becoming more and more awkward. Some days, he didn't bother saying goodbye before leaving or bothered to wait for you so you could at least have breakfast together. It was weird; the apartment you shared slowly started to feel empty. So far, while you two were able to talk normally, it seemed like he was avoiding any kind of skinship with you. Always moving away too fast, telling you "not right now," or just completely walking away, he stopped doing a lot of things you now missed dearly.

Not only was he avoiding your touch, but he was also avoiding the apartment. Along with avoiding you at home, he was barely there Denki started more of his time outside of the apartment because of "plans." A gross, ugly feeling was rooted in your stomach whenever you worried about what he was doing, where he was, or who he was with.

One night, you finally decided to take the opportunity of Denki being in the shower after a long day to snoop around. You were in the middle of cooking when you heard the shower start; after waiting for a few minutes, you stopped what you were doing and entered the bedroom. Denki was in the bathroom, and he had left his phone on the bed along with his coat. Searching his jacket first, you explored the pockets for anything and found some receipts from restaurants and bakeries that were popular in town. With a frown, you shoved the receipts back into his pockets and moved onto his phone. Luckily, Denki was too lazy to bother with a password. Hence, you were able to easily access his text messages and call log. Checking his call log first, your heart dropped when Jirou's name showed. Scrolling down, you saw that for the past few days since the day of the restaurant incident, they had been calling each other back and forth multiple times every single day. You rushed to the text messages, filled with rage, concern, and jealousy; you searched his messages with Jirou.

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

You: That was fun! We should go back to try their new cake and maybe try that new coffee special they have?

J: That special is for couples, though, but I like your thinking.

You: Exactly! For couples!

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

J: Have you talked to her? Does she suspect anything?

You: Wdym? No, everything is fine over here, and she hasn't said anything. I mean, I'm avoiding her for a reason, you know?

J: Haha, I guess you're right. If she ever finds out, she's going to be so surprised ;)

You: Right! So let's continue the secret, and I'll meet you after she falls asleep.

J: Okay! See you at my place then.

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

A million thoughts were racing around in your head as you slowly put the phone back where it was and headed back to the kitchen. You felt numb, sick to your stomach. The text messages were flashing in your head, unable to get away from it. You stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking down at the stove with tears in your eyes. You didn't want to think anything of the text messages, but it clearly suggested something you didn't want to come to terms with.

Was Denki cheating on you with Jirou?

You knew about their history thanks to the girls. Before you transferred, Denki and Jirou were closer than best friends, he had asked her out only to be rejected. They stopped talking for a while, but when he met you and helped introduce you to everyone, it allowed them to start talking again. He always reassured you around that time that he was entirely over Jirou and that they agreed to stay friends, but what if...Jirou's feelings had changed? What if Denki's feelings have changed?

Jirou moved away after graduation and grew out her hair, and started a cool band. When she got to the reunion, Denki was all over her like a puppy; the thought of it made tears fall down your cheeks. Maybe he fell back in love with her? Perhaps she had grown too mature and pretty that he wanted to be with her instead now?

Maybe that's why there are so many receipts, you thought while wiping your tears away. Sighing, you continued cooking, and it was not too long after when Denki got out of the bathroom and walked into the kitchen with a loose shirt and random shorts. He leaned over your shoulder with a hum and walked away to the fridge. "At work, they gave me a last-minute assignment to finish up, so I think after this, I'm going to head out."

"Head out? You just finished your shower," You complained as you turned off the stove. He looked at you with a shrug and grabbed a plate from the cabinet, "Work is work honey, I'm just going to eat real quick and head out, okay?" His tone seemed cold as he moved around you and filled his plate with food before going to eat at the table. You lost your appetite just watching him. Everything was fine before Jirou showed up; everything was perfect before she showed up.

Why? Why? Why? Why?

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you walked around the kitchen counter towards Denki, who was finishing up eating, and reached to lay a hand on his arm. "Denki, I think-" but before you could touch him, he snapped his arm back and gave you the weirdest look. "What? What are you doing?"

Your heart shattered seeing your fiance's face; now even your touch was disgusting to him? You opened your mouth to speak, but Denki stood from his seat to place his plate in the sink. He said nothing as he left the kitchen, going into the bedroom; you could hear the rustle of clothes and then watched as he gave you a little wave before heading out. The sound of the front door closing behind him was enough to have you collapse where you once stood. Your chest felt tight like someone was squeezing your heart. Grief was all you felt in that moment, but soon that grief turned into anger.

You were still engaged to Denki; you both still had a wedding to plan, a wedding that was only a few months away. A wedding that Jirou was trying to ruin. You couldn't help but blame Jirou the most in this situation; everything changed when she came back, so she was clearly the root of the problem. Wiping away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, you slowly got up and dusted yourself off; heading to the bedroom, you looked around. Denki's clothes were thrown onto the floor and bed. Clearly, he had been in a rush to leave tonight. Quietly, you cleaned everything up and took a long hot shower to clear your mind. Obviously, it was not like you could've just followed Denki in hopes of catching him with Jirou. Still, despite rational thinking, you couldn't help but let the loneliness eat away at you.

