#where his real dreams deep down are just people thinking highly of him and being able to indulge in his interest? and friends?
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saw this in the previews and thought "his hubris is immense" which is hilarious to me
#keroro#u dont understand this really is the duality of a doormat. oh my god hes perfect#his dreams of domination are big but theyre all rooted in the people who treat him worst Liking Him and being able to control that#whats that? hes a big baby whowants to take over planets for a sense ofcontrol? and he doesntActually want it which is why hes not doing it?#where his real dreams deep down are just people thinking highly of him and being able to indulge in his interest? and friends?#but also hes completely out of his depth AND his hubris is immense so it comes out like this?#attempting to rule over others to be his friends because he's still struggling to right his wrongs#natsumis constantly hitting him and berating him (called him useless 2 eps ago) so Of Course he's like this with her specifically.#with keroro it's really come for the comedy stay for the character exploration huh#ANYWAY I LOVE THE DARKER SIDE OF KERORO I DONT WANNA JUST SEE HIM CUTE OR CRYING OR HURTING I ALSO WNNA SEE THIS!#you gotta be a Little fucked up to want to be in charge n subject urself to that. hes smug. hes selfish. and i love him for it. its a farce#analysis
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I wrote another StarShock fic! This fanfiction came to me in a dream, in which it was the final story in an official compilation of stories about Starscream. When I woke up, I realized I had to write it.
Summary: In the aftermath of an apocalypse, Starscream still struggles to accept that the sanctuary he secured for himself, Shockwave, and Ravage is real. Then, Shockwave comes to him with an important question. Post-canon, G1, Marvel comics 'verse. AO3 link for tags.
Melt Our Defenses, Bring Us Back to Our Senses
The claws of hulking, biomechanical beasts dug into the seams of his frame, tearing him to pieces as he helplessly backed into a throne, on a mountain ringed by black spires that stretched into the dull grey sky. But despite the devastation to his frame, he remained whole, whole enough to be hovering before the Planet-Eater, face-to-face. He had not fled the fight this time. But did it matter, when he was reduced to ashes by a single blast from Galvatron’s cannon, Starscream’s bodiless spark left to plummet through space and time, the corona of his very essence blazingly bright and sparkling with energy? Starscream, despite being nothing more than a ghost, looked down at a puddle of energon that pooled beneath him on the ground. The glow was fading from the puddle, and he could see his own reflection—but something was wrong. His weary optics were deep red, when they should have been gold. That could not be right!
His spectral shape had been upright, but he could feel the cold weight of a floor pressed to his back. His optics flared to life and there was Shockwave, staring down at him. Starscream’s vision blurred, the yellow circle of light above him swimming like heat haze.
“Interrogative: are you functional?” Shockwave asked.
Starscream was paralyzed as the ghost of himself fell back into his body, reality rippling before it finally settled. He tried to speak but could not form the words—instead, he wrenched his head to the side and realized he was lying in the hall, beneath one of the Ark’s portholes. He was surprised they had not cracked. Now, he remembered. He was safe, in the heavily-damaged yet functional ship he had spent so long repairing, with the only other people around being his allies. Despite everything, he had survived. “Er, of course I’m functional,” he said. He drew his legs back and pushed himself up off the floor, glancing back and ignoring the surprised welling up within him at the fact that no energon was pooling in the hall. Peering through the porthole, he saw nothing but stars upon stars. It was vast and peaceful enough to make Cybertronians’ status as an endangered species seem like it was not such a big deal.
Shockwave was standing stiffly, with his one hand on his hip, as if he wanted to pump himself up. It must have been out of habit, because surely he was too “logical” to think his present company was ever going to be awed by him. “Recharging in the middle of the hallway is highly illogical.” Case in point.
“As the captain of this ship, I get to recharge wherever I please! And since I used to be your pilot, it follows that I am your leader as well. You should take your cues from me!” Starscream exclaimed automatically. But he felt a cold dread seeping through his circuitry as it occurred to him that he could not even think back to the shutdown process that had led him there. All he could remember from before he began recharging was walking down the hallway, delivering himself right into the nightmare. Or maybe “hallucination” was a more accurate term. Just being online these cycles felt like being stuck between a paradise where he had achieved everything—almost everything—he ever wanted, and a universe of endless suffering. Which one was real, he could not say.
Shockwave was still staring at him expectantly, so Starscream threw caution to the solar winds and said, “You know, it’s always like one of my optics is seeing some timeline where… I never broke free, but my other optic’s seeing the timeline you’re here standing in right now.” In some life so long ago Starscream could barely recall living it, he would have been embarrassed to admit such a struggle. But after he and Shockwave had seen each other broken open and lobotomized, and then completely remade, it did not seem so significant.
“Perhaps you would prefer having a single optic, like myself,” Shockwave said.
Starscream snorted. “Thanks for that,” he said, his words laced with less sarcasm than he had intended. “There’s a solution only your massive intellect could come up with.”
He saw a shadow dart across his peripheral vision, one Starscream had grown accustomed to seeing lurking around everywhere. This shadow was Ravage, who slowed next to Shockwave, then stalked a deliberate circle around him and Starscream, as if trying to push them closer together. Ravage never spoke anymore, so it was hard to know what was meant by the action, but Starscream could understand how words might seem useless to the cassette after enduring the end of the world. What could anyone say after living through that?
Ravage paused to look intently at Shockwave, who returned the stare. They seemed to be locked in a silent exchange.
“Oh, sure, leave me out of the conversation.” Starscream crossed his arms over his cockpit.
Shockwave’s antennae adjusted positions several times as he turned back to Starscream. “Ravage reminded me that I must discuss something with you,” Shockwave said hesitantly. “By… keeping certain information from you, Starscream, I have found I have the sense that I am, in a way, lying to you by omission. Therefore, the only logical course of action would be to reveal said information.” Shockwave did not sound frightened, not like he had sounded back when he had taken in the sight of Unicron stellar cycles ago—it was something softer than fear that was making him act all tentative.
“We’re Decepticons. Shouldn’t you be proud to lie, by omission or otherwise?” Starscream asked.
“What does being a Decepticon stand for anymore?”
“Fair point. But why do you care about lying to me?” Whatever the information was, Starscream found he was not worried. If there was anything he could depend on, it was that Shockwave knew their alliance was mutually-beneficial and that he should not turn his back on it. In distant memories of being on Earth, Starscream had told himself it was an alliance of convenience, nothing more, but now…
Shockwave looked down at his hand, which he held in front of his chassis. His hand was closed and he ran his thumb across his fingers, as if to stroke some precious thing he was hiding inside his fist. “I… am unsure, which is why I wanted to discuss this with you.”
Ravage looked smug, and walked away, giving Shockwave some space.
“Well? Go on, shoot!” Starscream said.
Shockwave took a furtive step forward and it was like Starscream was displaced in time, seeing Shockwave being buffeted by the waves of Earth’s ocean with seafoam sticking to his Decepticon purple frame, back when Shockwave proposed Starscream join him in bringing new life to the faction. “Query: do you know why I saved you from the collapsing Hub?” Shockwave asked.
“You always did like having somebody to blather at, as much as you’d deny it,” Starscream said. “Or maybe it was because it’s tough to run a ship this big all on your own?” Internally, Starscream was far less confident than his words implied. He had never questioned it, it had seemed only natural to him. Just like how he had ended up going back for Shockwave after trudging across that waste to reach the Ark. Where it had been so cold, it reminded Starscream of all those nights he spent staring up at Earth’s sky, before it had been choked with fallout, when he would gaze upward at the moon and wish he could return home. If only he could have known what would end up becoming of that home.
“Negative,” Shockwave declared. “In truth, I was strangely compelled to bring you to safety. As I’ve contemplated this phenomenon further, I’ve concluded… that I believe this was emotion.”
“Um. Okay?”
“I will now proceed to describe the emotion in detail so that you may identify it for me.” Shockwave continued, “Fact: this emotion causes me to be stricken with sensations of enjoyment and a nearly palpable need to ensure your continued safety and happiness. Fact: looking your way and even simply thinking about you are enough to evoke the selfsame emotion even now. Additionally, when I trace said emotion back through time, I cannot exclude the possibility that its origins lie in a time long ago, before Earth, when we worked together as scientists. You were often on my mind, and in fact it was an offhand comment of yours that inspired me to overthrow Megatron. I wonder if this emotion of mine is not a new development, but instead an emotion that, since its creation, has grown stronger and stronger until I could ignore it no longer—” He continued overexplaining, which he often did when passionate or stressed.
Just like when he had taken the Underbase into his body, that unholy marriage, Starscream felt tingling energy running throughout his frame. However, instead of power overwhelming enough to overload his circuitry in a massive explosion of light, this energy was a gentle warmth. A hazy memory came to mind—the feeling of Shockwave holding him as the last vestiges of the Underbase’s consciousness slipped away. Starscream felt utterly safe with Shockwave, and he hated that he did not hate it in the slightest. And being so safe, Starscream let the realization that Shockwave’s “emotion” was very much requited dawn on him.
“Interrogative: what is this emotion? You are well-versed in emotion, Starscream. You must be capable of identifying it,” Shockwave said, more firmly, bringing Starscream out of his reverie.
Starscream’s wings were hiked up high. “W-Well, that’s, uh, such a personal thing, Shockwave,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to come to any conclusions for you.”
“Illogical,” Shockwave declared. “You’ve never before hesitated to voice your opinion, especially when you believe I am incorrect or have overlooked an important detail. That is in large part the reason I believed we could rule together.” His voice sounded wistful at the end there.
Starscream found himself fiddling with his hands just like Shockwave had earlier—only for Ravage to run behind Starscream and nudge him forward. Starscream let out a high-pitched vocalization and then fixed Ravage with a glare. Stuck between a determined Ravage and a curious Shockwave—what a place to be! The worst part of it was that Starscream was not even afraid, not really. Shockwave’s “emotion” for him and the fact that he had cluelessly confessed to the sentiment first ensured that Starscream was right to feel safe with him. But it was ridiculous! Before the Decepticons were founded, they had been on opposite sides of a war, for crying out loud! Except, as another part of Starscream remembered, it had never been personal, and once they had met in-person, all that time spent working together as easily as gears that slotted together just so—
Shockwave came even closer. “Starscream—”
“Obviously it’s love, you fool!” Starscream blurted out. He looked away quickly, out the porthole and at space again. His face felt red-hot. He could not handle whatever Shockwave’s reaction was. It was overwhelming, then, to see that one of the nebulae outside was in Shockwave’s colors.
After a long silence, Starscream managed to look his way, and saw that Shockwave’s head was bowed, his optic dimmer than usual. His antennae were tilted back. Then, with the quiet sounds of old servos moving, Shockwave’s optic lit up like one of the stars outside, and his chest also glowed faintly—pink, like energon. “Ah,” he said, softly, “that is… logical.”
Starscream’s wings lowered and he smirked, relieved. Shockwave spun on his heel and said, “I appreciate your insight. Now, I recommend we return to the bridge and decide on a new course to plot—”
Ravage brushed past Starscream’s leg, walking in the opposite direction with a pointed scoff.
Starscream was left looking back-and-forth between the disappointed cassette and Shockwave’s retreating back, but then raced forward and caught Shockwave by the cable that connected his gun arm to his power pack. “Wait a nanoclick!” Starscream exclaimed.
Shockwave’s antennae stood straight up. “Why? What is it?”
“Because you were so curious about that ‘emotion,’ I ought to show you what people feeling that emotion like to do with it,” Starscream said. He let go of the cable, though not before gently running his hand along it. Then, he reached out and took Shockwave’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “You know, I’ve always loved this color. How it’s pretty and pale and transparent—”
“Do you mean ‘translucent?’” Shockwave asked, while squeezing Starscream’s hand more tightly.
“Oh, shut up,” Starscream said, without any bite to his voice. “Anyway, it’s also like spilled energon despite all that, and it glows when you use your cannon… it’s the perfect fit for a powerful mechanoid like you.”
Shockwave wordlessly stroked the back of Starscream’s hand, and their optics glowed amber like warm incandescent bulbs. As Starscream smiled and led Shockwave toward the bridge of the Ark, he was happy to find solace in sharing this beautiful dream.
#StarShock#ShockStar#Starscream#Shockwave#Ravage#transformers g1#transformers marvel#maccadam#my writing#Poor Ravage dealing with useless queers
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— steal a star from the city nights
characters: kunikuzushi, you
wc & genre: 3k – modern au
warnings/notes: consumptive of alcohol and cigarettes, implied (past) sexual intimacy in one paragraph, Scara in a COO type position as your status is somewhat high but still below his, gn!reader
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The cool night air bites into your skin at the first step you take outside.
The buzzing of indoors now behind a veil, underwater, the sounds of chatter, laughter, music and glasses clinked in cheers cast aside.
Holding your glass with one hand, you walk to the edge, slow, steady steps, taking in the lonely air that holds fortitude for lonely souls like yours for tonight and any other.
Steps coming to a halt by the edge, the nose of your touch brushing against solid material, you still for a second. Crouching down to place the glass to the side, a good half a meter away from your feet and get back up, taking in a deep breath.
Closing your eyes to let the breeze brush against your face, you wait, hold, and open your eyes as you let out the breath you’ve been holding for a while; all the worries, the pent up frustration, exhaustion, all the sadness and anger.
In the solitary space you’ve crafted for yourself, it feels like being reborn again. Getting out of water, out of the womb, and meeting the sudden cold of the world all over again.
All the while the city under your feet shines away.
Slow, bright blinks of the lights, imitating stars, ‘if we cannot reach, we might as well become them.’ the city says, the people act as well.
Stars hanging up above, stars dangling down and away, walking the same streets as you do, paving the way, brewing tea– or coffee, for those stuck at offices all day long.
Stars that eat like humans do, stars that sleep, too. Stars who dream of dreamers admiring them from afar, stars who wish to be captured in a painting for eternity, stars who relish knowing people cast a wish at their sights.
Stars so close and warm, stars so beautiful and untouchable, cold to the touch.
For a second, you allow yourself to wonder what kind of star you’d be, indulging the selfish impulses for a bit, let yourself think highly like one you’ve grown too close in proximity yet universes away in any other matter entirely.
The sky is dark, save for the few faint balls of gas you can spot, only if you squeeze your eyes and know where to seek them. The thin, fragile crescent hangs there more for looks than anything else. Allowing everyone else one last glance before it disappears for a day, for a night.
Well, that’s alright, you don’t need the moon for a source of light.
Not when the city seems to shine for you, arms resting on the rails, it almost digs into your flesh but the cold air helps numb the ache.
With a sigh, you let your head fall to the side.
It is moments such as this that you love the city.
Little moments of life to be enjoyed, to be cherished. The never ending rustling of the city is unforgiving, after all. Never waiting for anyone, rarely ever showing mercy, so make the best of it, the artificial stars created in absence of the real ones, the moon up there just for your eyes for the night.
The illusion of the dream lasts until another sigh is let out.
One that reaches your eyes when your mouth is shut, a voice you know too well, his voice carries over a faint smell of smoke and lavenders with it.
You resist the urge to turn to steal a glance, it is better this way.
Perhaps the beauty of the momentary escape had you surrounded so thick, you failed to hear the doors open and close from behind, or the steps or anything else, really.
And with only a few meters to separate the both of you, Kunikuzushi seems to follow a similar approach like your own.
Still, you cannot help but take a peak from the corner of your eyes, head still, looking onwards into nothing.
You wish you hadn’t really.
Not when he looks like this– blending so perfectly into the scene behind him, into the night, the stars of the city now serving as spotlights, he looks ethereal, like someone crafted by the hands of Michaelangelo and added into the scenery later.
It is unfair how beautiful he is, especially when his personality always seems to contradict this.
A glance shorter than a second is all you allow yourself and return back to your bubble, to keep floating in the air.
Why should you grant him your attention when he has only ever treated you to deserve your ignorance?
He seems to share a mutual agreement, from how he stands in his little spot, as if unaware of your presence, or uncaring.
The light coming from the cigarette flickers and a puff of smoke leaves his lips.
Maybe Nyx decided to be cruel for the night.
“Aren’t you going to drink that?” he speaks quietly, softly, his eyes never leaving the city.
Turning your head halfway to the side, you settle for an observation. You’re surprised he has noticed you, let alone the drink cast aside. Is it the dim lights playing a trick or has he shuffled closer to you somehow?
Perhaps, it is his voice that is the most surprising out of everything else you’ve taken notice of in the last few minutes. You doubt you’ve ever heard his voice like this– open, faint and almost fragile, laced with no poison, no malice, no undertones of taking his frustration out of someone else.
Silence spreads back in the balcony.
With one last drag, he puts out the cigarette– another man made star fading away, one less light for the silky night.
You find it unusual he even showed up to this event at all, in all honesty.
With the track record he keeps, of barely interacting with anyone else, always has something else to get displeased about, no regard for anyone else’s feelings around him, as if feelings are such a foreign concept to him.
You recall however, trying wishing him a ‘good morning’ one early hour and being met with piercing eyes staring into your soul. The only lesson you needed perhaps, if he acts as a robot with quite the temper, he might as well get treated as such.
–“Want one?”
draws you out of your head. The distance hasn't shortened but he meets your eyes now. Hair now a tad longer than your first time meeting, lazily brushing against and falling over his shoulders.
He looks… different.
Apart from the hair, the choice of clothes and the scenery. He looks serene, calm, face somewhat empty yet there lies a sliver of emotion you cannot name.
The pack of cigarettes in one hand, tipped open, slightly held out to your direction.
You contemplate for a moment, why not indulge yourself for the second time tonight?
Your hand stops before it can even reach over.
“Might as well help you unwind and get that stick out for once.” he says, of course, because with Kunikuzushi around, you can never go an hour without hearing a snarky comment here, an insult there, a jab over your head, a remark aimed somewhere else.
Yet his tone doesn’t sting as bad, is it the nicotine, the alcohol or something else? The very idea of him holding back, or going a little too overboard during the day time both seem to be impossible in your eyes.
Snatching one away from the pack with a quick slash of your arm, you scowl at him.
Cigarette placed between index and middle finger, waiting, if he is offering, he can be chivalrous enough to provide the fire for it.
Pulling one and tucking the pack away, he places it between his lips and takes out a small rectangle lighter with exquisite design at the sides, pushing off the cap with his thumb, its clank is the only sound surrounding you.
So you wait, in the cool empty night, no movement on your side.
Kunikuzushi takes the first step, a second one, slowly closing the gap, the fire between you both, the flickering lights dance elegantly across his face.