That night, despite the heavy quilt that laid on top of you, everything felt cold. Numb is what you felt as you laid there staring at the ceiling. Old memories of fun and happy dates and moments between you and Denki flashed in your mind, but each one made you even more depressed than you already were. You don't know how much time had passed laying there when you heard the front door unlock. Rolling to your side in a flash, you quickly reached out for your phone, looking at the time it read 3:47. Frowning, you put your phone quietly back where it was on the nightstand and curled up, pretending you were asleep while Denki was on the other side of the bedroom door.

After a while, the door opened, and you could hear Denki quietly walking around the room. You could hear him changing into pajamas before the quilt on top of you was slowly lifted. Denki slipped into bed, but his back faced yours, and he stayed far from you; despite being in the same bed, you couldn't feel the heat of his body at all. It was sad to think that he used to fall asleep every night in your arms or you in his.

A FEW MONTHS LATER:

The situation with Denki worsened as the months went on. However, at least he was still active in the wedding planning, to your surprise. He was still out and about, most likely with Jirou, and still avoided you at all costs. But despite all the "evidence" you found, you couldn't help but keep quiet, for the most part at least. Nowadays, you and Denki fought over the littlest things. Once, you even brought up whether or not he still had feelings for a certain someone, which only led him to disappear for a few days before you begged him to come back. Still, even then, his attitude and wariness of you didn't change.

Now the wedding was officially two weeks away. Honestly, you often found yourself wondering why you still bothered to go through with everything. Planning every detail in regards to the wedding, handling everything with your dress, and more. Maybe a tiny part of you was hoping that Denki was just nervous about it all, the wedding, the commitment. Perhaps the wedding is something Denki needs to help him realize that you were still by his side, still waiting for him. While it did sound like a silly little fantasy in your head, you were still there, picking out flower arrangements with Denki and discussing the seating chart.

"I want Bakugo and Kirishima at table #1, oh and Sero too. Who else should we put there?" Denki asked while looking down at the huge seating chart laying in front of you two on the table. Despite his monotone voice, you tried your best to seem happy. Humming, you moved tiny slips of paper with people's names on it to table 1. "I want Mina, Momo, and...Uraraka." Looking down at the table, you saw that there was still one more seat left; lifting the slip of paper with Deku's name on it, you were about to move it when Denki beat you to it. "I want Jirou at table 1."

You froze on the spot; just seeing and hearing her name was enough to make your skin crawl. "I think we can both agree that Deku should be sitting there instead-"

"I said I want Jirou in that seat Y/N. I think she should be at table 1." You didn't bother looking at Denki's face to know he was mad that you dared to object. Not like he would care about what I had to say anyway, you thought. Gulping, you slowly set down the piece of paper in your hands and turned your head towards Denki, "Honey, please, if you could just listen to me-"

He threw his hands up in annoyance and scoffed. Shaking his head, he crossed his arms and gave you a blank look. "What's with all this hatred towards her? I thought you guys were good friends!" His words were making you feel guilty; maybe you were taking it a little bit too far? Over these past months, you knew every conversation with Jirou's name mentioned resulted in Denki trying to guilt-trip you. Still, you couldn't help but doubt yourself. Were you just simply jealous, and nothing was going on? You still had your suspicions, but you started to feel unsure more and more lately.

"Nevermind, Denki, let's just finish this up. This is the last time we're changing it, right?" You were too tired to argue with him any further. Just wanting it to be over you let Denki finish up the planning before sending it in for the planners to take charge. After that, the apartment you two shared stayed quiet; the only thing making noise was Denki's laughter from the bedroom and the TV playing in front of you. You stayed in the living room curled up in your favorite blanket, cringing every time you heard Denki laugh on the phone with her.

DAY BEFORE THE WEDDING:

Your nerves were getting the best of you as you stood at the entrance of the fancy dining hall you planned to use for the wedding. It was time for the rehearsal dinner, and your hands were shaking. Two weeks flew by like nothing, and now it was time for the practice test of the biggest moment of your life. You were standing, waiting for your cue to go up to the main table set up in the front. Looking around at the family and friends that filled the tables around the dining hall, you couldn't help but watch their faces light up in joy.

It was nerve-wracking, knowing that people were having high expectations of your's and Denki's wedding. Speaking of Denki, Where is he? you thought to yourself. Nervously grabbing your phone from your pocket, you called Denki for the nineteenth time, leading straight to voicemail. Earlier in the afternoon, you both arrived together at the wedding venue and went your own ways to greet friends and family but heard no word from him for the past two hours. Kirishima and Sero helped you look around the venue and call Denki, but with no luck, he had just vanished. Your stomach dropped when Sero came up next to you with a long sigh. "Y/N, I don't know where he is. I don't know what's wrong with him, and Jirou isn't here either."

His words had tears gathering in your eyes. Noticing, he handed you a napkin and intertwined your arms. "Sorry.." Shaking your head, you calmed yourself down and dabbed at your eyes before following Sero's lead to the main table. In the middle were two empty seats with seats of your parents and Denki's parents on both sides of them. "Where's the groom?" The planner asked with a confused expression. Unable to speak due to your nervousness, you were only able to shake your head before rubbing your shakey hands together. "I don't know. I really don't know."

Sero cut in with a worried tone, "We couldn't find him anywhere. Did you just want me to be a stand-in for the rehearsal?" The planner nodded in a panic, and with Sero as the stand-in for Denki, afterward, the rehearsal dinner continued on time as planned, many friends and family came up to you in worry. Many asked about the missing groom and what had happened, but again you were unable to answer. Depending on your friends to take over the situation, you quietly asked one of them to take you home.