Bringing the bud to your lips, you lean in towards the fire, ignoring how closely you can hear him breath, feel him breath, almost nose to nose, this is the closest you’ve ever been– inhale and let out the first puff of smoke, watching it swirl around his features.
It brings a new type of light to him, the smoke dancing, surrounding him, a mysterious air to him, all the more pulling.
Like the woods up ahead, untouched, undiscovered, feared, out of reach for centuries and longer.
Almost mirroring you, he brings the lighter closer to himself next, yet leaning just a tad toward it. Leaning against the rails, your vacant arm spread on top, you hold the cigarette between your fingers lightly.
Eyes never leaving yours, he waits for the flame to jump over, inhale to let the flame stay and let out a smaller puff of smoke, shoulders dropping with the action, his grip on the lighter loosening slightly.
Delicate, slender fingers, not a single mark or cut visible. No calluses or any wounds, not in the poor light of the fire, nor under the bright artificial whites. Hands warmer than the man they belong to, careful, light, examining, observing.
Pocketing the lighter and shifting his weight to one feet, he tilts his head to the side.
A small smile gracing his features, he takes a drag and puffs it out, down toward the city.
“See? It’s not so bad to just relax for once now, is it?”
With a dry chuckle, you place your elbow on the rails, facing the doors.
“Please.” you say and twirl the hand holding the cigarette. “As if you know a single shit about me.”
Taking a drag, you let your eyes close, turning blind to the blurred lights of the inside. Just another pesky party, of people pretending, some stupid big deal celebrated. One night everyone’s allowed to drink and get loose– if they’ve gone drunk, no fake pleasantries or smiles, no sucking up or flattery.
A night for everyone to live and forget come morning. A night to pretend none of that was real, that it was all a dream.
Heaven knows the previous ones felt as such.
How can they not, when the feared and despised Scaramouche sounded like a completely different person? So much so a dream so unreal you heard his name leave his lips, no longer just a bunch of letters you’ve seen on papers, given to you personally.
Surely a dream, and nothing else.
“Oh really?” He says, he sounds amused, as odd as it is. “And what is it I need to know exactly to prove that you’re just some stuck-up, running from one floor to another all day long in the office?” he speaks word by word, careful, slow, eyes locked on you, waiting for the slightest reaction, response.
Not that he will be getting any, not as long as you’re breathing.
A cloud of smoke leaves your lips, head swaying to one side and the other, to a song that is not playing anywhere near.
“And this,” you say with a smile, tapping your left index on an invisible table, “my darling, is exactly how you are proving my point.”
The term of endearment flies over, or perhaps he catches and tucks it away inside his breast pocket– you don’t know, cannot tell with your eyes closed.
He goes silent after that, muttering a “whatever”.
A faint laughter bubbling up from your chest at his reaction, you take another drag, letting your arms free, feeling them twirl and turn however they want, head dropping to the back, the city is a different type of beautiful from upside down.
Moments pass like this, still tucked away in your bubble despite his presence. The blurred sounds of the party creating a new song altogether.
Be it Inazuma or Snezhnaya, Mondstadt or Liyue– the breeze always carries over a piece of the ocean, all the way over.
The scent of lavender coming from the cigarette, and a hint of mint and whiskey add a satisfying layer to the air.
Pushing yourself off the rails, your eyes find his hunched up form over the city. “If you desire an explanation so badly though,” you begin, taking a step forward and another, only to turn 180 degrees, “I’m just doing my job. Didn’t realize that count as being a stuck-up, or a worker bee, as told by your latter statement, actually.”
Not caring for his reaction, or waiting for a response, you turn away, taking steps here and there, letting your body take the lead, the most conscious movement on your part is the cigarette touching your lips, the rest is half a dance, half a blending into the night.
And barely a distance away from you, Kunikuzushi watches. One arm resting on the railing, the other propped up by the elbow, chin rested against his palm, with an expression you don’t see– and one you’d find foreign on him.
For all the moving around you do with closed eyes, it’s a miracle you haven’t hit the glass on the floor yet.
“Just– what are you doing?” he says after a moment. Cigarette already put out in the whisky glass he came here with.
Despite the words he sounds amused, perhaps the strangeness of Kunikuzushi for tonight’s dream has only begun.
“Floating.”
You say the word so carelessly, so recklessly, aren’t you aware one step too far and you could hit your ribs against the balcony rails? Or worse yet, topple over them, endanger yourself.
The single word you utter however, comes out like a bubble in the air, shaking in the cool night air, floating up, up, letting the wind carry it far away.
“What? This not good enough for your sense of unwinding?” you joke suddenly, body facing his, a smile decorating your face.
It seems familiar but he cannot recall why.
It’s certainly not one of those smiles he dislikes seeing thrown around in the office. All pleasantries, smiles and kind wishes, ‘morning, how are you’s and ‘take care of yourself’s.
It irks him how much the people around the office, at least those you are bothered enough to converse with, seem to like you.
He wishes you never stepped in through the doors that day.
He cannot imagine his days without you in them.
A sudden brush of something warm pulls him out of his thoughts. Your finger centimeters away from his face, you only offer him a smile with lidded eyes.
“Come on now, what’s with this face? It seems it could benefit from a smile.”
Taking one last drag from the cigarette, you keep walking, away from him, then turn again with a face he can only call sheepish and much more apologetic this time. “Or anything that’s not a scowl, really…”
Your voice trailing off, you walk back to where he is, putting out the cigarette next to his and returning to your initial position, back arched back, arms leaning against the railing again.
It is ridiculous, when he thinks about it.
How you’re acting right now, how not a single soul would dare do any of this, or even breathe one meter away from him.
And there it is again, that familiar smile on your face.
From the last dream, a deal that was his victory.
The gentle, fragile hand that has never done a labor in its wake pulling you away with him, he must’ve been tipsy, the pink tint of his cheeks said as much.
‘This is my celebration as much as yours.’ you remember someone whispering, brushing it off as a part of your very active imagination come morning. ‘It’s only fair that my best board member gets something in return.’
The breeze carrying the ocean and rest of the world comes again, filling up the space, stroking your faces.
Kunikuzushi has always been a beautiful man, yet with a smile, a genuine one, he looks truly ethereal.
He is unaware of the expression taking over his face until you quote him from earlier. “See? Not so bad now, is it?”
Maybe Scaramouche would reply with a scowl and nothing else, but Kunikuzushi sees that cheeky smile adorning your face and shakes his head with a smile of his own, widening by the time.
Stars above and stars behind you twinkling away, you share the moment. Closing your eyes again, you settle for humming a song this time, most of the movement coming from your hands and fingers twirling and turning in place.
Another dream to enjoy tonight, to tuck it away and add to the collection before dawn.
Your eyes flutter open, but your humming doesn’t come to a stop. To your fingers, joins the slight tilting of your head once again, in accordance with the tune leaving your lips.
The blurred city life behind one another, the two of you stay, eyes on one another.
You, him and faraway man-made stars that blink in the distance.
Kunikuzushi finds himself startled, lungs forgetting how to breathe for a second when a hand reaches by his cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.
“Darling, you’re so pretty, it hurts.” you say with your smile growing apparent, in a way he can only describe as sing-song.
Your hand remains in place, will you stroke his hair, or brush your fingers against his cheek?
Instead, the hand returns back to your side and in a quick motion, you crouch to grab your half full glass.
Kunikuzushi watches your back as your swinging form walks away, as if that was nothing just now– or merely a delusion crafted by his mind. The noise from the indoors increases for a second then is drowned out again.
He lets out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding the whole time.
#genshin impact#kunikuzushi#scaramouche#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#kunikuzushi x reader#kunikuzushi x you#gender neutral reader#modern au#scara x reader#scara x you#scaramouche drabble#kunikuzushi drabble
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💗 and 💔 for Eneas
🌟 and 👑 for Adrial
Eneas:
💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?
It can be hard to spot the differences. Since Eneas’ usually acts with charm and courtesy and is very controlled underneath the surface, one would need to observe the smallest reactions. Does he show genuine surprise about a compliment instead of answering too smoothly? – Forget his own well-aimed words at a touch? Maybe he goes out of his way to spend time with this person? – Disappears with them at odd times? Had a most intimate present that gives away something personal about him? Does he appear untypically concerned about seeing the person in danger? Ah, it’s possible to notice if he has a crush, but not easy.
The moment Eneas realizes that he’s in love (or experiences any kind of strong affection actually), his instincts tell him to flee. In some rare cases, when it’s just too important that he stays, he may manage to fight this impulse down. Usually, though, it needs a bit of help from the person in question and a meaningful gesture from them for him to reconsider and carefully start to trust.
When Eneas is in love, everything changes. It’s highly terrifying to him to be actually in danger of getting hurt (again) and he will struggle with his fears for a long while. On the other hand, the devotion that's usually only an act becomes something very real and very deep instead. He even may change some of his ways for someone this important to him.
💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?
Betray him.
It’s what he expects, it’s what always happened, it's how people are made (he assumes to know), and it’s one of the reasons he doesn’t easily allow himself feelings like that. He was treated like a pet or toy too often during his youth and eventually turned it into a strength. It’s so easy to give people exactly what they want. And he can become any sort of pet or toy they wish for and dream of. – Until he has them where he wants them for his goals and games. When he breaks with this habit, when he actually allows himself true feelings again and finds the person was only toying with him or using him in some way …, yes his heart would be broken. He would retreat and give into some much darker tendencies.
~
Adrial:
🌟 GLOWING STAR - what do they think about when they look at the night sky? is there someone they want to star gaze with?
He thinks about all the unknown places out there, of other planes, of undiscovered knowledge, of mysteries he wants to see and resolve, of magic he urges to learn.
Sometimes he thinks of his own secrets or how/if he fits in a grander scheme of things, asks himself philosophical questions or gives into emotions for a while he otherwise conceals.
Right now there is no one in his life he wants to star gaze with. But this may change in the future, who knows?
👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?
Adrial would like to be remembered for his immaculate taste, as a savorer of the fine arts, and even more importantly: For some significant discoveries in the field of the occult or illusion magic. Maybe some phenomenon will be named after him?
Of course, he would prefer to – instead of being remembered – continue to watch developments from a comfortable place with a great view.
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class act // v.h.
requested by @lovesicksofi
a/n this was quite difficult to write. i felt like half the time i was info-dumping and i didn’t want anything to feel redundant or like it was slowing the pace down. however, i tried my best and i think it’s good. i hope this what you were expecting and wanting !
vinnie hacker x plus sized!actress!reader
Word Count: 1544, edited
WARNING: fluff, mentions of death (not real) blood (fake) and stabbing (fake), language, and sadness... i think that’s all.
---------
You were sitting at the makeup chair in your trailer, watching from the mirror as your makeup artist added blood to the corner of your lips. Today was the last day on set for you as your character in your highly anticipated drama film was meeting their demise. It was bittersweet, but after working for a good three months, you were finally happy to get it over with.
Being an actress was something you dreamed of doing. You went from being the sun in your elementary school’s “food chain” play to starring on Broadway in hits like Mean Girls or Wicked. Now, you were hitting the big screen. Though, when people found out about you, as happy as they were to have another talented actress in the business, they had a lot to say about your weight. You were more curvier, more fuller than most of the women in your field, and you faced a lot of criticism for it. No matter how good your acting was, you were always just the “overweight” girl.
At first, those words hurt, and it made you feel as though you wouldn’t make it in the industry. But then, you realized you had been working your ass off to get to where you are today. You damn sure weren’t about to let some snide remarks get in the way of you achieving your dreams. So, you kept pushing and pushing. Now, you had a leading role in a movie, starring alongside Margot Robbie and Brad Pitt.
“I think I need a little bit more pink in the eye.” You said to Andrew, your makeup artist. He rolled his eyes at you and continued to add blush to your cheeks.
“You’re dying, Y/n, not going to the club.”
You shrugged. “Nothing wrong with wanting to look good before I get stabbed.”
“Har, har…now tilt your head.” Andrew sneered, putting on my mascara. “So, where’s Jen? I miss her rants about contracts and stuff.”
“She’s with another client of hers. Something to do with dropping an album or whatever, I don’t know.”
Andrew snickered, screwing the top onto back onto the mascara. “She’s managing music artists too? Isn’t she quite the manager.”
“Tell me about it. I get lucky if she ever she shows me any attention.” You laughed as you pulled out your phone and started scrolling through Instagram. You went through and liked a bunch of pictures until you stopped on a certain person’s photo. A smile plastered itself onto your face as you admired the shirtless shot of your boyfriend, Vinnie.
“Is that the boyfriend I hear so much about?” Andrew grinned.
“That’s him indeed.” You answered with a smile. “His name’s Vinnie.”
You and Vinnie had been together for a good year. You both met at some sleazy influencer party. With you both clinging to wall, clearly not wanting to be there, you two made small talk. You chatted it up about everything: from favorite colors to Elmo, your conversations were wild. At the end of the night when you were getting ready to leave, he asked you for your number—much to your surprise. With glee, you gave it to him and thus led to a beautiful relationship. Of course, there was hate, people questioning what he was doing with you and mocking you because of your weight. But you weren’t focused on that. You had a gorgeous boyfriend and a blossoming career right in front of you. Jealous fans were the least of your worries.
“He’s a cutie, Y/n. You bagged a baddie.” Andrew joked, spritzing some setting spray on his masterpiece. “So, when can I meet him?”
Just before you could respond, the door to your trailer opened. You turned around and shrieked with excitement as your boyfriend wandered in. “I got lost and met Margot Robbie.” He said, causing you and Andrew to laugh. “Hey, babe.”
Vinnie stepped beside you and planted a kiss to your forehead. “Hey, baby!” You squealed. “This is Andrew, my makeup artist.”
You pointed towards the MUA who merely waved at Vinnie before pulling out his phone. “He’s not really social,” you said. “So, what are you doing here? I thought you were doing a sub-a-thon?”
“Well, I was going to, but I decided to come visit you instead.” He replied, moving to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his chin on your head. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“Of course, I am. I’m always happy to see you.”
He grinned and went to kiss your lips but before he could Andrew stopped him. “Not on my watch, sir. That took an hour and a half, and I really would like to not spend another one redoing it.”
You snickered, turning to Vinnie. “He takes his work seriously.”
“Duly noted.”
You and Vinnie shared a laugh and talked for a minute before you were called to set. After getting dressed in your tattered dress and fishnets, you left your trailer with Vinnie following behind you. Now, you were standing in the middle of a trashed hotel room with Brad Pitt across from you and Margot Robbie standing a few feet away. Vinnie stood with the crew as your director explained the scene thoroughly to you.
“Ginger”—he pointed at you—“is being attacked by Paul”—he pointed to Brad Pitt—“and Susan is banging on the door to help you, but it’s locked. When she opens it, you’re already dead, got it?”
You and the other two nodded before the director rushed to his seat behind the camera and yelled, “Action!”
Once the camera’s started rolling, it was like a shift for you. No longer were you Y/n, you were your character, inside and out. As Brad’s character, Paul—safely—flung you across the room, Vinnie couldn’t help but feel a little pained. He knew you were acting but seeing it, it hurt him a little. Margot’s screams rang throughout the set as she banged against the door. “Don’t hurt her, Paul!” she cried.
Tossing you onto the floor, Brad stood over you menacingly. “You wanna screw me over, bitch!” He shouted, gripping the straps of your dress as he pulled out the fake pocketknife in his back pocket.
“Please don’t do this, I’ll do anything. Please,” You cried, gripping onto Brad’s wrist. “Don’t, Paul…don’t do this!”
Vinnie gulped back a sob as he watched the scene unfold with tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Why am I acting like this? He thought. This isn’t real. But it felt real, all too real. It no longer felt like he was on movie set, no cameras or crew. To him, you weren’t playing a character, you were still Y/n…and you were being hurt. He couldn’t take it; he wanted to intervene and save you…but he couldn’t…and that broke his heart.
Soon enough, the epic moment came, and Brad plunged the “knife” deep into your abdomen. You let out an ear-piercing scream, sending chills down everyone’s body. Your breathing hitched as blood poured from your partly opened lips. And then…your body went limp.
“CUT!”
And with that, you we’re back to Y/n. The director ran over to you and pulled you up off the floor. “That was fucking amazing, oh my god! I’ve never worked with anyone who could convey that much emotion before!”
“Thank you!” You blushed. The rest of your cast and crew members flocked around you, complimenting you on your incredible performance. However, as you looked around, you noticed a specific someone missing from the small crowd. As you humbly accepted everyone’s praise, you said your goodbyes and went to search for you boyfriend around the set. When you didn’t find him, you headed back to your trailer. Before you opened the door, you heard the sound of soft cries. With furrowed brows, you walked into the trailer and there was your boyfriend, crying into a pillow on your couch.
“Vinnie? What’s wrong?” You cooed as you sat next to him and rubbed circles on his back.
He shook his head, keeping quiet. “Vinnie, just tell me. I’m not gonna judge you or anything.” You said.
“All of that…I know it was fake and it was just acting, but it felt so real. Seeing you just…die, it hurt me, y’know? I don’t know if it’s because you’re fucking good at what you do or if it’s just boyfriend instincts but, seeing that and knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop it…it was painful.”
“Oh, Vinnie.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m still here, babe. I’m alive, okay? Nothing actually happened to me.”
He nodded into your chest. “I know, but it was too real. I just had to leave.”
“And I understand. Had I known you were planning on coming, I would’ve warned you ahead of time. I didn’t know seeing me acting out a death scene was going to leave you like this. I’m sorry.”
“Y/n, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s just me being worried over you.”
You smiled, “Well, you have nothing to be worried about.” You placed a kiss on top of head and started to stroke his hair.
“I’m safe.”
“And a damn good actress.” Vinnie added.
“That too.”
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Vecna theory
So unless they rounded up the years - he's been there for 20 years. And unless there's time travel shenanigans. Vecna can't be Billy's corpse. And el ,as a little kid, couldn't have created vecna via throwing 001 into the upsidedown . Because El is only like 14-15 now.