The second you arrived at your front door, ready to unlock it, you couldn't help but pause. Denki skipped on his own rehearsal dinner, the rehearsal dinner for his own wedding. The fact was burning in your mind that he skipped and that someone else was probably skipping with him. It made your heart sink just by opening the door. Tears already flowing down your cheeks, you entered your home and locked the door behind you; turning back around, you started making your way to the bedroom when you stopped dead in your tracks.

On the living room, the sofa laid a sleeping Jirou who was covered with your favorite blanket. It was like your world was spinning, and all you could hear was a faint ringing in your ears. You don't know how long you were standing there when a figure suddenly came up in front of you, blocking your view. Denki...

You could say that all the anger, sadness, and loneliness building up inside of you finally burst because, in one second, you were frozen in place. In the next, you were grabbing whatever you could to throw at Denki. "You bastard! You! You! You! It was our rehearsal dinner! And you skipped?" You were blinded by your tears as you grabbed the small vase on your left and tossed it as hard as you could.

"What are you doing?!" You heard Denki yell at you to stop, but you couldn't; your body wouldn't listen to you. You just kept grabbing whatever you could get your hands on and tossed it as hard as you could. Glass shattered all around you, some in the entrance, in the kitchen, and the living room. At some point, you heard Jirou yelling at you to stop too, but it only fueled your rage. "You! You're the reason he doesn't love me anymore! You couldn't stay away? Tomorrow was supposed to be my day! My special day, and you're ruining it. You've ruined everything!" Finally, your knees gave out, and you collapsed to the floor with your face in your hands. Uncontrollable sobs ripped through your body as muffled voices surround you. "Why? Why Jirou, why? What did I do?"

Your body shook like crazy, and your hands didn't move from your face. Your emotions were just running wild at this point, all the built-up anger and sadness running free. "What did I do when you were the one who rejected him? Why did you steal him?"

The last thing you remember from that moment before passing out was panicked shouting and hands struggling to lift you up.

THE DAY OF THE WEDDING:

"Y/N? Are you awake?" Groggily, you opened your eyes to see your friends surrounding you. Momo, Tsuyu, Mina, Uraraka, Sero, and Deku stood on every side of you, happy that you finally opened your eyes. "Thought you were a goner there! Welcome back, kiddo." Mina had a goofy smile on her face and was about to crack some jokes before Sero nudged her arm with his elbow. "They're not here; if you're wondering, Denki is with the other guys preparing."

“What are you guys all doing here?” you asked and with the help of Momo and Deku, you sat up in your bed and quietly looked around. Everyone was watching you like you were about to collapse at any second. Memories of what had taken place last night rushed back, causing you to burst out crying. "Preparing for what? He doesn't love me! He loves her, and I know it, I'm not getting married today." The girls rushed to your side, comforting you the best they could while the boys quietly stood back.

After you were able to calm down, Sero explained that Denki had called them over to take care of you. While Jirou went with Denki to another location, it was as if Denki was scared. Scared of what exactly? Nobody knows, only that Sero heard from Denki himself that he couldn’t be in the same house as you at the moment. All you knew was that you no longer wanted to put on the dress you dreamed so long about, no longer wanted to say your vows to the one person you once trusted. But, with a lot of convincing and the help of your friends, you found yourself getting your hair and makeup done, your dress hanging in the closet, ready to be worn.

You felt like a doll sitting in the chair in front of the vanity; who were you getting so pretty for? There was bound to be no groom at that wedding, so what was the point of going through with it? Still, your friends did bring up enough good points to convince a small part of you to show up. To see if he would even show up.

LATER:

Finally, it was time for the wedding. Taking place in a beautiful, white church, you found yourself standing in front of closed doors with your father on your left and Sero on your right. Despite being Denki's best friend, Sero was at your beck and call, helping you whenever you needed, and you were extremely grateful. "They're going to open those doors any minute now, Y/N; I just want you to know that you need to do whatever you feel is best for you, okay? Do not force yourself." His stern tone had you nodding, which made him smile. "Good luck out there." With one last hug from Sero, he went on his way to join the rest of the people waiting inside.

You looked at your dad and then back at the church doors with shaky hands. Would Denki be waiting? Would he even be there? You didn't have enough time to wonder any longer due to the doors slowly opening. Getting in position, you watched as the church doors opened, revealing the aisle and everyone seated in the rows with happy faces. Gulping, your father began to walk you down the aisle. Thank god the veil was over your face; you looked at everyone who was whispering little congratulations and eventually stopped alongside your dad. Looking up, your heart swelled.

Denki was dressed in a classical tuxedo, his hair pushed back, a nervous expression on his face. In awe, you didn't notice your dad quietly handing your hand to Denki, which he nervously took. Taking your place on the stage with your hand in Denki's, you couldn't help but stare at him. Despite all the pain you've endured the past few months, he was still the same boy you fell in love with in high school.

The pastor began his sayings, and you tried your best to focus on his words and not the heat radiating from Denki's hand. Finally, the moment that you've waited for came. The pastor looked at both you and Denki before looking at the crowd. "Now, before we continue, if anyone has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace." At that moment, you dropped Denki's hand and held up yours. Audible gasps rang out throughout the crowd, and worried whispers began.