So like... is it Victor's son? Unless, it's after the creel m*ders and he became an experiment or just worked at a lab (as peter cause he changed his name), and years later was trapped in the UD- the timeline doesn't quite fit either (it's 7 years off). 7 ref? Hmm. Vecna's lair , is the creel house after all.
freddy k refs are also all over s4. And in the freddy k comic - freddy was a human who became a literal monster because all the ab*se infl*cted on him ,by his father. Then he as an (adult) dream-monster preyed on kids/teens who also had ab*sive/n*glectful parents. I supposed it would sort of fit the themes we've seen in the past ( with papa, Neil, and lonnie). Which could be an explanation for why the monsters target certain people more than others. And why they mainly targeted Will, billy, and el, in prior seasons. Chrissy' allegedly has an ab*sive mother and is also targeted by vecna. And max had to deal with Billy ,her family, being ab*sive to her (and I'm not sure how her parents are treating her now). Which could also be why it's targeting her too ??? Will may be right , and the monsters go for "another me"- aka they may target people who have similar tra*matic upbringings stemming from familial tra*ma or other means too? We already see how the creels parallel the byers too: the de*d bunny, artist son who wears flannel, both families moving into new place, etc. And the rose door (where victor may or maynot hurt his family infront of) is also like how the demogorgan's face resembles a flower. In past seasons flowers have been associated with the fathers in the series. And demogorgan means "deep father".
" Growing up in foster care, Krueger ( maybe creel's son?) was bullied relentlessly because his bio dad was living in a mental asylum . In his late teens he m*rdered his abusive Step Father, leaving and burning the house down in his wake."
" (st's) Vecna (prob minfayer?) is a highly intelligent villain who will use a mixture of traumatic dreams, possession and portals to take over our realm and take down the cast."freddy k ref: freddy creates nightmarish dreams .
Also alot of inspirations for st: have the monsters mirror and shape-shift into multiple characters' fears + tra*ma (at least 12 films) . ( pennywise + the elmstreet and hellraiser franchises have monsters make dark fantasy versions of peoples' fears/memories - all 3 are cited as vecna inspo). Plus, the the upsidedown already mirrors various character's tra*ma: most prevalently el (monsters mirror her because her fear of being a monster/the monsters also parallel the lab ), Will/jonathan (demogorgan and mf mirror their dad, and media they consume), and hopper (the cave symbolized his depression, and the vines were sarah's ventilator ). And another st inspo is silent hill: the monsters inhabiting the dark-alternate-version of the town, reflect the dark underbelly /fears and tra*ma of all the real towns' people. Upsidedown is a : "dark reflection of our world" after all. In silent hill : the dark-version of the town,inhabited by monsters, was initally created by a psychic character with an ab*sive parent.
Freddy kreuger's childhood: and his step dad
Freddy (robert englund-victor) as a dad
Looks like alice. Also if one or both Creel kids did survive . Similar to freddy's daughter being spared by freddy. It would certainly negativily affect the kids mentally . I do think victor may have been possessed- and is somewhat a victim of circumstance. but maybe not? the shinning was on the s4 inspo list . We know (in the film) the dad was still ab*sive to his psychic son ,before the possession .And his possession just exacerbated his worst impulses .so who knows how i feel about Victor. The supernatural-messes, in the series may have started because of ab*sive parenting inflicted on 1 psychic child ." Every ending has a beginning". Vecna: "you're misery is coming to an end."
We even see before the possession the son is the only one frowning in the photo. I guess it could mean he just doesn't like getting his photo taken... but maybe it's a hint the boy is dealing with something internally (long before they move into the house).
Of course (crack theory) it's possible Will did create the mindflayer/ vecna/upsidedown (and gave them a backstory resembling his own- via the creel house). Will being handed the forever clock= vecna (means "forever" + the creel clock). Will being handed the "devil's baby" firework = demogorgan is eyeless like victor , and in d&d is a "demon father". Victor even mentions demons . Not to mention Will said the mindflayer-drawing was for a story he's writing. in d&d mindflayers are from the future and go into the past to create themselves ( which may be why all the upsideown creatures are associated with clocks).of course the parallels could be more symbolic. Regardless-
I'm just genuinely curious if it's indeed 20 years. Or if they threw that time-detail in, so the confused fandom scrambles to figure out what that means. Cause it throws a wrench in most of the popular theories on vecna,if true. So is the creel-son vecna instead? I wonder how it'll all fit together in the end?
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Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles
a/n: oh this one is a long boi and might not be the end??? i’ve been working on this fic for days and i have an idea for a possible second part, but i wrote this one so it has a fulfilling ending so it can stand as a oneshot as well! i barely just started working on the sequel, we’ll se how it’ll turn out, maybe it goes to shit lmao but whatever, it’s still a nice and whole story without a second part! this is my V-day gift to you all, have this nice professor!harry fic as if it was a box of chocolate! 🍓 🍫 🍬
special thanks to @pastequeharry who put up with my constant rambling and whining while i was writing this, you are a hero, his is dedicated to you!!
pairing: professor!Harry x Reader
warning: sexual content, abusing relationship, it’s got smut, angst, lot’s of banter and all that jazz!
word count: 21.4k
masterlist
There’s just a handful of things to know about Professor Harry Styles and that’s because of one of those very few known facts, the first one being that he is a highly private person. He rarely talks about himself or any aspects of his life, he always makes sure to keep it as professional as possible whenever he is teaching.
Second, he is easily the smartest professor to ever walk on campus, but he doesn’t like to brag about it. You never catch him showing off how much he knows, how big of a genius he is, you’ll just start to realize from the way he teaches and approaches certain topics, how he interacts with others and tries to pass his knowledge down to his students. He is brilliant and he should have all the credits for it, yet he still chooses to keep it to himself.
Third, and it’s the most well-known fact because to see this you just need to have a pair of eyes, he is undeniably the most handsome man to ever teach or if you’re being more precise, walk the hallways of the university. No football crazy, alcoholic fratboy or dreamy looking indie guy from the library can live up to what Professor Harry Styles is. With a face clearly carved by the angels, a nicely built but not too muscular frame, and occasionally displayed tattooed arm that makes you wonder what other artworks his stylish outfits are hiding, there’s no man like him and every female on campus agrees with that.
His lectures and courses are jampacked with sighing and heart-eyed college girls, daydreaming about the man who is solemnly just trying to teach the things he is so passionate about. But it’s not just the students, Professor Styles has managed to charm the female professors of all faculties, you can see them wander by his office way too often, they take any opportunity to talk to the man and try to seduce him. It’s unknown if he is oblivious to the effect he has on women or he chooses to ignore every and any attempts, but this is what leads us to the fourth fact.
Despite all the effort and energy that’s been put into his case by every single woman on campus to break the walls the professor has built around himself, he never let any of his students or colleagues to even think they could be romantically linked for real. Professor Styles keeps his distance and turns down any offer that could be mistaken to anything that doesn’t fit in the professional boundaries.
Anytime a student puts on the slightest flirtatious act towards the professor, he either rejects it straight away or ignores it completely and blatantly, making it his clear answer that he is not interested and then he goes back to teaching. You’ve seen it yourself, having him as one of your professors first year of uni, you fell for him just like every other girl in the lecture hall, dreaming about him in ways you probably shouldn’t think of a teacher while he was just casually talking about his grading system and how he is going to build up the lectures throughout the semester. Some brave girls who you assume were highly celebrated by boys in high school took the courage to openly flirt with him, but he didn’t even flinch before shutting all attempts down, not even a blush appeared on his perfectly cut cheekbones.
You thought of ways you’d try to seduce him yourself, but you never actually tried. You never had the balls to actually give it a go and then suffer from the worst embarrassment of your life when he rejects you. So you kept it all to yourself, only entertaining yourself with your elaborate plans about the seduction of your professor.
Second year passed without any classes with Professor Styles, you had only occasionally seen him come and go, rushing down the hallways holding his notebooks to his chest, a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand as he was heading to his lecture hall that you just knew was filled with girls. You always took a moment to yourself to admire his outfit. He has a tendency to pair odd items and make them look like the most put together fit ever that only he can pull off. However, you and your girlfriends always loved to tease him between each other for his grandpa-like sweaters and vests he seemed to love dearly.
“He confuses me, because I want him to fuck me on his desk but also, I feel like he is about to ask me what periodt means because he is too old to understand slang these days,” your friend, Nat said once when your little group was lounging under the huge oak tree between classes and the professor rushed past you, disappearing in the building without paying any of you a look. He wore a pair of beige slacks and a striped sweater, a wrinkly grey shirt peeking from under it at the bottom. The colors and the style overall once again gave you that old people feeling, but then you looked at his handsome face and couldn’t care any less about whatever he was wearing.
The most intimate way you ever saw him was a few days after your twenty-first birthday the summer before your last year of uni started. You just got back from your hometown, the first person to arrive back to your shared flat with Nat and Eden, so you had a few days on your own. You decided to redecorate your room so you took a trip to IKEA, taking your time looking through the set up rooms, just wandering around as you try to figure out what you really want to buy. Walking through the living room section you spotted the professor and first, you didn’t even recognize him.
He was wearing a pair of bright yellow shorts and a short sleeved shirt with floral prints on it, a pair of white framed sunglass on top of his head, keeping his unruly strands out of his face as he was eyeing a couch, seemingly deep in his thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, seeing him in such a casual and everyday setting. For some reason, he seemed like a completely different person.
A woman was there with him and as you walked closer you could hear a fraction of their discussion.
“I don’t know, Gems. Do I need a couch this big?”
“Looks comfy and I like the color. It would also fit in the space just right, I think you should get the bigger one if you have the space for it,” the woman put her two cents in and you wondered who she could be. Girlfriend? Just a casual friend? Maybe fiancé? She did have a ring that could easily go as an engagement ring so you couldn’t tell for sure.
As you were about to walk past you suddenly took the courage to say hi.
“Hello, Professor Styles!” you greeted him with a warm smile and his eyes flickered over to you from the couch in question. One thing you always admired about him is that he never forgot the faces of his students and as he looked at you, you knew he recognized you even if he didn’t know your name specifically.
“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.
“I like the couch,” you commented before slowly moving on. “Have a nice rest of your summer!”
“You too, Y/N,” he called after you and it took you by surprise that he remembered your name. Your lecture he taught had almost over a hundred students in it and you weren’t the most active one to stand out that easily, yet he still remembered you more than you were expecting.
That small encounter kept you thinking about him for way longer than you probably should have, especially because you knew you’d have a lecture with him again in the upcoming semester. Your daydreams about him made their way back into your mind as you spent the last days of your summer mostly with your friends. It got you thinking that if you managed to get him to remember your name, maybe you would give one of your plans a go and shoot your shot. He wouldn’t be teaching you in your last semester so you wouldn’t have to face him after he rejects you.
And this is how you came up with your little scheme.
On your last Sunday evening before school starts, you, Nat and Eden sit in the floor of your living room, drinking some white wine as a way of saying goodbye to the carefree summer moments and getting back to the working days of being a senior at uni. Professor Styles came up completely randomly and you let it slip that you’ve just seen him recently at IKEA with a woman and it all led to you admitting that you’ll finally shoot your shot at the professor. Nat and Eden both did the same already, however their attempts were completely ignored and they always bugged you to give it a try yourself, being the only one in your group who hasn’t tried to seduce the professor yet.
“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell me it’s stupid because I actually think it’ll be funny and a little bit genius,” you tell them before you start sharing the details on your plan.
“Just spill the beans already!” Eden pokes you before she reaches for the bottle and refills her glass.
“Okay, so you both know I took this psychology class last semester for extra credits, right?” The nod and you continue. “The teacher told us about this thing called classical conditioning or they call it pavlovian response too. The guy, Pavlov, did an experiment where he paired the feeding of dogs with a bell ring and after a certain amount of time the dogs started salivating at just the sound of the bell, because they remembered that it’s connected to food. The teacher said this is literally one of the easiest tricks to pull on people.”
“Oh, isn’t this one of the things Jim did on Dwight in The Office?” Nat asks furrowing her eyebrows.
“It is!” you nod, glad that they are understanding the base of your plan. “So, I’ve heard that Professor Styles loves strawberry flavored candies. I thought that I would bring some every day when I see him and offer him some. Slowly, he’ll pair the candy with the thought of me and he’ll get excited when he sees me because he’ll think I have candy for him and it will hopefully work the other way around and he’ll think of me when he is eating strawberry flavored candy that’s not from me.”
Your friends blink at you for a moment, processing what you just shared with them before Eden takes a huge sip of her drink.
“This is the most ridiculous but also the most genius thing I’ve ever heard,” she nods holding her glass up towards you.
“I can’t believe you will pull a psychological experiment on Professor Styles,” Nat shakes her head with a soft chuckle.
“It’s not a blunt way to get closer to him and if he accuses me of trying to flirt I can just say that I’ve been only sharing candy with him, I literally did nothing,” you point out, pretty proud of your solution to your deep fear of having to take his rejection publicly.
“If you get a Noble for this shit, make sure to thank us in your speech,” Eden laughs and you promise to do so when the big moment comes.
Monday morning you make a quick trip to Target and buy a big bag of strawberry flavored candies, probably enough to last for the whole semester, and then you make your way to campus. Following your first lecture you meet up with Eden who also signed up for Professor Styles’ lecture this semester, so the two of you make your way towards the lecture hall together.
“I really can’t believe you are doing this,” she chuckles when you get the candy ready as you near the room. The professor is always the first one in the lecture hall so you know you’ll find him there already.
“You can’t tell me it’s not a funny plan,” you smirk at her. And just as you walk in, you immediately spot the professor sitting at the desk at the front, going over the syllabus before the start. “Save a seat for me,” you tell Eden who just laughs and makes her way up the stairs along the desks.
Grabbing the pack of sweets from your bag you walk up to the professor, feeling confident with your plan. He lifts his head up when he notices your arrival and your eyes meet with his green ones.
“Hello, professor. Would you like some candy?” you simply ask with an innocent smile.
Professor Styles stares at you for a moment before his eyes move down to the candy in your hand, the opening of the bag facing him in a welcoming manner.
“I, uhh… what flavor?” he curiously asks and you can barely push down your smirk.
“Strawberry.”
“Oh. I’ll… take one, thank you,” he nods, hand reaching into the bag as he grabs just one single candy, unwrapping the package before he pops it into his mouth. “Thank you,” he nods again with a delightful smile.
“Of course. Did you buy the couch?” you ask, taking slow steps away from the desk as he keeps his eyes on you.
“I… did not. Bought another one,” he admits shortly and you know you’ve reached the limit. If you ask more, he’ll get suspicious, so you just nod smiling before walking up to the spot Eden has reserved for you. When you sit down, you catch the professor paying you one last glance before he returns to what he was previously doing.
“You are a genius, because now we can watch him suck on a fucking candy for the next few minutes,” Eden mumbles quietly, making you laugh.
“I knew this would be a good plan,” you sigh, satisfied with the work you’ve done. Now it’s just a matter of time.
Every Monday and Wednesday, you arrive with the same bag of candy to the lecture hall, walk up to Professor Styles and offer him one. And he always takes one. The first few times he seems hesitant when he spots you approaching him, but he slowly grows used to your tiny act of kindness that occurs every time you see him. On week three you expand the plan. You usually have lunch with Nat on Thursdays since you both have a break between one and two pm. The two of you try to take advantage of the warm early autumn days and sit under the pergola that’s near the building where Professor Styles’ office is as well. It’s mere coincidence, you only like that place because it’s close to the lecture hall you have to go to after lunch, but you notice that the professor emerges from Building C around one thirty, walking back to his office probably after one of his classes. The sidewalk runs directly next to the pergola so it gives you a chance to bring the candy out one more time every week. You nicely greet him when he is nearing the two of you and then hold out the bag, asking if he wants some. He always takes one and thanks you with a sweet smile that leaves you a tad bit blushed.
“I can’t fucking believe your plan is working,” Nat chuckles in disbelief on one occasion when the professor just disappeared in the building, probably happily unwrapping his candy of the day.
“It’s funny, innit?” you grin at her proudly.
Frankly, this is just a fun experiment for you. You don’t actually think that the professor will think of you differently even the slightest. You might be able to plant the thought of you in his head, but that doesn’t instantly mean that he’ll start fancying you and actually do something about it. It would be ridiculously naïve to think it’s going to be you who breaks through the wall that hundreds of women had already tried to knock down.
Week six is what brings the breakthrough. After long consideration and discussion with Nat and Eden, you decide to test if the experiment has been successful. You offer one last candy on Monday, but Wednesday brings the change. You go to lecture without candy. Well, you have it on you, but you decide not to ask him if he wants some.
Walking into the lecture hall, as always, he is already sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a book when you walk up to him with the intention of asking him a question on the paper that’s due next week.
“Professor Styles?” you softly speak up, catching his attention. “Can I have a question about the paper?”
“Of course,” he nods and you can’t tell just yet if he was expecting the candy or not.
“I was wondering if I can use a diagram to visualize my results at the end. I have a brilliant idea to summarize the data with one.”
“Sure, just make sure to give credit wherever it’s due, if you are using someone else’s work for the diagram.”
“Definitely,” you smile at him and wait a moment. That’s where you see the anticipation in his eyes.
His gaze flickers down to your hands and then to your bag where you always carry the candy and when his eyes meet yours again, you see him swallow hard.
He was expecting the candy. Not only expecting, but he started salivating when he saw you, thinking that he would get the candy from you as always.
“Is… that all?” he asks, the slightest hint of hope appearing in his tone, probably waiting for you to pull the bag of candy out of your bag and offer him one. But it’s not happening today.
“Yes, thank you very much,” you nod smiling widely before you turn around and walk away, a shocked and triumphant look appearing on your face once he can’t see it anymore and when Eden sees you, she gasps.
“He fucking expected the candy, didn’t he?!” she whispers at you in shock and you nod frantically, still not believing your plan worked.
“You should have seen the anticipation in his eyes, he really thought I was gonna offer him some!”
“Oh my God, this is hilarious!” Eden laughs covering her mouth as the lecture hall starts to fill up slowly.
Turning forward, you see that the professor is sitting behind his desk, the book that had his attention before your arrival is long forgotten in front of him, now he is staring ahead of him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, deep in his thoughts.
Is he thinking about you? Or why he was expecting candy from you?
You see him reach for his water bottle and he takes two big gulps probably to wash away his need for the candy before he narrows his eyes and at last they find you in the auditorium. You tilt your head to the side innocently smiling, as if you know absolutely nothing about anything. You keep eye-contact, forcing you not to be the one who breaks it and he is intimidating. You feel like he can read your mind as he stares at you and when he finally turns his gaze back at the book, you exhale sharply.
The lecture goes down just as usual and when the professor dismisses the class you decide to put the cherry to the top. Walking down between the desks you grab a candy from your bag and while the professor is talking to a girl who also had a question about the paper, you place the candy to his desk next to his book. He doesn’t see you walk out and you don’t see him when he finds it, but something is telling you he figured you out. No way a man as smart as him doesn’t realize what game you’ve been playing with him.