Denki shared a shocked expression with the pastor, but that didn't stop you from nervously opening your mouth to speak. "For the past f-few months, I've endured so much pain from you, your secrecy, your lies. I want you to confess right here and right now that the reason you don't touch me, love me, or talk to me is because you're still in love with Jirou."

More gasps rose from the crowd; Jirou stood up in a panic making many heads snap her way while Denki's heart dropped. "What?" You felt lightheaded looking up at Denki and seeing his pained expression; for the first time in months, you were able to see something other than hatred in his face. "Y/N...is that what you've been thinking this whole time? That I'm in love with Jirou?"

Jirou struggled out of the row she sat in and rushed up to the end of the stage in a panic, "Y/N, you got it all wrong!" Tears welled up in your eyes, and you shook your head and threw your hands up in frustration at their shouting. "You! Both of you! Playing me like a fool! Explain it then! Why have you been avoiding me? Like some plague in our own home, why don't you talk to me anymore? Why don’t you love me anymore?"

Your body began to shake again as you watched Denki step forward in an attempt to grab you. But you stepped back away from his touch. "You got it all wrong please let me explain!" Your vision was blurry, your heart bleeding, and your head cloudy; you didn't want an explanation. You just wanted him to confess, and he wouldn't. So you didn't bother. You whispered a small sorry and gathered the front of your dress before going down the steps of the stage and heading down the aisle. Many people rose from their seats, and everyone was talking at once. Denki was at your side in a flash; he grabbed your arm and turned you to face him where you struggled against his grasp.

"Listen to me! I avoided you because ever since high school, I knew you were the one! The one I wanted to be with forever Y/N, Jirou, has been helping me plan our honeymoon, and I've been taking extra jobs to pay off the house I bought for us. The one I bought for our future! Our kids! Y/N!" Denki's voice cracked tears of his own in his eyes. You couldn't believe your ears...you were wrong?

You continued to struggle, not being able to come to terms that he was possibly telling the truth. "No! I saw the messages; I saw her yesterday! You love her!" How embarrassing of a sight it must be for the guests to watch a bride fight against her groom.

Denki shook his head again and forced your body against his in a tight hug. "No! Y/N, please listen to me. Jirou was helping me plan this whole surprise for you. I've been saving up money since high school and have been working so many jobs just for you baby, please believe me. I didn't want to avoid you and act cold, but I had no choice! This was something I wanted you to never find out until the right moment; I never intended for it to go this way." Through his chest, you could hear Denki struggling to breathe as he held you tight in his arms, but it wasn't enough.

"I'm a dumbass Y/N. I didn't realize I was hurting you and was too obsessed with the idea of this big surprise and not spoiling it that I neglected you, and I'm sorry!"

His words were enough to give you strength to push him off of your body. Taking a deep breath in, you looked at Denki through watery eyes and shook your head in agony. "You better be." Gathering the front of your dress again, you turned away from him, your friends, your family, and ran. Running out the church doors to the church entrance with worried shouting behind you, you quickly rushed down the church's steps. You focused your attention on your dad's car parked across the street, luckily with the windows down. Thankful for your dad's forgetfulness. The keys would still be inside, and the window was already down, so you would've been able to just leave and never turn back. With a big smile on your face, you hurried to the car.

Running to the car with your hand out, you were so emotionally exhausted and focused on fleeing that you failed to look at incoming traffic. You were barely anywhere near close to reaching the car when the loud screeching of tires and pungent smell of burnt rubber stopped you.

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heyitssmiller · 3 years

Text

Clandestine: Chapter Nine

Another cliffhanger? Me? Nah.

All characters belong to @lumosinlove

@donttouchmycarrots is the best and I love her so much. She also inspired a lot of this chapter’s angst, so it’s not all my fault this time! <3

CW: violence, blood/injuries, guns/gun violence

Clandestine Masterlist

Sirius woke up alone. This in and of itself wasn’t unusual, until he remembered the events of the night before. Wandering hands, soft, needy sighs, and warm lips that kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. He rolled onto his stomach and smothered himself with his pillow to hide the smile that took over his entire face, heart beating giddily in his chest. That happened.

Holy shit.

But that begged the question: where was he?

Sirius stayed in bed for a few moments, thinking that maybe Remus was coming back, but then he got too impatient and crawled out of bed to go searching. If he was camped out in front of that laptop again this early… but no. He was standing in front of the stove, prodding at the contents of a frying pan. The smell of coffee reached Sirius and he smiled again as he entered the kitchen, making sure his footsteps were loud enough for Remus to hear - that way it wasn’t a surprise when he came to stand behind Remus and wrapped his arms around his waist, hooking his chin on his shoulder to watch what was happening on the stove.

A general rule of dating a spy - don’t sneak up on them. It tends to end badly.

“Morning.” Sirius mumbled, turning his head to press a lingering kiss to a tendon in Remus’ neck and smiling against warm skin. Remus hummed, leaning back into Sirius’ chest and angling his neck to give him better access. That simple, innocuous motion stole Sirius’ breath. Remus didn’t trust easily - Sirius could understand why, given everything he’d been through. But there he was, relaxed against Sirius, eyes closed, completely trusting. Sirius wasn’t exactly sure what to do with something so precious, but damn he really didn’t want to screw this up. So he continued to place kiss after kiss to Remus’s skin, finding a ticklish spot right below his ear that made him laugh and squirm in Sirius’ arms before he shoved him away, a wide, happy smile on his face.

Had Sirius ever been this happy before? He doubted it.

“So what’s for breakfast, chef?” He asked, peering at the frying pan. Remus turned the stove off and grabbed plates from the cabinet by the fridge while Sirius grabbed silverware and napkins. It was incredibly domestic. Sirius couldn’t get enough of it.

“Scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. Nothing gourmet, but it’s the best I can do.” He answered as he scooped eggs out of the frying pan and grabbed toast from the toaster, then handed the plate to Sirius. They took their plates to the tiny kitchen table, along with the coffee and creamer and jams before sitting down to eat.

It was… nice. Their relationship had changed a lot the night before, but it was easy - a seamless transition from friends to more. He’d always assumed there would be some awkwardness with a big change like that, but it felt normal. Remus still teased him for how he took his coffee, Sirius still kicked him for it. They went over their plans for the day and what they wanted to get done. The ease of it all made Sirius wonder just how long they’d been teetering over that precipice.

It also made him feel guilty, how happy he was when his brother was still trapped with the Snakes and Finn still missing. Remus seemed to recognize his shift in emotion and smiled sadly, reaching across the table to tangle their hands together.

“We’re going to figure something out.” He said quietly before taking a sip of coffee, not once letting go of Sirius’ hand but playing with his fingers absentmindedly. It made it a bit tricky to eat, but Sirius couldn’t say he minded one bit.

He hoped Remus was right.

***

“Update?” Talker asked as soon as Remus and Sirius entered the office, looking tired. He kept pace with them as they walked, eager for a response. He and Finn were pretty close, constantly cracking jokes and trading jabs and playing pranks. But then again, Finn was a very outgoing guy - he was pretty close with a lot of people.

Sure enough, as they rounded the corner they found a gathering of people outside Remus’ office, all friends. All worried.

And a stranger standing next to Kasey, watching them as they approached. Red hair, brown eyes, faint freckles.

Remus didn’t have to ask who he was.

He stuck his hand out for the agent to shake. “O’Hara.”

Alex shook his hand briefly, soulful eyes a myriad of warring emotions. “Please tell me what the hell is going on.”

Remus looked at him, then the rest of the people around his office. They all needed to know what was going on, but he felt like Alex deserved the chance to hear this on his own, without the prying eyes of a bunch of strangers.

Sirius seemed to know exactly what he needed. It was like a sixth sense. “Lions, to the conference room! I’ll tell you what we know.” He gave Remus a warm smile, one that he was helpless to return. Last night was… blinding, as strange as it sounded. Sirius was all he could see now - the bright, expressive eyes, full, addictive lips, and wow he needed to get off this train of thought quickly. He had important things to do today.

Sirius seemed to know exactly what was on his mind. His smile turned secretive and sly before he shot Remus a wink and led the way to the conference room, leaving only Alex. Remus looked at him, then jerked his head towards his office. Alex followed after him and instantly sat down in one of the extra chairs, eyes never leaving Remus. He looked tired, worried, desperate for answers.

Remus sighed, an ache in his chest. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him, dealing with his younger brother being kidnapped. If it was Jules, Remus would lose his mind. “Let’s just start at the beginning, ok?” And so he did. He went over the general premise of the mission, what they’d done so far, and what went wrong. Alex listened quietly, taking it in.

When they were finally caught up Alex leaned back in his chair, raking a hand through his hair - a motion that was so Finn that Remus had to hold his breath for a second before releasing it. “So do we have any leads? What’s the plan?”

“We’ve got three possible locations. We’re going to try to narrow it down and then send in the two operatives we’ve already got in Slytherin.”

“Finn’s partners.”

There was something about the way Alex said that. The wrinkle in his brow, eyes hard and unflinching. Unforgiving. Remus gave him a look, keeping his voice neutral. “It was a freak accident, O’Hara. Not their fault.”

He wasn’t brave enough to tell the agent how much of that fault rested on his own shoulders. He was basically in charge of this mission. He’d been the one in charge of planning, giving them the go-ahead, looking out for signs of danger. There were signs of the op going bad - he could see that now, in hindsight. But hindsight was always 20/20, wasn’t it?

And now he was sitting here, explaining to the brother of the agent he let get kidnapped that they didn’t really have a solid plan. They were still scattered and struggling to recollect themselves after that disaster of a mission. What exactly was he supposed to say?

Alex ignored his earlier attempt at placation. “You’re telling me that your plan is to send one agent and a rookie safe-cracker into Snakes headquarters and break my brother out? That’s all you’ve got?”

“The rest of us are already on their radar. If we sent in other agents-”

“Bullshit.” Alex growled, leaning forward dangerously. And really, Remus couldn’t fault him for any of this. Their bond ran deep, apparently. “You’re taking down the Snakes anyways, what’s wrong with pushing up the timeline a little? We don’t need to be covert anymore, we need to be dominant and aggressive.”

“That makes your brother collateral damage,” Remus reasoned. “We go in guns-blazing, the first thing they’ll do is make it a hostage situation.”

Alex sighed, his shoulders slumping and all the fight leaving him in a split-second, frustration rolling off him in waves. “Fuck.”