Sitting under the pergola on Thursday you are deep in discussion with Nat, helping her with a task sheet she has to turn in after lunch but she completely forgot about it. As the two of you are trying to do the seemingly endless sheet, you don’t even notice the professor walking from Building C, as always, but he spots you.
“No, I don’t think that’s even a thing, you can’t write that,” you tell Nat, but she shakes her head.
“I don’t care if it’s a thing, I just want to fill in the whole thing so the teacher doesn’t think I finished it in twenty minutes before class,” she mumbles, scribbling down her answer as you just chuckle at her.
Suddenly, you see a pair of dusty Vans appear in your sight and as your eyes move up, you are facing none other than Professor Styles, standing right in front of you, holding out his hand with his hand turned upwards, a cheeky smile tugging on his lips. His appearance takes you by surprise and for a moment you just dumbly stare down at his palm, then up at his eyes.
“Very smart. Pulling a pavlovian on me with my favorite candy,” he speaks up, dropping his hand as he cocks his head to the side. Nat looks up from her sheet with wide eyes as you stare at the professor with blushing cheeks.
“I have no idea what you are talking about, professor,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.
“Of course. You know, it took me a moment to realize yesterday, but I wanted to let you know that… I think it was clever.”
“If I knew anything about what you’re talking about… I would say thank you. But I stand up for my innocence.”
“Surely,” he chuckles softy. “Have a great rest of your week,” he then nods before turning around to walk away, but you quickly reach into your bag and grab a candy.
“Professor Styles!” you call out and he turns back just in time to catch the candy you throw in his way. He glances at it in his palm before his eyes snap up to you again, smirking at you shortly before he disappears in the building.
“Okay, call me stupid, but I could feel the sexual tension between the two of you,” Nat says as soon as the professor is out of sight.
“Don’t be silly, it was just… a joke and he liked it.”
“He called you clever, Y/N!”
“No, he called my trick clever.”
“But you came up with it so you’re clever too. Say whatever you want, but I actually think you have a shot at him.”
“I definitely don’t,” you laugh shaking your head and you genuinely believe it. Nat scoffs before she gets back to her sheet, but not without having one last thought about the situation.
“We’ll be laughing at how you brainwashed him into liking you when you’ll be dating for years, living together and all that shit.”
You’ve made some very questionable choices in your dating life prior. Like when you dated a boy in high school and let him take your virginity at the back of his mom’s minivan just to break up with your right after that, or when you briefly dated the guy you met at the mall, but it later turned out he was gay and he used you as his cover up in front of his family. But the worst decision of all was dating an egoistic forty years old loser who just freshly got divorced and went after you at some tacky bar you were at with your friends.
The time you spent dating Victor is way less than the time he has been bothering you, trying to make you go back to him when you’ve actually told him you don’t want anything to do with him anymore. You broke up with him just before you went home for the summer and he didn’t take it well, even drove up to your hometown and showed up at your parents’ house drunk, begging for you to take him back. He never stood a chance, not after that one time he slapped you across the face during a fight the two of you had. You tolerate a lot of things but not violence and you don’t believe him when he says it was just a onetime thing. There’s no guarantee he won’t hit you ever again and you are definitely not waiting around to see if he told you the truth.
On this particular late October evening you are searching through your whole room looking for a book you know you have, but can’t seem to find anywhere. It’s your holy bible about research methodology and you need it for your thesis work, but it seems like the small apartment has completely swallowed it.
“Didn’t you leave it at Victor’s? You were working on that long essay when you were dating him, saw you use the book all the time,” Eden tells you when you ask her if she’s seen it anywhere and then it clicks.
She is right, now you remember leaving the book at his once and you completely forgot to pick it up after things got nasty between the two of you.
“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.
Not feeling like calling him, you send him a quick text, hoping he still has it and hasn’t burned it after one of your fights.
Y/N: Hey, I think I left my research methodology book at yours. You still have it?
Victor: I do.
Y/N: Cool, can I drop by to pick it up?
Victor: I’m leaving for work, you can come to the bar if you want it.
You sigh in defeat. Victor is a bartender at a place that’s all the way across town, takes almost an entire hour to get there, but you are left with no other choice.
Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.
The raining has finally stopped this morning so you feel better leaving the house than you would have if it was still pouring. You take the bus and travel across town, feeling anxious to see Victor again. Last time you met him he cursed you out and threw his phone at you, barely missing your head. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go near him again after that, but it seems like you can never get completely rid of him.
Students rarely come to this part of the town, it’s way too far from campus and has nothing to offer that can’t be found closer to the dormitories or the school’s buildings. It’s not entirely your scene either, the bars around here are liked by older generations, not by people your age, this is another reason why you don’t like coming around here.
The bar where Victor works is a place where they have different local bands perform every Friday and Saturday. It’s not a tacky nook with creepy dudes, they actually have prices on the higher end, not something you can necessarily afford with your part time job’s paycheck from the small accounting office near your apartment where you work as an assistant on your free afternoons.
Walking into the place you immediately spot Victor behind the bar and you take a deep breath before you walk up to him.
“Hey,” you call out for him, taking one of the stools along the bar.
“Hey. Long time no see.”
“Happens when you break up with someone,” you respond with a little spice and he frowns at your words. “Can you give me the book?”
“I’ll have a break in ten, can you wait for that or you have something extra urgent shit to do, as always?” You can tell he is still bitter from how things ended between the two of you, but you’ve learned not to care about it. His way of dealing with the breakup is not your responsibility, no matter how hard he is trying to prove it wrong.
You roll your eyes but nod, knowing well there’s no use to fight him. Ten minutes is not the end of the world. Busying yourself on your phone, you try to stay unnoticed and luckily, Victor can’t keep chatting with you, because customers keep coming up to him and ordering drinks. When he finally has his break he tells you to follow him to the back.
“So how have you been?” he asks as you walk down the hallway that leads to the small break room, there’s an office at the end and some kind of changing room you guess for the bands, along with a storage.
“Fine.”
“You really gonna be a bitter bitch and not talk to me?” he asks you, giving you a disgusted look, but you know it’s just the anger talking from him.
“Victor, I didn’t come here to talk, I just need my book!”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t answer my question.”
“I answered it! I’ve been fine, now give me the damn book!” you growl, losing your patience with him, but he is seemingly in the same shoes.
“When will you stop being a bitch and just drop this ridiculous act, Y/N? I’ve been after you for months yet you keep ignoring me!”
“Did it ever occur to you that I’m ignoring you because I don’t want anything to do with you? Victor, it’s been months, just… move the fuck on! Go cry to your ex-wife or something, I don’t care!”
You didn’t mean to snap, but he always brings the worst out of you. From the corner of your eyes you can see movement at the other end of the hallway where the changing room is, but you don’t get to pay much attention to it, because the next moment Victor grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him.
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! You ungrateful slut, I swear…”
There’s little you can do, he is twice as big as you are, his grip on your arm so strong there’s no doubt it will leave a mark. Your heart is racing as you try to pull yourself out of his hold, but he doesn’t even bat an eye at your attempt.
However, before he could drag you into the empty breakroom to do god knows what, he is stopped by a voice.
“Hey! Let her go!”
If you weren’t shocked enough at his violent reaction, now you are definitely think you’re going nuts, because it’s none other than Professor Styles who is now nearing you with a hard expression on his face, two other guys following right behind him and though none of them are bigger than Victor, he knows he can’t just start a fight with three men.
Your chest is heaving when the professor finally reaches you and Victor’s hold lets go of you, making you fall back a little.
“You perform here twice and think you’re some kind of rockstar?” Victor spats at the professor, but you’re a little lost in what’s really going on. Professor Styles gently grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, eyes never leaving Victor’s burning gaze.
“You alright?” one of the other two men asks and you nod, not finding your voice to actually speak.
“Get the hell out of my sight before I call the police on you,” the professor answers in a calm yet threatening voice
Victor takes a second to himself, thinking about the choices he has before he turns around and disappears in the breakroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving you in complete shock about what just happened.
Professor Styles then turns around, his eyes soften at seeing how shaken you are and quite frankly, you feel like you are in a bad and quite weird dream.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, clearly worried about you and you just shake your head no.
“I-I’m fine, I think,” you mumble out of breath.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the guy who asked if you’re alright suggests and you nod in agreement, following them kind of blindly, the three of them keeping you in their little circle as you walk out to the bar and they don’t stop until you are out of the place in the cold night air. You slowly come back to reality and process that Professor Styles just saved you out of fucking nowhere from your abusive asshole ex. That’s what you call a plot twist.
You finally take a moment to look at the other two guys, they both look the same age as the professor, or maybe a little older, both of them are rocking some facial hair, the one that asked you seems a little more open while the other one quite reserved but friendly looking.
“What… What were you doing back there?” you ask, turning to face the professor. He clearly seems upset, but you’re not sure if it’s entirely because of what happened with Victor back then or because you are standing outside some random bar on a Saturday night, definitely crossing his personal boundaries he keeps so high at school.
“We played here tonight, was just about to leave when I saw you.”
“You have a band?” you ask, shocked at the detail.
“A pretty good one,” the talkative guy chuckles. “I’m Adam, nice to meet you. This is Mitch.”
You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.
“Y/N is… my student,” the professor adds as if he is clearing the air for his bandmates, a kind of warning for them.
From the direction of the parking lot two women emerge, laughing on something as they walk up to the four of you, both of them eyeing you curiously.
“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”
“Sarah, Charlotte, this is Y/N, she is my student. Y/N, these are my other band mates, Sarah and Charlotte,” the professor introduces you as you shake hands with them quickly.
“I-I’m sorry I interrupted your time with your friends, professor,” you shyly apologize, feeling like a complete intruder all of a sudden with all his bandmates around you.
“Interrupt? Sweetheart, that dude was about to do some unforgivable things to you, don’t apologize for needing help,” Adam snorts. “You’re lucky we were there.”
“What? What happened?” Sarah asks in confusion.
“Just… my asshole ex got a little too violent when I didn’t want to chit-chat with him,” you admit with a defeated sigh.
“Oh shit, but are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you smile faintly, though you still can feel his grip on your upper arm. “I, um… I better get going, I guess. Thank you for… the saving,” you say, a little lost about what should be said in this situation.
“You’re leaving? We were just about to go to a much better place, why don’t you come with us, forget about your ex a little?” Charlotte offers and you catch the professor’s panicked look for a split second.
“I, um… I don’t think I should, but thank you.”
“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.
“Because I know how Professor Styles hates to mingle with students outside of lectures and I don’t want to cross any lines,” you truthfully admit. The professor furrows his eyebrows.
“I don’t hate mingling with students,” he states.
“Well, you are surely not the most reachable professor on campus,” you chuckle lightly. “But it’s fine, I understand it. So I’ll just head home.”
“Come on, Harry. Let her tag along for just one drink!” Sarah begs and seemingly everyone would be happy to have you join for a little. The professor’s eyes meet yours, as if he is contemplating whether he should say yes or let you go home. When he finally speaks up you’re more surprised than when you realized it was him saving you from Victor.
“I guess you could use a drink after what happened in there,” he says, the tiniest smirk showing on his lips as your eyes shoot up.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, come on,” he nods and your little group heads down the street.
Turns out the place they were heading to was just two corners down, so they left all their stuff at the minivan at the parking lot for the time being. You slide into an empty booth, Adam and Mitch go to get the first round, so it’s just the three of you girls and the professor.
“So you’re in one of Harry’s lectures?” Charlotte asks with a warm smile.
“Yeah, for the second time, actually. Had him in first year, now it’s my fifth semester and I had no doubt I have to take his class if I have the chance.” You pay a glance at him, but he is staring at his hands on his lap, you can’t tell if it’s because he is uncomfortable with you there or if it’s something else.
“It’s so funny, because we’ve heard that he is known to be a good teacher but we never actually heard it from one of his students,” Sarah chuckles. “What’s he like?”
“Sarah, you enjoy talking about me when I’m very much present?” he scoffs, giving her a look, but she just shrugs innocently.
“Come on, I bet even you’re curious about what your students think of you. Now is your time to find it out!”
“I think Professor Styles knows very well that he is one of the best, if not the actual best,” you truthfully say and see him raise his eyebrows a little.
“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.
You glance at him again, as a way of asking for permission if you can answer. You definitely don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about him when he is right next to you. He looks into your eyes, and his expression tells you that he wants to hear your answer as well, but he quickly adds:
“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”
“It’s not a secret,” you admit it with a smile. “Professor Styles’ lectures always leave you with a question to think about until next week, he is great at getting into your head without you even noticing. He explains the most complicated things in so simple ways, it should be taught,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I think his enormous knowledge about many different fields in science and just life in general is amusing, anyone can learn something from him, it’s guaranteed.”
“Wow, where is this academic genius side of yours when you’re around us, or we only get to see the dad joke version of you?” Sarah teases him and you can’t push down a laugh, imagining him cracking dad jokes feels so alien but still kind of fitting for him.
“That’s what you get when you’re a nosy little thing,” he retorts with a small smirk. He then turns to you, and as Sarah and Charlotte are laughing on something, he lowly tells you: “You can call me Harry outside of school. Feels weird that you call me professor when my friends are around.”
“You sure?”
He nods and you spot a small smile on his lips. He must be getting used to the feel of you being there, but you still don’t want to push his limits too much.
“Can I ask you something?” he questions, leaning back in his seat.
“Of course.”
“If your ex is this aggressive, why were you there with him?”
His question is surprising, you didn’t think he would ask you something personal, but you guess it’s a valid question after he just saved you from Victor.
“I wanted to get a book back that I left at his place. Didn’t even get to the point where he could have given it back,” you mumble under your breath.
“What book?”
“Just this… research methodology book, wanted it back for my thesis work, but I guess I’ll have to buy a new one,” you huff bitterly.
“Is it the one written by William Scott?”
“Y-Yeah, it is. You know it?” you ask, but then realize it’s a bit of a dumb question. He probably knows every academically important book you will ever come across.
“I actually have it myself,” he nods. Just then, Mitch and Adam return with the drinks and you thank them for the beer, already reaching for your money to pay, but Adam shakes his head.
“It’s on me, don’t worry.”
You watch as Mitch sits beside Sarah, curling an arm around her shoulders and though you couldn’t have guessed that they are a couple, seeing them like this it actually makes sense, they look cute together.
You take a sip from your beer, trying to join the conversation Sarah and Charlotte are having, when your attention is pulled back by Harry.
“I can… lend you the book, if you want.”
“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll just get a new one.”
“No, really. I think I even have two copies, I can give one to you.”
“I couldn’t ask you that, prof—I mean Harry.”
“You’re not asking,” he smiles at you softly. “I probably won’t need both, so why not put the extra into use?”
“Okay, but I’ll pay for it,” you insist, but Harry shakes his head.
“No need, one of them was a gift so I didn’t pay for it either.”
“Well… if you’re sure about it, I would love to have that extra copy, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So Y/N, what do you study exactly?” Adam questions, pulling you out of your little discussion with Harry.
“I’m majoring in anthropology, but I’ve been taking some psychology classes on the side just because I’m interested in the topics.”
“And what is Harry teaching you?”
“Had him for intro Sociology lecture first year, now I’m in his Methodology of Cultural Anthropology class.”
“All these subjects with their GY endings, I don’t know how you two put up with science on this level,” Sarah huffs in amusement.
“The names sometimes sound fancier than the subject itself,” you tell her smiling.
“But I bet you need to be quite smart to study these stuff on this level you are at.”
“Oh, it’s just a bachelorette degree, I wouldn’t say I’m that smart,” you chuckle shyly.
“She is totally toning it down,” Harry speaks up, catching everyone’s attention. “I know students tend to take my into Sociology class for just some extra credits so I always give them two options for the semester. They can either write a two pages long review of any article related to the topics talked about at lecture and get their strong C with the bare minimum, or actually participate and do a research of their own and turn in an at least seven pages long essay about their chosen topic. Y/N turned in an eleven pages long paper on the history of death sentences in the U.S. in the last fifty years and how society is thinking about it nowadays. It was easily one of the best works I’ve ever read and it was just an intro class.”
“You remember my essay?” you ask in complete shock.
“Of course. As I said, one of the bests I’ve read,” he nods confidently.
“So you’re like… on Harry’s smart level, actually?” Sarah asks, tilting her head to the side and you can feel yourself blushing.
You’ve always been said to be the smart kid at school, but you never thought it to be true yourself. In your book, you were just doing your absolute best, soaking in whatever knowledge was thrown in your way. You never actually understood how someone could just not study for an exam or not do an assignment, because you always felt like it was your duty to do the best you can. You thought yourself to be more of a hard-working student rather than a smart one.
“She is definitely a bright one,” Harry agrees, his eyes meeting yours as a small smile appears on his lips and you think that this is the biggest compliment you’ve ever gotten. “She actually tricked me with a psychological experiment and I didn’t even realize it,” he laughs and you can’t hold your smirk back.
“What? What did you do?” Charlotte asks, dying to know how you played Harry.
“Have you heard of the Pavlovian response?” you ask looking around and you can tell it rings a bell for all of them.
“The one with the dogs and the bell?” Mitch asks and you nod.
“Wait you did that on Harry?” Adam laughs with wide eyes and you just nod with a sly smile.
“I just offered him strawberry flavored candies every time I saw him. Took me six weeks to build up the response but he actually started expecting it whenever he saw me,” you tell them chuckling to yourself.
“And I only realized it when she stopped with the candy and I felt this massive feeling that something was missing,” Harry adds shaking his head with a soft laugh.
“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Sarah snorts clapping her hands together. “Y/N, I adore you, you’re brilliant!”
“It was just… an experiment,” you shrug shyly.
The night carries much faster than you realize. One drink turns into three and before you could realize, it’s already past midnight. Eden texts you, asking where you are since you said you’d just get the book and go home right away, but it’s been hours.
Y/N: Don’t freak out, but I’m at a bar with Prof. Styles and his friends. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!
Eden: HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO FREAK OUT AFTER READING THIS???!?!
Y/N: Lol, chill. Nothing extra is happening.
Eden: It’s already extra that you’re out with him.
Realizing how late it is, you decide you better get going, since it’s a long way back home. When you tell the little group that you’re about to head out, they all agree that it’s time to part ways and leave, so you all slowly make your way back to the parking lot.
“Do you know where the bus stop is back?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, trying to spot where you should be heading.
“You want to go home by bus at this time?” Harry asks.
“Well, I surely won’t pay for a ride, I live almost an hour away from here.”
“An hour?” he frowns. “I’ll take you home, come on,” he tells you, heading towards the minivan.
“What? No need. The bus is fine,” you protest, but he shakes his head.