“We’ve got an ex-Snake on the team and a guy on the inside. Potentially,” he felt like he had to add, because he still wasn’t sure what to think of the younger Black brother. Sirius trusted him, sure, but was that enough?

One wrong move and they could lose three agents. This required precision and cunning, not hot-headed recklessness.

“We’re going to do our best to get him out of there.” Remus finally finished, trying to instill confidence with just the words. Alex just smiled sadly.

“Good media answer, right there.”

Remus’ phone buzzed twice in his pocket, signaling an incoming message. He fumbled with it for a second, then looked down at the screen. “Well, I might have a better answer in a few minutes. One of his partners says they’ve got news.”

Remus just hoped it was finally some good news.

***

Logan was still pacing - back and forth, back and forth. It wasn’t a stressed pace this time, exactly. His stride was longer, full of pent-up energy and restlessness. Leo was switching between watching him and reading the messages Regulus sent the night before to Loops and Sirius, who were both listening intently.

“So let me get this straight.” Remus said through the computer speakers. “Regulus said he’d turn off one of the cameras that overlooks a side door, sneak you two in, and then help you get both him and Finn out?” He and Sirius were sitting close together at the conference table, sneaking glances at each other when they thought no one was looking.

Leo smiled knowingly. Good for them.

“Yeah.” Logan said as he continued to pace. “Get in, get them, get out. Simple.”

“Well,” Leo said, stretching out the word and watching Logan’s eyes snap to him. Yeah, he wasn’t going to like this. “According to Reg, one of Riddle’s flash drives is there too - in a safe in his office. Logan can get Finn, and I can-”

“No.”

“Logan,” Leo sighed, giving him a look. “After we get Finn out, they’ll put that place on lockdown. We won’t get another shot at getting this drive and you know it. Plus Riddle’s not even there right now. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

“When did he even tell you that?” Logan asked, staring at him incredulously. “I don’t remember this at all.”

“That would be because I’ve been texting him this morning because I knew you’d react like this.” Leo rushed to finish his sentence and be heard over Logan’s loud dissent.

“React how? Logically?”

“Over-protectively.” Leo corrected, watching the aggravation return to his pacing again as he grumbled something under his breath. “If we get this drive, that only leaves the ones Lestrange and Riddle have on them. Reg said he could probably grab the one Bellatrix has - he can replace it with the fake I slipped into his pocket at the gala-”

“Nut, you can’t be serious.”

Leo glared at him. “It’s a perfectly solid plan.”

“And it’s dangerous!”

“Are you forgetting what our jobs are?” Leo asked with an incredulous laugh. “Everything we do is dangerous.”

“Leo.”

The blond looked to the laptop, where Sirius and Loops were looking back at him. “Back me up here.”

Remus glanced over at Sirius, then back to Leo. “It’s risky, but if you feel like you can do it-”

“I can.” Leo said, no room for argument. The kid who was nervously drumming his fingers against his thigh and staring off into space before his first mission was long gone, replaced by a calm, confident agent - who still drummed his fingers on a regular basis, but who was self-assured and comfortable with his role. Logan wasn’t exactly sure when that had happened, but he was proud nonetheless - even if he was still terrified.

“When’s Reg going for Lestrange’s drive?” Sirius asked, in a similar state as Logan. Worried, but knowing he was fighting a losing battle. This was happening whether they liked it or not.

“She puts it in the same spot every night before she goes to bed, so he’ll grab it right before we get there when she’s already asleep. If we go really early in the morning - like really early - everyone should be asleep, save for a few.”

“They’re cocky like that,” Sirius added, “No one’s ever been dumb enough to try to break in, so they won’t be as prepared for it.”

Leo frowned, not sure whether to take offense or not. “Thanks?”

“So how long do you think getting into the safe will take?” Remus asked, keeping all of them on track, as usual. The steadiness and predictability calmed Logan down, just a little.

Leo shrugged. “Don’t know, depends on what kind of safe it is. Reg doesn’t know.”

“So you’re going in blind.” Logan finished, anxiety churning in his gut. That calmness had lasted all of three seconds. He didn’t like this. There was so much that could go wrong; it was risky enough sneaking in to get Finn out of there, but adding this on top of it? What if one of them got caught? What if all of them got caught? What if Regulus wasn’t as trustworthy as Sirius claimed? What if they were just walking into another trap?

What if, what if, what if. There were too many variables to this, too much at risk.

He’d never really hated his job before. In the past he’d loved the suspense, the intrigue, the unpredictability. He’d grown up wanting a career that had action and adventure, just like the movies he and his sisters used to watch. Now all the things he used to love were the things that were stressing him out the most. But then, he’d never had partners before - definitely not partners he was halfway in love with.

He was starting to hate this job now.

Leo’s voice brought him back to the conversation. “Not really. It’s either going to be a digital safe or manual. I’d crack a digital safe the same way I cracked the ones at the banks, and manual safes are kind of like giant locks. I just feel for the sticking points and do the math.”

“There’s math?” Sirius asked, looking disgusted. Logan thought back to Finn saying the exact same words, all three of them squished together on the bed with a nature documentary playing in the background, warm and content and relaxed. No stress, no sense of impending disaster, no one missing.

He wanted that again, more than anything.