“You are not taking the bus at this hour, not under my watch,” he simply states and you raise your eyebrows at him.
“Didn’t realize I was under your watch,” you tease him and it seems like your comment caught him off-guard. “Don’t piss your pants, I was just joking,” you tell him, and thought for a second you feel like you are being way too comfortable around him, his smile quickly smashes your doubts.
Sarah, Mitch and Charlotte all take an Uber since they live near each other and Adam is picked up by his wife, so when everyone is off to their own way, you and Harry get in the van and head to your place.
“How long have you had the band?” you ask, in need to break the silence that’s been weighing down on the two of you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” you add quickly when you see him.
“About four years. Used to have another one, but we parted ways.”
“And what do you do in the band?”
“I, uhh… Well I mostly sing but I also play the guitar.”
“You know, I’m not that surprised you can sing,” you chuckle to yourself sinking further down in your seat.
“How come?”
“You have a voice that’s great to listen to at lectures, makes sense that you can sing as well.”
You take a moment to look at his hand that’s gripping the steering wheel, he is the kind that drives with one hand on the wheel, the other one on the shifting gear. He makes it look so easy as he steers the wheel whenever he is turning a corner while his other one easily moves around the shifting gear, his tattoos are peeking from under his rolled up shirt sleeve. He catches you staring and you feel a blush burning on your cheeks as you turn your head to the other side. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk that third beer…
“Am I really seen that rigid by the students?” he speaks up after a while and you turn back to face him.
“What do you mean?”
“You said I’m known about not mingling with students.”
“Well, you don’t mingle, do you? But it doesn’t mean you come off as rigid. More like… closed-off. Private.”
“I know I should be a little friendlier, but I just…”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, I think everyone gets it why you’re like that.”
“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.
“Well, you’re obviously a ladies’ favorite, but it doesn’t sit well with you being a person of some sort of power. It’s clear that you don’t want anyone to get the wrong picture about you. I’ve seen how bluntly girls are flirting with you, some of them are quite scandalous if you ask me,” you huff to yourself. “I totally get it that you don’t want even just a rumor to spread about you.”
“Didn’t think I was that obvious,” he admits, running his tongue over his lips.
“Don’t worry about it, you’re still a highly fancied professor, in all means,” you tell him with a warm smile.
“Does this mean you also fancy me?” he suddenly questions and your lips part at his words. He quickly realizes how ambiguous he just sounded. “I mean, am I one of your favorites? Where do I stand in your chart of professors?”
You can’t tell for sure because of the lack of lighting, but you could have sworn there’s a light blush on his cheeks as he corrects himself. Because of this, you don’t know for sure if he really meant it academically. Either way, the answer is the same.
“You’re my favorite,” you confidently state and your eyes meet for a moment before he turns back to face the road.
The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, you keep giving him directions to your place until you finally arrive a little before one am.
“Well, thank you for the ride,” you smile at him, grabbing the door handle.
“See you on Monday,” he nods shortly and watches as you get out of the can.
“Yeah, see you, professor,” you smirk before shutting the door and walking up the stairs and disappearing in your building.
“Was that Professor Styles in the fucking minivan?!” Nat throws the question at you the moment you open the front door.
“Jesus, why are you still up?” you sigh, shutting the door and shimmying yourself out of your coat.
“Because we were waiting for you!” Eden rolls her eyes. “So, care to tell us what the fuck just happened?”
The three of you get comfortable on the couch and you give them a quick rundown of your evening from meeting Victor through being saved by Harry right to him offering to drive you home and they listen to you with wide eyes in complete shock that you just spent your entire evening with the most handsome professor on campus who also happens to be the most private as well.
“If I didn’t see him sitting in that van with my own eyes I would straight up think you’re lying, but I saw his tattooed hand over the windshield,” Nat gasps, processing the story.
“I know, I still feel like it didn’t happen, but it did.”
“And what is he like around his friends? What are his friends like?” Eden questions, hugging her knees to her chest.
“He is pretty much just like in lecture, just jokes a little more and he has a looser vocab. His friends are hilarious, I really got along with Sarah.”
“I know you still think it won’t happen, but I actually think you have a shot at him, Y/N,” Eden points it out and you just chuckle.
“Why, because he saved me from my douche ex?”
“No, because he let you stay for the night with him and his friends. This is literally the first ever time a student hung out with him.”
“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry is a reserved and private person—“
“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.
“You are now just casually calling him Harry?” Nat asks with ogling eyes.
“Well, yes, he asked me to, because it felt weird that I was calling him Professor Styles with his friends around.”
“Okay, I’m giving it… let’s say, he seems to be moving pretty slow, but y’all will be fucking in about six months,” Nat bluntly tells you and it makes you laugh.
“Oh, sure, whatever. I’m gonna shower and head to bed, you two don’t get too crazy with your fairytales,” you wave at them before disappearing in the bathroom.
The rest of the weekend goes by uneventfully, outside of the pathetic attempt from Victor to get you to talk to him, but you’ve had enough of him for a life so you finally block his number and hope you won’t ever see him again.
Both you and Eden oversleep on Monday morning, skipping your early morning lecture and already being late for Harry’s class as well, so you barely make it to Harry’s class in time, just sprinting up the rows, flopping down to your usual seats when Harry starts the lecture. It all goes as usual as if nothing really happened during the weekend, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Glancing over at his desk you spot the book he promised you and you can’t hold your smile back. Still grinning, your eyes accidentally meet with his gaze and he stops for a heartbeat as if he is questioning why you are so smiley, but you just shake your head and he carries on before anyone could suspect a thing.
“I gotta run, my favorite TA is having his office hours now and I have a few questions for him. See you at home?” Eden asks once the lecture is over and you are getting ready to leave.
“Sure, have a good day!” you call after her and she sings a ‘you too!’ before running out of the room.
You pack up and head down between the rows, Harry spotting you right away and you go up to him without him even asking you to.
“Hey, sorry we were a little late to class this morning,” you tell him and he just shakes his head kindly.
“No worries. How… is your arm?” He furrows his eyebrows, his gaze wandering down to your forearm where Victor grabbed you on Saturday.
“Oh, it’s fine. I just have a little bruise,” you shrug, because it really isn’t that big deal, but you can tell Harry is still outraged by what happened.
“M’sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. Would be worse if you weren’t there,” you smile at him kindly and he nods to himself before turning to his desk.
“I, uhh, I brought the book we talked about,” he shyly says grabbing it from the desk. As people are exiting the room you can feel the glares on yourself, most of them are probably trying to figure out why Harry is talking to you for so long, but you don’t pay much attention to them as you take the book he hands you.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it?”
“No need, keep it, it’s yours,” he shakes his head with a small smile.
“Thank you then.” You slide the book into your bag before looking back up at him. “Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, professor,” you smile warmly before heading out.
“See you!” he calls after you before you close the door behind you.
The week carries on as usual, you are working on papers that needs to be turned in before the fall break so you spend some extra time at the library, using every bit of free time you have so you finish everything on time.
Things go back to kind of normal with Harry, he greets you in the mornings when you walk into the lecture hall and other than the warm smile he occasionally gives you, nothing has changed.
Friday however brings a surprise, but not from Harry. You’re sitting at work in the afternoon, typing away on your computer, filling in some sheets when you get a notification on your phone from Instagram.
Sarah Jones is now following you!
You tap on her profile but see that it’s private so without a second thought you request following. Luckily, she approves you only a few seconds later and you gain access to her posts, quite a few of them featuring Harry on them.
Photos of birthdays, weekend getaways, band practices and performances, Harry makes a lot of appearances on her feed and you find yourself scrolling all the way down until you reach the first few posts from 2016. Just as you are about to leave her profile you get a message from her.
Sarah: Hey Y/N! Charlotte and I’ve been talking about you recently, loved having you with us last Saturday! Want to grab a drink with the two of us this weekend?
Y/N: Would love to, but I’m not sure Harry would like the idea…
Sarah: He won’t be there and besides, who is he to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with?
She is right. You enjoyed spending time with them as well and Harry has little to no word in if you want to meet up with his friends or not. This invitation has no connection to him being your professor.
Y/N: Alright, I’m down!
This is how your friendship with Sarah and Charlotte starts. You meet up with them on Saturday and have an amazing time, they are definitely fun people to spend time with and though at first you feel hesitant to get closer to them, you soon forget about your doubts and just enjoy your time with them.
Your little girls night goes so well that they invite you out for dinner on Wednesday with Mitch joining the little trio. You learn that he is a quiet but hilarious guy, he and Sarah make a great couple, you think.
“We have a gig this Saturday at Green Light, want to come?” Charlotte asks at the end of the dinner.
“Okay, I really don’t think Harry would be a fan of that idea,” you point out, feeling like it’s surely over the lines. He still doesn’t know about you meeting some of his friends without him and you’re not sure how he would react if he did.
“Harry can fuck off, not everything is about him. We are inviting you as our friends, he just happens to be in the band as well,” Sarah rolls her eyes, clearly not as bothered by the situation as you are.
“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”
“He is a big boy, he’ll get himself over it, don’t worry. So, are you coming?”
“I guess, alright,” you nod with a soft chuckle.
Next week you contemplate telling Harry that Sarah invited you out for their gig, but at last you decide against it, something is telling you he would try to talk you down and now you’re pretty hyped to see them perform. So you keep quiet and just brace yourself for the worst when Saturday comes.
You don’t overdress for the occasion, decide to wear some light washed mom jeans and a simple sweater tucked into it, a casual look for a night out.
Even when you’re on your way to the place you are having second guesses whether it’s a good idea or not, but you tell yourself it’s not that big of a deal and if Harry flips, you’ll just tell him you came for Sarah and Charlotte.
As you get off the bus and walk towards the place, you immediately spot the little group of three next to Harry’s minivan, Sarah waving in your way as you become visible in the streetlights.
“There she is!” she beams happily and you just chuckle at her.
Harry is standing with his back facing your way but seeing Sarah’s reaction he turns around and you swear for a moment you think he is about to faint when he spots you.
“Hey everyone,” you smile as Sarah pulls you into a hug and Charlotte does the same.
“Hey, if it isn’t our little trouble seeker!” Adam teases you and you just roll your eyes at him before shyly glancing at Harry who is standing on your left, awfully quiet and deep in his thoughts since your arrival. He feels your eyes on him and his gaze meets yours and just by one look you can tell he is pissed.
Just as you thought.
The group chats a little longer outside before Adam suggests they head inside and get ready for their start and you are just about to follow them, but Harry keeps you back.
“Y/N, can we have a word?”
Staying back you nod, hiding your hands in your coat’s pockets as you look at him, lips curled into your mouth.
“What are you doing here?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together and he looks so damn intimidating, the neon lights from the front of the building tinting part of his face green, but you think red would suit him better with this look.
“I… came to see the band playing, what do you mean?”
“Is this your sneaky way of trying to come after me? Because I thought we had a very clear discussion about my thoughts regarding situations like this and you seemed to understand it.”
He comes off way angrier than you think he should be. Yes, it might be uncomfortable for him to see you here, but the tone he just hit is way too harsh for your liking and professor or not, you are not letting anyone talk to you like that when it’s completely not relevant.
“Okay, calm down. First of all, I was invited here.”
“By who?” he spats.
“Sarah and Charlotte, we met last weekend and had dinner this week as well. Had a great time and they asked me to come tonight as well, so get off of your high horse, I’m not here for you.” You can see the change on his face as the information sinks in and he realizes he accused you wrongly, but you’re not quite done with him. “But if I was here to see you, why does that bother you so much? You can’t avoid meeting students every minute when you’re off-campus. If I came here because of you, it shouldn’t affect you this much if you weren’t worried about something else than me just being here,” you point out and he furrows his eyebrows at you. “If I didn’t know better I would think you’re afraid to be around me because you actually like me, huh!” you tell him with an innocent yet suggesting look. His eyes widen and the confidence in himself quickly vanishes from him, replaced by anxiety and nervous looks as he realizes the meaning behind your words.
“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“
“Take a breath before you pass out, Harry,” you sigh, dropping the hard act. “I didn’t come here for you and if you want to know I actually thought a lot about canceling because of you. But I genuinely like spending time with Sarah and Charlotte so I’m here as their friend.”
Harry stares back at you, completely defeated, regret filling his green eyes. You feel a little guilty for snapping so hard at him, after all you do understand his point of view, but you genuinely don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it to be.
“I-I’m…”
“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just… move past it, alright?” you suggest and he nods as the two of you head inside, joining the rest of the group.
You stay behind while they are waiting for their time to perform, keeping some distance from Harry so he can’t accuse you again, but you occasionally look his way, catching him already looking at you, but you just can’t tell what could be possibly going on in his head. When it’s time for them to go on stage, you go out to the actual bar area and sit by the counter, not too much at the front but close enough to see everything that happens on the stage.
When they start playing you can’t take your eyes off Harry. His energy behind the microphone just knocks you off the stool and you watch him completely mesmerized as if he has put a spell on you. It feels like he turns into an entirely different person on stage, nothing like the man you see at lectures every Monday and Wednesday. He sings perfectly on key, putting some extra charm into the songs with his little additional tunes whenever he is not singing a line.
But what makes it absolutely impossible to look away from him is because he keeps staring at you, eyes locking with yours for way too long every time he catches your gaze. You try to ignore it, but it’s quite hard when his eyes are basically burning into you, it leaves you breathless.
Once the concert is over you order yourself two tequila shots quickly, because something is telling you that you’ll need the boosting if you want to face Harry after his little performance.
But for your surprise, when you join the band again and get near him, nothing really happens. It seems like Harry has come to peace with your presence in his little group of friends and he actually treats you like you’re part of the circle.
The six of you occupy a table at the back of the bar to spend there the rest of the evening and it’s all good, it seems. A harmless night out with a bunch of friends, nothing extra. Harry actually strikes up conversations with you involved and you feel like you’ve overcome a banter finally.
“Do you need a ride home?” Harry asks at the end of the night when everyone is about to head home.
“Only if it’s fine by you.”
“Wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t,” he smiles shortly before the two of you say goodbye to the rest of the group and head to his van that was previously loaded with their stuff.
The ride back to your place is now much shorter, it takes less than ten minutes to arrive and you are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up.
“I want to apologize for the way I reacted to your arrival earlier tonight. It was… unnecessary.”
“It’s fine, I’m sorry for what I said after that too.”
“You shouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, staring down at his hands in his lap.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you shouldn’t be sorry for saying something that’s true.”
It feels like all air is knocked out of you as his words process and you stare at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows. When he finally looks up at you, he looks so lost and tortured, you feel the urge to hug him, but you stay still as he continues talking.
“I got mad because I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very… confusing for me. And this is why I’m gonna be very straightforward with you now. I can tell Sarah and Charlotte like you a lot and they are stubborn, they won’t see the situation from my point of view and I’m no one to tell you if you can hang out with us or not. But what I can most certainly tell you is that nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N. You are very much welcomed to spend more time with us, but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”
For a couple of moments you’re only able to stare back at him, blinking completely frozen at his sudden confession. You could tell tonight has been a turning point of some kind, but you were not expecting this speech from him at all and now you are at a complete loss of words. It takes some time before you actually find your voice.
“Okay,” is all you can breathe out, nothing more, but it’s pretty much all you have to tell him. You won’t go against his will and force him to do something he doesn’t want. He deserves the respect.
He nods shortly, seemingly still very torn about the situation and you figure it’s better if you just leave now.
“Thank you for the ride,” you quietly tell him opening the door. “Good night.”
“Good night, Y/N,” you hear him before you shut the door and walk into your building, feeling like you’ve been just hit by a pile of bricks.
Unlike the last time when Harry brought you home, Nat and Eden are not waiting for you in the living room. Nat is probably already asleep and Eden went out for a date earlier and she hasn’t been back. You don’t bother to turn the lights on as you walk inside, just kick your boots off and hang your coat before collapsing onto the couch, just staring into the darkness, Harry’s words repeating in your head again and again.
“… I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very confusing for me.”
“… nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N.”
“… but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”
Harry, your professor, The Harry Styles admitted that he likes you but also told you pretty forward that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you. It still feels like a fever dream and you’re not sure how you are feeling about it just yet. Hanging out with him was already quite overwhelming, but you were not expecting this confession from him at all.
What are you supposed to do with this information? If he is so set on not taking any further steps, why did he even share it with you? He could have just easily keep his thoughts and feelings to himself and get away with it without you ever figuring it out. It doesn’t make sense.
For the first time in your life, something Harry Styles said doesn’t make sense. That’s new.
Following Harry’s confession you truly have no idea what to do, so you just go with the flow. He seemingly stays the same when it comes to you, friendly, but still keeping his distance. Nothing changes in the lecture hall, he just occasionally asks if you’re alright and you are guessing he only wants to know if you are having any trouble with Victor, but you haven’t even heard from him since you’ve blocked his number and you hope it’s going to stay like that.
You meet up with him and the band a few times outside of school and it’s not necessarily awkward, but you can tell he is keeping his distance from you, he never sits next to you or has one-on-one conversations with you, only if it’s necessary. The only time he dares to be alone with you is when he sometimes offers you to drive you home. You usually say no at first, but he insists, so you end up sitting in silence in the car until you arrive home, say goodbye and end of story.
No one in school even suspects that you’ve made your way into Harry’s group of friends, only Nat and Eden knows about it but they swore to keep it a secret, but you didn’t tell them about Harry’s confession. Whatever it is that’s happening between you and Harry, you would never put him into a situation he is trying to avoid so badly. You sit in his classes like everyone else, but while all the other girls are drooling over him, trying to get just slightly closer to him in any way possible, you sit in silence and think about the precious times when you get to see him outside of school.
Even with him being so distant towards you, you can’t help but slowly start falling for him. He doesn’t have to talk to you or be direct to you, it’s enough that you see him as himself, you see him with his friends, how he acts whenever he is not teaching, standing on the podium. And he is an amazing person, there’s no doubt about that.
The semester is gradually moving forward, once you get back from fall break, you basically move into the library, studying for your exams and finishing up all your papers. December arrives pretty fast and before you realize, the whole town is decorated with lights and Christmas trees everywhere, the shops are trying to lure customers in with all the sales and the Christmas shopping officially starts.
One weekend, when there’s only two weeks left of school before everyone heads home for the holidays, you and Nat go for a shopping trip, trying to buy every gift in time so you don’t have to worry about that at least last minute.
Wandering around the mall you naturally take a trip to the bookstore, always ready to buy something new to read. Nat dives into the cooking books wanting to get one for her mother while you’re just aimlessly looking through the shelves. As your eyes are running through the titles in the psychology department, you stop at one particular book, pulling it off the shelf as you can’t help but smile to yourself.