He felt like this wasn’t the way to do it, though. Which was ironic, seeing that he was the one who usually wanted to be reckless. That was his M.O. - the rough, hotheaded agent who wasn’t afraid to take some risks. He completely changed his tune when those risks endangered his partners.

He couldn’t lose them - either of them. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if...

But arguing against this rescue mission was like leading a horse to water - pointless. The only thing left to do was to prepare. So Logan tuned the conversation out and started planning for every possible outcome he could think of. He wasn’t going to be left just reacting, not this time. He was going into this with every last detail mapped out, every potential misstep accounted for, every contingency plan organized in his head.

He wasn’t going to let anything go wrong. He couldn’t.

***

The alarm Leo and Logan had set was essentially useless, seeing that it found the two of them already awake, going over the plan in their heads. Logan stretched his arm out to shut it off, then rolled over to look at Leo. Blue eyes were already staring back, alight with optimism- a stark contrast to how Logan was feeling. He just hoped tonight wasn’t the night he would be disappointed.

“We’re going to get him back.” The blond said, no sleepiness to his voice as he softly leaned in to kiss Logan sweetly, then more enthusiastically. Logan let himself get lost in it for a while, a heart-wrenching distraction, accepting kiss after excited kiss with a sigh against soft lips. He took the lead a second later, pushing Leo back into the mattress and pressing their chests together, getting as close as he could manage and relaxing into the warmth.

“And then we’ll all be together again.” He added after a while, trying to reassure both Leo and himself as he kissed a dimple and earned a smile, bright in the early-morning darkness. “And we can finally have that talk.”

Leo hummed happily and pulled him down for one last lingering kiss before shimmying his way out from under Logan and getting to his feet, hair an absolute mess from a night of tossing and turning and Logan’s hands. Logan felt strangely proud of himself for that.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” Leo chanted, dashing to his suitcase to grab clothes. His enthusiasm visibly shown in every action - brushing his teeth, pulling on his shoes, grabbing his tools. Logan soon found himself dressed and ready to go, turning his earpiece on and testing his mic. His gun was loaded and ready, a comforting weight at his hip. Leo’s voice echoed in his ear as he tested his mic, loud and clear. His tools were all packed up and smuggled away in his pockets, determination written across his face.

They were going to get him back.

Logan pulled up the directions to the address Regulus had sent them and they hurried to their car, blasting the heat as high as it would go to try and defrost the windows. The clock read 4:13 am as they pulled out of the hotel parking lot and headed down the street.

The drive was tense with anticipation and nerves and adrenaline. Leo’s leg never stopped bouncing from the passenger’s seat as he stared out the window, clearly lost in thought because it was still pitch black outside - he definitely wasn’t looking at anything. Logan kept his eyes on the road ahead and his thoughts on their mission, going over the details one last time as the navigation app instructed him to turn right.

The building they were infiltrating was on the very outskirts of Slytherin, somewhat secluded and run-of-the-mill. If Logan wasn’t sure this was the right place, he would never have guessed this to be a Snakes’ building. Which was probably exactly what they were going for.

Logan drove straight past the building, continuing down the road for a while until he figured they wouldn’t raise suspicion. He put the car in park, switched the headlights off, then turned to face his partner.

“You ready?”

The resulting grin was luminous. “You know it.”

Logan nodded, nerves gnawing away at his stomach, and got out of the car. He and Leo snuck around to the southeast side of the building where they found a door, the light above it flickering occasionally. Leo sent Logan a look, then rapped on the door with his knuckles twice.

A few seconds passed by, then the door opened silently. Regulus Black stared back at them, face as impassive as always. The two agents stepped inside without another word, watching as Regulus closed the door behind them and locked it before turning to face them again.

“I’ve got Bellatrix’s drive,” he said, so quietly that Leo and Logan had to lean in a little to hear him. “Snagged it about twenty minutes ago and replaced it with the fake. She’ll never know the difference.”

“Perfect.” Leo grabbed Logan’s forearm, eyes bright and intense. “You go get Finn, I’ll grab the drive. Meet you back at the rendezvous.”

Logan still didn’t like the idea. He didn’t like the thought of being separated. “Leo-”

“No one’s out this early, it’ll be the easiest grab of my life. I’ll be careful - I’ll be so careful, Tremz. You gotta trust me.” He pressed their foreheads together briefly and Logan allowed himself that one moment to close his eyes and press back, inhaling deeply. He still smelled like the hotel’s shampoo, clean and citrusy. After all this, Logan didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget the smell - or the memories that came with it. He couldn’t quite figure out if that was a bad thing or not. Because on the one hand, there was stress and kidnappings and hurt. But on the other hand, there was exciting, brand new kisses and falling asleep in his arms and the comfort of just being with him.

“Make it quick, ok?” he said finally, reluctantly leaning away and meeting blue eyes. Leo nodded, giving his hand a squeeze, and turned to set off down the hallway. Logan only allowed himself half a second to look after him - if he watched any longer, he just knew he’d start chasing after him, blindly following an angel and not caring where he was going. He’d probably follow him anywhere, if he could. He faced Regulus again instead, who was looking decidedly awkward. Logan just raised an eyebrow at him and motioned for him to lead the way.

His heart hammered louder and louder the more they walked, excitement and worry and adrenaline snowballing together and making his head spin. He could hear Leo’s quiet breathing through the coms, measured and steady and constant like the tide pushing and pulling against the shore. That, more than anything he tried to tell himself, calmed him down.