The secrets of Classical Conditioning.
You flip through the pages and though it doesn’t seem to be a groundbreaking work, it’s just explaining Pavlov’s experiment and further uses of it, you still decide to buy it.
That evening you sit at your desk, the book open in front of you, a pen next to it as you try to think of something to write into it. At first you just wanted to give it to Harry as it is, but you figured it would be a nice gesture to write a few words into it he could always read when he opens the book. After some consideration, you finally grab the pen and start writing.
-
Dear Harry,
I will always think of you whenever I hear of Mr. Ivan Petrovics Pavlov or Classical Conditioning. Thank you for another amazing semester and I’m happy I got to see you without standing on a podium. You are an amazing man, never change.
Happy holidays,
Y/N
-
Last week of school, you go to the Wednesday lecture, the last one of the semester with the book sitting in your bag. All through the 90 minutes class as Harry is having an open discussion about the lecture with the students, you keep debating whether you should give him the book or not. When the lecture is over and Harry wishes everyone happy holidays, you grab it from your bag and holding it to your chest you wait until there’s only a few people in the room. Eden has already left to hand in a paper so you walk down the rows on your own, eyes on the man behind his desk who is now packing up his papers and notes, getting ready to leave.
“Harry?” you faintly speak his name, grabbing his attention as he looks up at you from behind the desk. You glance down at the book in your hands and before you could change your mind, you place it down in front of him. “This is… for you.”
His gaze wanders down to the book, then back at you as he stares at you in awe, obviously surprised by the gesture.
“What’s this for?”
“Christmas gift?” you answer unsurely with a nervous chuckle. “I just saw it at the store and… thought of you.”
“Y/N, I can’t—“
“Yes you can and you will,” you roll your eyes at him, tired of hearing all these negations from him. He can’t, he won’t, he shouldn’t… for once, he definitely will if it’s on you. “Take it as my payment for the book you gave me.”
His eyes soften at you before he looks down at the book again, reading the title before he chuckles to himself.
“Thank you, Y/N,” he then finally says, accepting that you won’t let him return the gift under any circumstances.
“Have a nice Christmas, Harry,” you smile at him shyly, hands holding onto the strap of your bag as you start walking away.
“You too,” he faintly says and turning around you start walking, but then he stops you. “Y/N, wait!”
You stop in your track and face him curiously. He seems hesitant, stepping away from the desk, walking closer to you but still keeping some distance between the two of you.
“Do you… have plans for New Year’s Eve?”
“I, uhh—No, not yet.”
“If you happen to be back in town by then… Sarah is having this little get together. I have a feeling she already invited you, but if you said no because of me, I want you to know that it’s fine by me. Would be nice if you could come.”
He is right, Sarah did invite you over, but you kindly declined thinking Harry wouldn’t appreciate if you spent it with them. You wanted to give him a breather, have a night with his friends without having to avoid you all the time, but it seems like the situation has changed for him.
“You don’t have to invite me just because I gave you a gift, Harry.”
“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head softly. “I can tell you are getting along well with Sarah and all the others. I want you to know that I would never stand in the way and you are very much welcomed at any and all events.”
He seems and sounds genuine, you don’t see any sign of him just saying it because Sarah asked him to or something. No, this definitely came from him.
“Okay, I’ll… think about it,” you tell him with a warm smile. “See you around,” you wave at him before walking out of the room.
You don’t get to see his reaction to the words you wrote into the book and for a while, you’re not even sure he saw it. Maybe he took it home and put it on his shelf without even having a look into it, but two days later, when you’re already packing, getting ready to go home for Christmas, you get a notification that at first confuses you.
Breakfast is now following you!
You open Instagram with furrowed eyebrows as you go to the profile that just followed you. It’s a small account and private, of course and you almost close it thinking it’s just someone random when you see that it’s followed by both Sarah and Charlotte.
Could this be Harry’s profile?
The username is colazione8, it doesn’t give away much but now that you are thinking about it, it’s perfect if he wanted to stay unnoticed by his students that surely can use Instagram way better than him.
You tap on the follow request button and anxiously wait for an approval, hoping that the person behind the account is still online. You wait and wait, slowly losing hope but then the notification finally arrives. Your request has been approved.
You tap on the profile vigorously and three pictures appear in front of you. One is a picture of some random building, the first ever posted is a plate of nicely served breakfast of some sort and then there’s one that features the person you were desperately hoping to see.
It’s a picture of Harry sitting at a big dining table, a glass of wine in front of him as he is squinting his eyes towards the camera. You zoom into the picture just to make sure it’s him, but his features are clearer than daylight, it really is Harry that just followed you.
You’re still stalking his very private and not too eventful profile when you get a message from him, making your heart skip a beat.
Harry: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for the gift, it’s really thoughtful. Read what you wrote in it… thank you, Y/N.
Y/N: I meant every word. Thank you for everything you did this semester!
It takes a few minutes for a response to arrive from him.
Harry: Are you already on your way home?
Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.
Harry: If I drop by your place in 20, can you come down for a sec?
Y/N: Sure!
Though your response seemed totally cool, you started panicking right away. What does this mean? Why is he coming here? Are you in trouble? You couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.
You quickly change out of your worn-out sweats and stained shirt, putting on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, not wanting to see him looking like a total wreck. You sit on your bed, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds to see if he has messaged you and those twenty minutes never seem to pass.
Then your phone finally chimes again.
Harry: I’m here.
Y/N: Be there in a sec.
You jump into a pair of trainers and grabbing your keys from the little sidetable you have in the hallway you storm out of the apartment, running down the stairs. As you walk out you stop in your track for a second, for some reason you were expecting the minivan, but this time, it’s a black Range Rover that’s parked in front of your building and Harry emerges from it the moment you step outside.
“Hey!” he smiles at you, shutting the door before he jogs around and you notice the little gift bag in his hands.
“Harry, is this what I think it is? Because you shouldn’t have, really,” you tell him right away as he stands in front of you, glancing down at the little bag in his hands.
“What? So you are allowed to give me a gift, but I’m not allowed to do the same?” he asks with a cheeky smile.
“But you already gave me one!”
“That wasn’t a real gift, so no,” he shakes his head, too stubborn to let it go. So instead, he nervously glances down at the little bag before handing it to you. “Here. Happy Christmas. But you can only open it when I’m gone, alright?”
“Why?”
“Just… please,” he breathes out and you not, keeping your curious hands to yourself.
“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”
“Sure. Um, have a great winter break and… I’ll see you around,” he smiles, walking around the car back to the side of the driving seat.
“You too, Harry. See you!”
You see him drive away as you walk back into the building, basically running up the stairs to your apartment, dying to see what’s in the little bag. Once you are locked in the safe haven of your room, you throw yourself to the bed and reach into the bag, finding a small box. One that’s usually used for jewelry. You pull it out with shaky fingers and take a deep breath before opening it.
Inside sits the cutest little silver ring you’ve literally ever seen. It’s thin and very detailed, tiny little strawberries lining next to each other and that’s the whole ring. Just the little strawberries, but it’s still the cutest you’ve ever seen. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your ring finger, holding up your hand you take a good look at how it sits on your finger. You’re in love with it.
Rolling to your back on the bed you stare up at the ceiling with a heavy heart aching for a man you know will never be yours, but you just can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants, right?
Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message
Y/N: Harry, thank you so much! It’s beautiful! But you shouldn’t have bought me anything!
Harry: I’m glad you like it :)
Y/N: I love it.
He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.
Christmas is always the same, especially because your family just never had those juicy dramas that could ruin any family events. Holidays have always been quiet and loving, pretty predictable. It’s good to be home again and spend quality time with your loved one, though your mind keeps wandering to a particular someone.
Sarah mentioned that Harry has traveled home to his mom and sister and from time to time you catch yourself thinking about what he could be possibly doing at the moment.
The only interaction between the two of you is when you post a photo with your sister and brother at Christmas dinner and he likes the photo, but nothing more. He doesn’t post or add to his story so you are left with your own elaborate fantasies of what he could possiblybe doing at home.
Sarah convinces you to spend the New Year’s Eve at hers and you are accepting the invitation a lot easier now that Harry has told you he is fine with you joining.
Just one day before the 31st you get back to your apartment and spend the second to last night of the year spiraling about the whole situation with Harry. Where are you two standing as of right now? Was his gift a gesture with a deeper meaning behind it?
You can’t step over the fact that you are not his student anymore. He has officially graded you and you’ve received your credits for his class, the ties are off, but he situation might still be risky and you doubt Harry is willing to change his mind about what he told you earlier. He made it clear that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, however you can’t help but feel a little hopeful that the new semester might bring a change into that.
After two hours spent in front of your closet and at least three mental breakdowns you finally decide to wear a black turtleneck dress which is just the perfect mixture of modest and sexy at the same time. You feel anxious to see Harry again, not sure how to act around him following your little gift exchange. There’s a chance he’ll just shut himself off once again and avoid you all night, you can’t tell.
Sarah’s place is already buzzing by the time you arrive, several guests are lounging in the living room and kitchen, some soft music is playing and it appears that everyone is enjoying the evening so far, judging from the laughter you hear from time to time.
“I’m so glad you came!” Sarah envelopes in a tight hug when you arrive.
“Thank you for inviting me. Here, brought some snacks,” you hand her the grocery bag you picked up on your way, not wanting to arrive empty-handed.
“Oh, you are an angel, some on in, make yourself home, take whatever you want to eat or drink!” she gestures around before bringing the bag into the kitchen.
The cozy home is already filled with a lot of people you don’t know, but you also spot Charlotte and Mitch right away so you take the safe spot in their little circle. You try your best to stay present in the conversation but you keep glancing around, looking for one particular person.
And then you finally see him. Harry emerges from the little hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom with Adam, seemingly deep in conversation as he nurses a beer in his hand. His checkered slacks and vintage printed t-shirt makes him appear so casual, if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t even guess that he is actually a professor.
Harry laughs at something Adam just told him and his eyes glide around the room until they find you standing near the kitchen. He stops in his track, gaze running down your figure before it returns to your eyes and he seems to be in awe, like he doesn’t entirely believe it’s you he is seeing even though he knew you’d be coming. There’s nothing you want more than to run across the room and throw yourself into his arms. You spent way too much time thinking about him during Christmas and seeing him in the flesh now is a mixture of feelings you can’t really describe just now.
Neither of you leaves the conversation you are in the middle, but you keep glancing towards each other. You’re nervously moving the strawberry ring around your finger, feeling his burning gaze on your figure all the time. You haven’t taken it down since he has given it to you, it partially made it harder for you to stop thinking about him, because the jewelry was quite a loud reminder every time you glanced down at your hands.
Two drinks later your sister calls you, as always she wants to say happy new year before the lines get hectic at midnight, so you move out to the small balcony facing the street as you talk to your sister. The spicy night air feels amazing on your heated up skin, the turtleneck dress was a good choice, but it’s definitely getting hotter with each drink, especially with Harry’s lingering eyes as well. When you end the call you decide to stay outside a little longer, take a few moments to yourself.
You jump a little when you hear the sliding door open and you’re surprised to see Harry walk out.
“Hey, thought you might need this,” he smiles softly, holding a blanket in his hands.
“Oh, thank you,” you mumble and let him wrap it around your shoulders. It provides just enough heat that your lips are not shaking anymore from the cold.
“What are you doing out here alone? Not enjoying the evening?”
“I am, I was just on the phone with my sister.”
“She’s older than you, right?” he asks and you tilt your head a little looking at him.
“How do you know that?”
“I, uhh… You have a lot of pictures with her on your Instagram,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.
“Have you been stalking my profile?” you tease him, but he clearly takes it way more serious than you intended it to be.
“No, I swear it’s not like that, I just—“ he stammers but you cut him off placing a hand on his arms that are crossed over his chest.
“Harry, I was just teasing you. It’s fine,” you assure him, giving him a gentle squeeze before you are about to pull your hand back, but his hold stops you. He takes your hand in his, gently bringing it closer to his face as he examines the ring sitting on your finger.
“You’re wearing it,” he breathes out, a small cloud emitting from his pink lips as his thumb softly runs over the ring.
“Of course. I told you I love it.”
You can’t ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm palm against yours, his thumb delicately running over not just the ring, but down your finger as well before he lets go of your hand. You already miss his touch.
“So, how was Christmas?” he asks clearing his throat.
“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”
“Same, went home to the family.”
“Do you often visit them?”
“Not as often as I would want to, but I’m trying to go every couple of months.” Harry turns towards the street, eyes running along the not too busy road that stretches past Sarah’s building. His hand comes up to the railing, fingers slightly drumming on it. “How come you didn’t bring anyone tonight?”
“Well, my roommates are still home and I also didn’t think you’d like the idea to have another student of yours around.”
“Right, yeah,” he nods, but you can tell something else is still on his mind. “So… no boyfriend to bring?”
You give him a puzzled look. Is this his way of asking if you are seeing anyone at the moment? Because if it is, it’s kind of ridiculous.
“No, not really. I guess you can say I’m not looking for one actively.”
“How come?” he asks with raised eyebrows, his body turning towards you as he leans against the railing. You give him a ‘really?’ look. You think about getting a little sassy and teasing with him, but then decide to just be straightforward instead.
“Because I’m kind of into my Methodology of Cultural Anthropology professor.”
Harry’s lips part as his eyes pierce into yours and for a moment you really think that he is about to flip, tell me how dare you say such thing to him and curse you out, but a second passes and his gaze softens as he lets out a shaky breath.
“Y/N…”
“What? I just answered your question,” you innocently shrug, looking away from him. Despite this long and weird game the two of have been playing these past months, this is the first time you openly admitted that you have a thing for him.
“You know how complicated it is and I told you that nothing can happen.” He shakes his head in defeat, a hint of disappointment in his tone, but it just grinds your gears.
“What, so you can ask about my dating life but I can’t say that I’m into you? How is that fair?”
“That’s not the same.”
“Well I think it is. Both are highly inappropriate to bring up in our situation, don’t you think? Yet you’re trying to put all the blame on me.”
“Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just… forget about it. I really don’t want to fight with you.”
“Because you’re afraid I might actually win?” you sassily reply, crossing your arms on your chest.
“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? Would you… let me?”
“If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m trying really hard to stay in my lane, but you’re not making it any easier.”
“I’m trying too, okay?” he growls, clearly losing his calmness at this point. “I’m really fucking trying, Y/N, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”
“You’re the one making it hard!”
“It’s not my fucking fault I can’t stop thinking about you!”
“Well it’s not my fault either!” you snap at him, both of you raising your voice, the rest of the party oblivious about the screaming match the two of you are having on the balcony. “If you’re so set on not letting anything happen, why do you come to me and act the opposite?”
“The opposite?!”
“Yes! It’s not quite appropriate to gift your student with a ring or ask them about their dating life. Or is it all new information to you?”
“You started with the gifting!”
“So what? You could have just left it there, but you didn’t. It’s not that it didn’t make me happy, but don’t try to put all the blame on me for saying something when you’re already crossing the lines.”
Harry stares at you with a hard look and you’d pay great amounts to actually read his thoughts at this moment. His jaw clenches as he exhales sharply, eyes turning away from you, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you.
“Make up your fucking mind,” you growl under your breath as you push your way past him and walk inside before he could get a word out.
For a well-respected, educated and smart man, Harry can act pretty fucking stupid, you think. He is not being fair and you will not apologize for anything you’ve said. If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, he needs to stay in his lane and not dance on the line, poking the sleeping lion. He doesn’t get to fuck around and then put all the blame on you, that’s just not how it works and he needs to learn that.
In the last hour that’s left until midnight you mingle with the guests and try to keep your thoughts of Harry at bay, though it’s quite the challenge since he lingers around you, keeping his eyes on you all the time, as if he is trying to piss you off or something, but you’re determined to be a mature adult and keep your composure.
You’re getting tired of this game and you’re not sure anymore if you are willing to wait around until Harry makes his mind up. Not when he doesn’t keep his own rules at least.
“Come on,” you mumble to yourself as you’re trying to open up a new bottle of wine, but the screw just wouldn’t move, no matter what you do. A hand reaches forward and wraps around the neck of the bottle, interrupting your pathetic misery.
“Let me help you.”
You let Harry take the bottle, biting into your bottom lip as you turn around and watch him easily open the bottle you’ve been fighting with the past ten minutes, he grabs your empty glass from the counter and fills it.
“Thank you,” you mumble when he hands it back and you take a sip right away. He places the bottle to the counter, fingers strumming on the surface before he takes a deep breath and speaks up.
“Y/N, I’m sorry.”
“For what exactly?”
“For the way I acted. You were totally right, I called you out for things that I did myself too, that was unfair of me.” He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his back side as he crosses his arms on his chest. It brings out how toned his arms really are and you give yourself half a second to drool over that before you take another sip from your drink, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts under control.
“Thanks for acknowledging it,” you mumble, not sure what to say exactly. The two of you stand like that in silence, eyes roaming the guests, something clearly weighing down on both of you, but it’s hard to name and address it.
You can tell he is overthinking, the gears are almost visible, turning in that smart head of his, but you don’t want him to go into depths he shouldn’t. He really is making a bigger deal out of the situation that it already is, but it’s going to wreck him.
“Okay, I want to know, what was the worst way someone tried to flirt with you?”
Harry turns to you with a puzzled look, but you just sip on your wine, waiting for his answer.
“Um, I don’t… really keep track of it.”
“Oh come on,” you give him a look. “I know you have a story. I wanna hear it!”
Your eyes meet and he is searching in yours, trying to figure out what’s the sudden change in your mood when an hour ago you were ready to throw him off the balcony. Truth is you are just frustrated, because the situation feels so impossible. You never had to deal with such an amazing man, knowing he is into you as well, but you just can’t have him. The struggle is hard for the both of you but you can’t blame him entirely. Hating on him because he is not willing to take a risk that could easily ruin his entire life but at least his academic career is just not fair and you won’t put him through that.
Harry sees where you’re coming from and he shoots you a thankful smile before it turns into a smirk as he looks down at his hands.
“Professor Davids from the department of linguistics asked me to be her date for her ex-husband’s wedding.”
“What?” you gasp with wide eyes. “For real?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She started swinging by my office all the time, trying to chat me up and then one day she asked if I wanted to go with her, that we would be staying at this nice hotel and all… she really thought it was a good idea.”
“That’s very awkward,” you laugh, entertained by the thought that Professor Davids would go so low when it came to dating. “I assume, you declined the invitation.”