They reached a nondescript door and stopped in front of it. Logan glanced at Regulus, then back at the door. This was it. Finn was on the other side of that door. He was a paradoxical combination of excited and terrified of what he’d find on the other side of that door.

“I’m just going to wait out here,” Regulus said, moving so that his back was against the wall. “I’ve already witnessed you all soft and mushy tonight - I don’t think I can handle seeing it again. I’ll keep an eye out from here.”

Logan sent him a grin, incredibly pleased with himself and completely unashamed.

He took one last, deep breath and opened the door.

The sound of the door must have woken Finn, because the first thing Logan saw was the shifting of shoulder and back muscles as the redhead sat up with an annoyed grumble. “What the fuck is so important that you feel the need to wake me up this early?” He demanded, reaching up to further tousle his hair as he swiveled around to face the door. Their eyes locked and Finn froze, staring at him with his mouth agape and wide, wide brown eyes, one of which was blackened and swollen. There was blood at the corner of his mouth, dark and distracting. Logan’s breath left him in a rush, like he’d been the one punched in the face.

“Lo,” Finn whispered, that one syllable barely loud enough to reach Logan’s ears. He sat up straighter in an instant and continued to stare, as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Logan?”

That was all it took to spur Logan into action. He crossed the room in five quick paces and then he was on his knees in front of Finn, reaching for him hesitantly. Finn practically launched himself at him, arms around his neck and holding tight - almost bruisingly. Logan didn’t care. He’d gladly take the bruises if it meant having his partner in his arms again. It hadn’t even been that long since Logan had seen him, but it felt like an entire lifetime. He hugged Finn closer, probably holding him too tight, before leaning back and looking him over. Frantic hands passed over skin and clothing, feeling for injuries.

“You ok?” He asked, reaching up to tilt Finn’s face so that he could examine the black eye and split lip. Calloused fingers traced gingerly over constellations of freckles, marred by purples and greens and yellows. “God, Finn-”

Finn laughed a little, reaching up to still Logan’s hand and pressing it to his stubbled cheek instead. Logan could feel his smile against his palm and melted. “I’m ok. It looks worse than it actually is, I’m sure.”

You’re still gorgeous, Logan thought as he swiped a thumb across his cheek. He wanted to drown in the sight in front of him. Finn wasn’t great but he was ok and considering the circumstances, that was all Logan could really ask for. He was still livid, of course. And the ones who’d hurt Finn would get what was coming for them. That much he could guarantee.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Finn murmured, still leaning into Logan’s touch. Logan just shook his head firmly, eyes serious. How did Finn expect him to leave him behind? He clearly had no idea just how little they could function without him, the gaping hole he’d left in his absence.

Finn looked over Logan’s shoulder, then back to Logan with worried eyes. “Leo?” He asked and let Logan help him to his feet, favoring his left leg. Logan tightened his grip on his biceps and steadied him before answering.

“Currently? In Riddle’s office cracking a safe.”

Leo’s voice, calm and even, came through the coms. “Tell Finn I said hey.” Logan grinned.

“He says hey.”

Finn looked offended. He leaned closer to the mic Logan was wearing at the collar of his shirt, making the brunet still. The expression on his face - a comical combination of panic and turned-on - made Finn smile as he spoke. “You’re breaking me out of here after I was kidnapped and the only thing you can think of to say is hey?”

“Well, I was planning on saving the sentimental shit for when I actually see you.” Leo said distractedly from his spot on the floor in front of a truly ancient safe, rotating the dial slowly and feeling for the last remaining sticking point. “It’s good to hear your voice, though.”

He heard Logan relay the message to Finn, and then Finn’s resulting coo. Leo laughed under his breath at the sound right as the safe opened with a loud click, opening to reveal nothing inside but a blue and gray flash drive.

“I can’t believe this is the only thing he keeps in a safe like this.” Leo grumbled, reaching forward to make the switch-

Right as the office door opened.

Leo whirled around, slipping the real flash drive into his pocket as he faced whoever had walked in on him.

Unnatural yellow eyes stared back.

And a gun was pointed at his chest.

He could tell Riddle recognized him from the party by the curl of his lips that formed the beginnings of a smile. Cold dread washed over Leo at the bizarre sight. He wasn’t sure anyone had seen the leader of the Snakes smile before. If they did, they hadn’t lived to tell the tale. Leo’s heart raced as all he could do was stand there and stare. His gun sat heavily at his hip, but he knew reaching for it would only speed up the inevitable. He stayed still.

Leo’s partners were still talking over the coms, happy and ignorant of the situation going on right down the hall from them. As Leo stared down the barrel of a gun, he thought maybe it was for the best. Riddle wouldn’t react well to breaking Finn out of here, he knew that much. At least this would be a good distraction - if Riddle was focused on him, he wouldn’t be focused on his partners. Maybe they’d be able to get out of here before Riddle even realized the real reason Leo was in the building.

He’d rather die than give either of them up. He was a little scared at the honesty behind that statement… and the likelihood of it happening much sooner than he’d hoped.

Riddle adjusted his sights without saying a single word, finger against the trigger. Leo sucked in a harsh breath and braced himself.

Bang.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o’knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine #cw: injuries #cw: blood #cw: gun violence

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