“Faster than ever,” he chuckles making you laugh even louder. “Okay, your turn.”
“What?”
“I told you an awkward story, now it’s your turn.”
“Um, the worst was probably a promposal I got.”
“A promposal?” he asks with a puzzled look, his forehead creasing as he pulls his eyebrows together.
“Yeah, when they ask you out to go to prom.”
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t know it had a specific name.”
“Because you are way too British,” you tease him and he just gives you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk hiding on his lips. “Well, anyway, I was dating a guy senior year, but this other one was convinced he could win me over and take me to prom. He brought a fucking mariachi band to school and gave me a serenade in the middle of the hallway while my boyfriend was standing next to me. He asked me to prom so confidently at the end of the song, like he actually had a shot but it was so painfully awkward,” you laugh at the memory shaking your head and Harry joins, finding it quite entertaining.
“He really did that to himself.”
“He did, I felt bad a little, but what was I supposed to do?”
You slip into telling more and more awkward stories, staying in the kitchen you create a little bubble, the rest of the guests don’t seem to exist as you enjoy yourself with Harry. This is the most carefree and loosest you’ve ever seen him around you and you quite like this version of him. So easy to talk to and even funnier than his usual self.
A little before midnight Sarah runs around with champagne, filling everyone’s glass, getting ready for the countdown. You and Harry join Charlotte, Adam and his wife in the corner of the living room as everyone is slowly getting excited for the last moments of the year.
Looking around you see a lot of couples, holding hands, hugging, clearly planning to snog the moment the clock hits midnight and when you glance at Harry on your right you’re convinced he is thinking about the same thing.
You’re not naïve, you don’t think he is going to kiss you, but you still allow yourself to play with the thought just a little. He is standing so close to you, just the tiniest move and you’d be touching him, skin to skin again, feel him under your—
The thought is abruptly interrupted when you feel his warm palm wrap around your hand, your whole body freezing and for a split second you think it’s just an accident, that his touch will disappear before you could even blink, but it stays there. Harry maneuvers his fingers until they are laced together with yours and he keeps a firm hold of your hand, hanging between the two of you, staying hidden because you’re standing close to each other. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re afraid if you dare to move he’ll let go of your hand.
Another version of yourself would laugh hysterically at how worked up you are right now just because he is holding your hand, but the you that’s actually in the moment is about to burst just by this small touch. You have absolutely no idea what it means or why he chose to do it, but you don’t really care about it. You just want to absorb all the heat you feel coming from him where his palm meets yours, fingers braided together tightly, as if he is trying to keep you next to him, like he thinks you are about to disappear and it’s way of anchoring you to him, but truth is you don’t want to go anywhere.
“One minute, everyone!” Sarah sings in excitement as she turns on the TV and puts a huge clock on the screen that’s counting the seconds as well. You shyly glance to the side, finding Harry standing motionless next to you and when he notices you looking, his eyes meet yours. He looks terrified, like a lost little boy and you can’t tell if he is afraid of your reaction or because of what his actions might bring on him. But you want him to know that you are completely okay with where it’s heading.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown begins and you inch closer to Harry so you’re pressed against his side, his body heat radiating into your skin even through the layers of clothes you two are wearing.
Harry leans down the moment you lift your head, his face is so close, it wouldn’t take much for you to finally kiss him, do the one thing you haven’t stopped thinking about for months.
“Y/N…” he breathes out and it’s a tortured plea, he is begging you to stop him from doing something he might regret, but you are dying for him to finally sin. You want him to give it up already, you have absolutely no desire to be the burden that keeps him in his lane. You need him to cross the line and stay there.
“I’m not stopping you, Harry,” you tell him quietly, the urge to close the distance between the two of you is burning inside you.
“Seven! Six! Five!” the countdown continues, but it all tones out, you can only see, hear and feel Harry.
“We can’t,” he whines, closing his eyes as he exhales shakily.
“We can, we just shouldn’t,” you correct him, his eyes snap open and meet yours again. You can tell he is so close to finally giving in and let his feelings and desires take control and you will not try to stop him.
His face inches the tiniest bit closer and his forehead is almost touching yours now, you can see every curly eyelash that frames his gorgeous green eyes that are now filled with fear and nerves.
“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone screams together as the clock finally hits midnight while you just stare at Harry holding your breath, praying that he is finally ballsy enough to take this step.
“Harry, please,” you beg, not too proud of it, but you just can’t take it any longer. His hand is gripping yours tightly as he closes his eyes again and for a second you think that it’s gonna happen. He is going to give up the act and finally kiss you.
But right when the moment is burning the most… he pulls back and your heart sinks.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand lets go of yours and it feels like your arm is ripped off, tears are welling in your eyes.
“Yeah, me too,” you mumble under your breath, chugging down the champagne before making your way through the living room, determined to leave as soon as possible.
“Y/N, wait, where are you going?” you hear him calling after you, but you don’t stop. You get rid of the empty champagne glass and grab your coat from the rack, storming out of the apartment as if you had somewhere to be.
Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you run down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. You hear the other pair of feet running behind you and Harry calling after you, but it’s not stopping you.
You push the front door of the building open, but it’s heavy, so it slows you down just enough that Harry can grab your wrist when you are about to start running down the street.
“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”
“No!” you snap at him. “I don’t fucking want to hear your explanation! I’m done, Harry! I’m fucking done! I was trying to be patient and respectful, I didn’t want to make it worse for you and let you do your thing, but you kept dancing back and forth and I can’t keep doing this, so I guess I’m sorry too.”
You’re choking on your own words that echo from the walls, the street is almost entirely empty, the world is still celebrating the new year while you’re at your breaking point. Harry stands in front of you, defeated and panic all over his face as he listens to you.
“I will not sit around and let you play your little games any longer, because you can’t make up your mind whether you want me or not.”
“Y/N I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” he snaps, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s the problem! This shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you!”
“Then do something about it!” you beg through your tears.
“I can’t!”
“Yes you can!” you scream at him. “You can but you probably just don’t want me enough to actually do it! And it’s fine, but—“
You don’t get to finish your rant because Harry firmly grabs your arm, yanks you towards him and with one swift movement, his lips are crashing against yours.
It all happens so fast but your body reacts before your mind could process what’s really happening, fists bunching a handful of his sweater as you pull him against you, his hands flying up to your face, cupping them confidently as he kisses you hard and demandingly.
It’s like a fucking dam that’s been broken, everything you both kept bottled up and under control just breaks loose and it’s a kind of a wild fight for trying to devour each other now that all lines has been crossed an blurred into nothingness.
He is the dominant one, but you do some pushing and pulling on your own as well. You’re forced to take a few steps backwards, back arching at how forcefully he is pushing forward, lips smacking against each other over and over again, his tongue meeting yours, swirling and dancing around with yours, a shameless moan escaping your mouth.
His hands roam down your sides and you jumps when they reach the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around his waist. He keeps you up easily, fingers digging into your flesh where your butt meets your thighs and this angle allows you to be completely pressed up against him and feel every single inch of his body that burns for you.
It’s beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, you’re not sure it’s because of the build-up that led to this point or simply the chemistry you two got, but it blows your mind, making you question how you could go this long without ever kissing him.
“Harry, I want you,” you moan when his lips move down to your jawline, kissing and biting on the soft skin, tasting you wherever he can reach.
“I want you too, Y/N,” he breathes out resting his forehead against yours before kissing you again.
“Take me home then.”
“Are you sure?” he pants as you run your fingers through his hair and tug on his gently, earning a whimper from his perfectly pink and swollen lips. You love this satisfied dew on his face, especially because you know it’s because of you.
“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”
You unwrap your legs from around his waist and return to the ground, but not without him leaning down to kiss you once more before he grabs your hand and starts pulling you down the street. You spot his Rover right away and start sprinting, Harry following you right behind with a carefree laugh.
Settled in your seats he starts driving, but you can’t keep yourself away from him. His hand that’s not on the steering wheel is gripping your thigh as you lean over the console and start kissing his cheek, jawline and the corner of his mouth as one of your hands runs down his chest until it reaches his pants.
“Love, if you move further down we’re gonna crash,” he warns you with a shaky breath. “I drank a little too and I’m already fucking gone from kissing you, if you touch me I’m gonna lose it.”
You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his lips before sitting back in your seat. You need every bit of your patience and self-control to stay modest on the way back to his place. Hands gripping his you bring it up to your lips, kissing his knuckles gently as he speeds down the empty streets. It’s still barely over midnight, everyone is still celebrating, oblivious to how important this moment is to the two of you.
You really thought this would be the end. When he pulled away at midnight all hope was lost for you and it broke your heart to know that he will never choose you over his better judgment.
It’s your first time at Harry’s but you don’t really care to look around as the two of you make your way inside the townhouse, lips already melted together as you stumble through the dark hallway, not wanting to let go of each other. You successfully make it into his bedroom and Harry turns on the bedside lamp while you’re already eagerly getting rid of your coat and shoes. He does the same, clothes start to litter the hardwood flooring hastily, but neither of you is thinking about them. Harry scoops you into his arms once again, kissing your lips passionately as he bunches your dress up at your hips until he can finally grip the end of it and pull it over your head.
“Oh shit!” you giggle, the turtleneck getting stuck on your head for a moment before you’re free from it.
“That big head of yours,” he chuckles kissing your forehead.
“Shut up,” you smack his chest gently, pushing him down to the bed so you can straddle him, knees on his sides as you sit on his lap, lips meeting again.
He throws his hands up when you start pulling his t-shirt up and once the fabric is off of his body, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. Your skin meets his and it feels heavenly, only little clothing separating the two of you at this point.
Harry scoots backwards and then throws you to the mattress, getting on top of you without your lips ever parting. His hips are pushed against yours and you can feel everything through the thin material of his slacks. Without even knowing you grind your hips, your core meeting his erection in the movement and he moans uncontrollably at the sensation.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips and you can’t push your smirk down at his reaction.
“Yeah, fuck me, Harry,” you tease him before your lips get occupied once again.
His hands work fast. He unclasps your bra without you even noticing, the straps falling from your shoulders before he gets rid of it, throwing it across the room as if it did something against him. When his hungry eyes fall down on your naked chest you see the same kind of torture in his eyes that was there when he was fighting with himself before.
“Harry, stop thinking,” you tell him, fingers massaging his scalp as you lace them through his hair. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions again and you pull him down for a reassuring kiss.
“One hundred percent. I want this. I want you.”
“Oh God, I want you so bad,” he whines again, lips kissing down your jawline, neck and collarbone before they attack your breasts.
He cups them, licks and bites them, making you a whimpering mess underneath him every time his tongue meets your hot skin. This man will be the death of you. As he moves down your body, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he glances up at your for reassurance once again, you nod eagerly, lifting your hips so he can easily glide the fabric down and off of your body. Harry sits up, eyes burning down on your naked body lying in front of him as he undoes his own pants, pushing them down his long legs until they join the rest on the floor. You push yourself up when his hands move to his boxers, you want to be the one to take them off. He gladly backs his hands off when you reach out and start tugging them down. He kneels on the bed as you pull the fabric down and his erection finally becomes free, making you ache for him immediately. Once the boxers are out of the way completely you want to reach out to touch him, but he stops you, hands wrapping around your wrist before they could reach him.
Your eyes snap up to meet his darkened gaze, questioning why he stopped you.
“Y/N, I… If we do this, there’s no going back,” he breathes out with a pained look. You push yourself up to your knees so you meet his height, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a sweet kiss that he hesitantly but returns.
“I know what you think about us, Harry, but I assure you, that I’m completely fine with it. But if you don’t want it to happen, we can just… lie here. I’m fine with that too. Kissing you was already such a gift for me,” you smile at him, gently pecking his lips.
“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret it. I’m not pushing you, right?”
“If anyone, it’s me pushing you,” you chuckle softly, a small smile tugging on his lips as well. “You didn’t push anything on me, alright? We are both adults and it’s completely fine. We’ll figure out the rest, I just want to focus on you now. Can I do that?”
Harry nods, still looking a little unsure, but you can tell he is starting to settle in his mindset. It’s not just him that worries about the other regretting something. You know how torn up he is about anything that’s about you and though you want him more than anything, you still don’t want to push him into doing something he is not entirely comfortable with.
“Do you want this?” you softly ask, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“I do. I’m just—“
“Then it’s all good, Harry. We both want it, nothing else matters for now,” you tell him, wanting nothing else than to finally see him enjoy himself entirely. “Lay down for me,” you tell him, feeling like you taking the lead is a good idea now.
He does as you asked him to, lying down on the mattress, head sinking into his pillow as he blinks up at you, watching you swing a leg over him before settling to sit on his thighs.
“Can I touch you?” you ask, wanting to make sure he feels completely comfortable with you. Pleasing him is your number one priority right now. He nods, lips parting as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around the base of his erected length. He whimpers under your touch, his eyes fall closed when you gently pump him a few times, his cock fits so well in your palms, like pieces of a puzzle.
Leaning down you kiss his fern tattoos on each sides of his hips before placing one to his leaking tip, sliding your hands to the base before you slowly and gradually take him into your mouth.
You’re not planning to make him cum with your mouth, but you’ve been dying to taste him and it’s just as good as you imagined. The way his body reacts to your touch, the noises that leave his kissable lips, this man is completely out of this world and you want to explore every inch of his body.
You bob your head a couple of times, just enough to wet his length and work him up for what’s coming next. When you let him go of your mouth and you move a little up on his body so that his cock can be lined up with your hole, you look at him to see if he is still down to continue. One hand holding his cock, the other one flat on his naked chest, you ask him a question with your eyes that he answers with his hands squeezing your hips.
“I have the implant. Do you want to put on a condom?” you ask him at last.
“I trust you,” he breathes out. “Do you want me to put one on?”
“I want to feel you,” you tell him shaking your head.
“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.
Leaning down you peck his lips one last time before you push the head inside and then slowly ease yourself down on his throbbing length.
“Oh fuck!”
“Harry, oh my God!” you both moan at the sensation of him finally entering you. You’ve had your fair share of sexual intercourses throughout your life, but none of them felt this good. None of them pleasured you this good so fast and easily, just the feel of him being inside you is making you lose your mind.
You start off slow, wanting to feel him just right, get used to his size, but as soon as you feel more comfortable, you pick up a faster pace. His fingers are digging into your flesh at your hips as he holds onto you for dear life, panting and moaning at your motions. He glides in and out of you perfectly, setting your senses on fire practically.
“Harry, you feel so good,” you gasp, getting lost in the feeling. Sex has always been a good experience for you, but with Harry it’s a whole different story. As if he just opened a completely new world you never even knew about before.
“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”
“Yes! Oh fuck!”
Harry pushes himself up, an arm coming around your back as he easily flips the two of you over, your back gently hitting the soft mattress. He holds himself up above you, lips crashing with yours as he starts to do the work this time, thrusting in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours forcefully as you both nearing the end.
“You’re making me lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” he cries out, head falling to the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him as a shield, holding him tight against you.
It doesn’t take long after that. He is hitting just the right spots, making you moan his name over and over again as your orgasm slowly devours you and washes over your whole body while he is still relentlessly moving.
“Harry! Oh… Fuck!” you gasp, legs and hands shaking and you clench your muscles around him, throwing him over the edge with you. He falls out of his rhythm, his cock twitching inside you as he moans against the hot skin of your neck, coming undone in your arms.
Nothing has ever felt this intense and mind-blowing and you’re now sure you’re addicted to him, there’s no turning back, not that you want that.
He collapses on top of you, still inside you, his body weighing down on you heavily, but it feels just fine. You run your arms up and down his sides, kissing the side of his head as you are both trying to catch your breath. It takes a few minutes for him to come back to reality with you, he lifts his head and moves to the side so he is not crushing you anymore, but an arm remains thrown over your abdomen. His vibrant green eyes are shining like never before when they meet your tired gaze and cupping his face in your palm you pull him in for a slow kiss where you finally have the time to actually taste him without the rushing of your own needs and urges.
“How are you feeling?” you softly asking, knowing well how major this was for him. You wouldn’t want him to spiral and start to self-destruct because of what just happened.
“I’m feeling fine,” he murmurs lowly, his fingers dancing on your naked side. “Just still a little torn if I did the right thing.”
“You worry too much. We did nothing wrong.”
“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”
“Fuck everyone else,” you chuckle and a smile tugs on his lips as well. “I will not feel bad for having the best sex of my life with a hot as fuck man I’m really into,” you bluntly tell him, earning a smug grin.
“Best sex of your life, huh?”
“Not even ashamed to admit,” you nod into the pillow. “How… was it for you?” you shyly ask, afraid his answer might disappoint you. But Harry pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his chest, his lips capture yours, kissing you fiercely, making your heart skip a few beats for sure.
“Fucking amazing, baby. Probably the best I ever had too,” he admits, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you nuzzle against his chest once he has rolled to his back.
Silence comes over the two of you, you’re listening to his steady heartbeat, mindlessly drawing patterns over his chest. Lifting your head your eyes meet his and you can tell he has been thinking hard about what this all means for the future now.
“I’m in,” you simply tell him.
“Huh?”
“If you are thinking that I might not want to do this with you, that I just wanted a good fuck, that’s not what I think of this. If you want to give us a chance, I’m totally in.”
“You think we can make it work?” he quietly asks, his voice barely more than just a whisper.
“Of course,” you smile at him warmly. “You don’t?”
“I do, I’m just… there are so many things that can go wrong.”
“Then… we’ll make them right.”
Harry breathes out through his nose, clearly having a hard time to take it as easy as you do and you wish you could magically make all his doubts go away.
Sitting up you put your hands on each of his sides, looking down at him determined to bring out his confidence in the two of you.
“We just have to be patient and careful until I finish. Then we are basically free. That’s just one more semester. It could be way worse, we can make it work for a couple of months before we can finally do whatever we want. That doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Harry shakes his head, reaching up he tugs your hair behind your ear before running his fingers down the side of your face.
“So we are really doing this?” he breathes out, a small smile on his sweet, pink lips.
“Well, I’m surely not giving up on this, we came a long way to be here,” you chuckle. “Question is, are you gonna give up on us? On… me?”
“Hell no,” he chuckles softly as he shakes his head. You smile down at him and leaning down you peck his lips tenderly.
“Then… we really are doing this.”
SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊
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Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles au#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#professor!harry#professor!harry au#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles angst
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acquitted love || sjn & reader
title: acquitted love
pairing: johnny suh x reader
genre: fluff, angst, co-workers!au, lawyer!au, one-sided enemies to lovers
word count: 8.7k
warnings: some language/cursing, brief mentions of sex but there's no actual discussions or explicit conversations of the topic, but generally pg-13
prompt: you absolutely hate johnny suh. but when your boss pairs you two up together for one of the highest profile cases, you’re left working close with your enemy but he doesn’t seem to think that way of you.
a/n: tada!! i wrote this for the @/ficscafe fic exchange event!! so @urlocalnctstan , hope you enjoy this !! i tried to write it according to what you put as your preferences, but honestly T_T it was so hard bc i was just not getting any ideas!! hopefully this is something you’d like :D enjoy !!
“God, isn’t he just… so attractive?”
Along with a click on your tongue, you feign a hit in Hyeri’s direction, whose reflexes have gotten so much faster in the past couple years of knowing you and it shows when she cowers underneath your arm. She gifts you that not-so-apologetic smile, full of mischievousness because she knows no matter how annoying she can be, you’ll still love her nonetheless.
“Why do you keep talking about Johnny? You know he’s banned as a topic of our conversations.”
Hyeri rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her white frilled blouse. You know that she doesn’t actually inhabit any romantic feelings for Johnny, but she has a problem of thinking without the usage of her brain when she sees a hot guy.
Not that you think Johnny is hot.
No.
“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s at least an ounce of smokin’ hot.” She’s unraveled her arms by now, poking your shoulder incessantly to grasp onto your attention as you're tapping on the buttons of the copier machine. “I bet if you asked him out, he’d say yes.”
You briefly glare at Hyeri. “You realize that he and I don’t get along, right? He keeps finding stupid loopholes in the system to win his cases. He thinks with his heart, not his head, and sometimes, with whatever that thing was in his pants.” And, not to mention that he walks out the court with that big grin stretched from cheek to cheek, giving the ‘good news’ to your well-respected boss (who you desperately seek the approval of but that’s a different story for another time). And every single time, she gives him that nod of appreciation, that ‘nod of approval’ if you will, when it should be given to you and not to some asshole who fucks his way to victory.
“But he’s so hot—”
You narrow your eyes at your friend, and with a stern voice, you call out, “Hyeri.”
She shrugs. “Honestly, though, he’s hella smart. He’s got a job here, and works under your boss. It’s Park, Kim & Associates—notice how Park is first, because she’s a fucking genius. She only picks the intelligent ones to work under her. Why do you think I’m still working for Mr. Kim?”
Park Seohyun and Kim Gonghyun—one of the biggest lawyers in the region, decided to join together to build their own law firm from the ground up. They were both highly respected in their field; Kim Gonghyun spent years of his life being mentored by one of the most famous judges, and as for Park Seohyun, she was, simply put, admirable because of the obstacles she has overcome to make her dreams of working in law to be real. Being a woman, young, and beautiful, she’s had her fair share of encounters with people who disregard her potential, that is until she met Gonghyun—who, admittingly is an old man who seems like he’d be traditional, sexist, even, but he proves to also make people realize how wrong they are with their impression of him.
But, as Mr. Kim is getting older, he’s gotten a bit… lazy.
In fact, he’s been slacking so much that he’s gotten a new rep in the office—if he was your direct supervisor, or your supervisor was under him, you were on the side of the office where all the easier, uncomplicated cases were assigned. Which meant that there was a slight possibility that your talents and skills weren’t as sharp and exceptional as you thought they were.
And well, Hyeri works directly underneath Mr. Kim.
Hyeri doesn’t want a heavy workload, despite the fact that there’s a plethora of files on her desk, stacked up one onto another as tall as her PC tower, and they were all open and closed cases—needless to say that she didn’t mind it.
“Okay, but you got offered a position under Seohyun. Do you really think you’re not wasting your potential?”
Hyeri scoffs. “Never. At least, not now. I’m still in my twenties, I’d like to enjoy my youth while I can, for your information.”
You quirk a brow. “And does any of that pertain fucking Johnny? The hot guy, so you claim?”
She immediately has her hand covering your mouth and you scowl. “Shhhhh, he works here!”
You bite the flesh of her hand and Hyeri instantly retracts. “You think I don’t know my archenemy works here? He sits directly across from my office—I get the best view of the guy and I’m not even one of his fangirls.”
“You’re not gonna be one of those girls who claim they’re different because they don’t like him but then end up falling for him anyway… are you?”
Your hand goes up and Hyeri crouches down.
“Stop it.”
“Seriously though! It’s the classic e2l love story,” she has her hands gesturing in front of her like she’s making an imaginary rainbow, “Two lawyers, constantly butting heads, accept each other’s differences and learn to love—“
“The fuck is an ‘e2l’?”
“Enemies to lovers.”
“Are you high? Stop spitting nonsense.” This time, you’re waving the stack of papers that finish printing in front of her face. “Meet me for lunch later. But if you keep talking about my archenemy and I falling in love, you can kiss a free meal goodbye.”
Hyeri gasps.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Maybe. Just maybe, Hyeri might be a tiny smidge right when she says Johnny is handsome. Just a bit though, because she can’t get credit for something like that.
He’s dyed his hair this shade of brunette that sort of reminds you of roasted chestnuts on a cold, winter day, sitting inside of a cooker outside of your childhood home, baking along with some sweet potatoes your mom had gotten from a farmer’s market nearby. Johnny has this focused gaze attached to the screen of his monitor; there’s a dip in the fronts of his brows, lips tightened into a straight line, and constant switching back and forth from the computer while taking notes down in a book that’s laid open in front of him.
You wonder what’s running through his mind, or well, you’re more interested in what files he has sprawled out on top of his desk.
Truthfully, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, you weren’t quite a fan of Johnny Suh and it’s mostly due to his work ethic. He’d been notorious for his reputation of sleeping around—especially with the opposing side—so it’s hard to convince yourself that he didn’t win the case because of his actual capabilities, but it’s because he pulled some strings.
And Johnny doesn’t put much effort into denying it either.
Albeit deep down, you were a teeny bit envious of his confidence. He struts around the courtroom with ease, and when he presents his position, there’s no staggering in his voice—it’s always crisp and clean, weighted with nothing but credence, and never straying from his initial perspective. It’s never a lack of poise, it’s consistently the look he goes for; from the hand gestures and the furrowed brows, to the rhetorical questions in the end of certain statements that has the speculators and jury sitting at the edge of their seat, Johnny had a talent for performing in the courtroom, but that doesn’t mean anything when the way he gets to the success isn’t ethical.
Just at that moment, his eyes lift from the screen and meet yours.
There isn’t any hesitation when you scramble to grab the remote controller, and the shades drop over the windows instantaneously.
“Fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, tossing the remote onto your desk and shaking your hands after. What if he thought you were admiring him? Maybe he didn’t see. Yeah. It was for a brief second, and with how close your offices were to each other, it would be common to accidentally lock eyes… right?
Interrupting your thoughts, the office phone rings and it nearly startles the living soul out of you. But before you reach for it, your head tilts to the side curiously because the extension number is familiar—it’s Park Seohyun’s, your boss.
What could she be calling for?
You don’t remember fucking something up—but to be fair, half the times, you never really know if you’ve actually fucked up until someone with steaming ears and a crimson face comes storming in. So… did you do something good? Again, you don’t think that’s right either, because other people would’ve made comments about it.
Deciding to swallow your nerves, you pick up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey!” Seohyun never fails to be bubbly, and you could never mimic her energy. You definitely had to be born with that kind of enthusiasm. “I have a favor. Hop into my office.”
Leaned back in her leather swivel chair, she had her fingers laced with each other while resting over her stomach. Johnny stands beside you (and you do your best to not look directly at him, especially after that weird staring thing), and you both feel like kids being lectured by parents from how still you are. Her office is huge, probably the size of both yours and Johnny’s combined; with ceiling to floor windows, cases of books that line the perimeter, not to mention the humongous ass couch that practically covers the other half of the room, and her desk was so wide, you estimate about four monitors would fit on there with still additional space for work. That wasn’t even the best part—the view of the city looks almost like a generic lockscreen of a Windows computer, and you’re not even sure why she goes home at night when she basically has a penthouse here.
“As you know, I have a favor.”
“Right,” Johnny retorts, mostly as a filler in the awkward silence. “So… what’s the favor?”
She pulls a box from her purse; square, black and made from a leather material with a lock pad stitched into it, something you’ve never seen before, and she slides the passcode in, then it pops the lid open. A key (a… very small one) sits in the velvety cushion, with nothing else occupying the space with it, and it looks comical. She uses this to open the very top drawer of her desk, and as she pulls using the handle, there’s another box inside, but this time, metal instead of leather, but still black.
What the fuck?
It seems Johnny shares the same thoughts, because he sneaks a glance over at you.
“You see,” Seohyun begins, pressing on the digital keys of the box until there’s a beep at the end and the case hisses open. “There’s a lot of security for this. Which means you understand the importance of it.”
Then, she picks up four manila envelopes and lies on the surface of her wooden top desk. “I have a family emergency to attend to this upcoming week. I’m boarding a flight tonight. So I’m leaving the Hwang v. Yoon case to the two of you.”
“Fuck—”
“The what?”
You and Johnny are sputtering out of shock. The Hwang v. Yoon case is the biggest case that the firm is involved in currently, and the only people involved in it have been Seohyun and Gonghyun. It’s been on every social media platform you could think of; from Facebook to Twitter, TikTok to Instagram—there’s even this weird website for emo/grunge teens or strange kids that like writing fanfic called Tumblr, and whatever that is, it’s discussed on there too.
“What about Gonghyun?”
Seohyun scoffs, closing the drawer and dropping the key back into her special box. Where do you even get a box like that? “He can’t handle this alone. So I’m kicking him off until I come back. I thought about letting the two of you work with him, but his ego is so inflated, it’ll get in the way of our chances of winning. It’s easier if it was just me and him, but seeing that things at home aren’t well, I’m going to need you two to step up to the plate.”
The room goes quiet. The only sounds you hear are the muffled noises of a typical bustling office outside the thick walls of Seohyun’s office, and at first, excitement rushes through your blood because Seohyun thought of you taking over a special, high profile case.
Albeit, another realization gets soaked up, and it’s that Johnny also came to mind, and that because it’s such an important case, the two of you would be… working… many… hours… together.
Maybe you should back out of it—but then again, this is such a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Imagine winning this— it wouldn’t be good for just the law firm, it’d be good for you too. Your name, in articles on these big fancy news websites, perhaps even on new channels, talking about how you, this amazing lawyer, won the Hwang v. Yoon case.
But then you’re snapped back into reality when Johnny leans over to take the envelopes from Seohyun.
If your name is on those platforms, so is Johnny’s.
God, this guy just ruins everything, doesn’t he?
“We’ll take care of it, Seohyun. You can trust us,” he says assuringly, a smile tugging on each corner of his lips with that dazzling gaze. “We’ll be at our best.”
Kiss ass.
If you had the option, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday night here at work, in one of those conference rooms with a long table in the middle, a big projector that displays on the wall, and a random black leather loveseat couch that lines the one corner in case there’s too many occupants.
Especially since the person who’s accompanying you is Johnny Suh.
There’s probably a lot of people who would kill to be in your position (Hyeri being one of them), but you dread it. Not to be that person, but what’s so special about him anyway? What? He’s tall, has some muscles, long luscious hair that he can slick back with that sultry stare—wait, what?
“Alright, moving on…” From what? You guys just started? It’d been clear with Seohyun that the mornings would be dedicated to other cases, but nights would be considered overtime and where you’d zoom in your focus on Ms. Hwang’s justice. “Let’s take a look at the facts here.”
Johnny slips off his blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as you’re seated in another, leaning back comfortably with an arm resting on the table. He loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt before folding up the sleeves, and that’s when you notice a little thing in the inner crook of his elbow—is that a fucking sunflower? Is that what he uses to reel girls in? That he’s soft enough to have a pretty little flower etched onto his gentle, silky and supple—
“Okay,” he says, interjecting into your thoughts with a laser pointer in his hand. He taps on the space bar of his laptop that mirrors what’s on his screen, but then, that’s when you realize what’s on the slides.
There’s a collage of pictures, mostly street, casually walking themed ones, but the common factor was that they were of Yoon Changmin, the man you guys were up against. They were all paparazzi-like photos, which begs the question, how did he get pics like this, and why did he get them?
“What’s the point of this?” you ask, voice laced with nothing but suspicion.
“We gotta get into the mind of the enemy.” You wanna get into the mind of your enemy, too.
You gesture to the one image of Changmin with an arm around his girlfriend and a finger up his nose. “Seems like he’s trying to reach inside of his head instead of us. These are just everyday pictures, Johnny. What’s that going to do for us?”
“Well,” he begins, turning to look at the wall of ‘evidence’. “You see—wait, holy shit.”
Freezing in the midst of reaching for your coffee, your head jolts in the direction of your partner. “What? What is it?”
“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “Hoooooooooly shit. Why didn’t I see this before? This changes everything.”
Furrowing your brows, you’ve given up getting your drink and dropped your hands onto the table. “Tell me, what is it?”
“This is a game changer.”
“Johnny,” you call out sternly, and his eyes link with yours before he instantly points to a particular picture with his red laser pointer.
“Look at that.” There’s pride saturated in his words, but when you look at what he’s indicating, your body slouches in disappointment.
Why the hell was he directing your attention onto Changmin’s thighs? Surely, there’s no denying that they were attractive—you recall that his alibi was at the gym that very night of the crime.
“What? He’s guilty for showing off his toothpick legs?” They were lean, you never said they were muscular.
“No,” he retorts, slightly irritated by your response as he rolls his eyes. “Look at his pants.”
“Okay…”
“They’re jean shorts.”
There’s a pregnant pause, but the expression on your face is so loud it can’t be hidden.
Johnny continues, “That’s a fashion crime.” He says it as if it’s an obvious fact known by many. “Not to mention that it’s fucking raw hem. He should be arrested.”
Suddenly, your opinion of him thinking too much with his heart dissipates because it seems like he’s thinking out of his ass instead. Did he win those cases out of pity? How did this guy even pass the bar? How about law school? How the hell did he even get into law school?
“I don’t think—”
“Listen, alright, just hear me out,” he’s got the palms of his hands resting flat on the surface of the table, doing his best to gain your full undivided attention. “Only assholes wear jean shorts. They flaunt that shit around like they own the place, but they’re horrendous pieces of clothing that should not be on a male’s body. I don’t care what you say, what your opinion is, because that is a fact.”
Puffing your cheeks, you feel at a loss. If Johnny is who you had to get this done, it feels like you’re not going to be finding much evidence any time soon.
“Okay, if… if that’s how you want to play it, then show me the evidence—other than those 2012 cut off denim shorts.”
He reaches over to hit his space bar again, then with a wink and a slide change, he leans closer to you and says with that deep, honeyed voice, “Gladly.”
You hate admitting when you’re wrong.
Ironically, you concede and will confess when you actually are, but it doesn’t mean that you enjoy it. For example, when Hyeri claims that the intern Mark had a crush on you, you quickly waved her off, stating something along the lines of, “I’m too intimidating; there’s better chances of him being scared of me than ever finding me attractive.” And then a week later, you owed Hyeri free lunch at that hip ramen place downtown because Mark had approached your desk that very morning with a bouquet of red roses flowers for you, a cheeky grin glued to his face with pools of hearts in his eyes, and ready to ask you on a date because it was the day after his internship had ended. Naturally, it wasn’t fun rejecting that poor college boy.
But, you won’t say you find Johnny interesting or handsome. Or that there’s potential when it came to possibly (just barely the slightest smidge) that you’d ever consider asking Johnny out. He’s your enemy here, you’ve mentioned that a multitude of times, and you stand firm on that very declaration, despite the fact that sometimes when he gets too close, your breath gets caught in your throat and you feel like you can’t get whatever’s lodged in out.
Albeit it’s not the whole “you guys are gonna end up together” comment that Hyeri makes and resulting in you denying it afterwards, it’s that Johnny might… be a decent lawyer.
He’s not the best one you’ve seen; the stupid revelation he had on the first day working on the case about the jean shorts is evidence for it, but it’s the days following that were slowly changing your perspective on him.
When you said, “He thinks too much with his heart more than with his head,” it was 100% correct.
When meeting with potential witnesses, you recognized that Johnny empathizes with people often; when they cry and start panicking from being overwhelmed, he's quick on his feet to put an arm around them, share reassuring words, and have them back to normal in record’s time.
And, well… you? You’re the one making them cry in the first place.
You don’t want to fully take the blame for being the cause of their tears, but people need to hear what’s happening, and the very detail that they can’t even handle this information probably means they’re not worthwhile as a key witness.
Johnny, of course, thinks otherwise.
He believes that these people should have a voice (although you’ve alluded that they might be more useless than helpful), and putting them on the stand with Yoon Changmin there would change the view of the jury to supporting Hwang Naeri.
“Listen, if we get these people to sign the form, we’d get witnesses and it’ll help Naeri,” Johnny claims, frantically moving his arms annoyingly as he talks, trying his best to express the gravity of the situation, “and maybe, maybe, money wouldn’t be how Changmin wins, but how he loses. We can’t have another person with jean shorts walking on the streets of our city like this—they deserve to go to prison.”
You scrunch up your nose. “Why does this always revert back to the jean shorts?”
“It always has to do with jean shorts,” he snaps back matter-of-factly. “Any straight guy wearing jean shorts with that much goddamn confidence has done some wrong in their lives.”
“Right, but I’m pretty sure that the crimes he did are mainly the reason why he’s being prosecuted against.”
“Jean shorts are the windows to the soul.”
“I’m almost 100% sure that eyes are the windows to the soul, but whatever. If you genuinely believe that the women we met today would benefit our case, then… okay. Let’s bring them to the stand.”
On the contrary to you, Johnny doesn’t have a hard time convincing witnesses to testify. You see the way that he works; those kind eyes directed at the participants, the pools of chocolate were sweet, saturated in nothing but tenderness and warmth, then he does that weird thing where he reaches for their hands and cups them before the words that escapes from his lips are enough to swoon them to stand in front of a courtroom.
Maybe, just maybe, there’s a method to his so-called madness.
Aggression and bluntness don’t work, it seems, because when you’re the one attempting to convince these people to go against the man that had done them wrong, they’re less willing to do it. Something about ‘moving on,’ and ‘not wanting to relive those memories again,’ but if it was you, you’d want justice. Then again, not everyone is like you, and not everyone thinks like you, and spending this abundance of time with Johnny is slowly getting you to ease into that perspective.
So… the initial impression you had of him may have been wrong.
And maybe, just maybe, you’re developing some feelings for him, just as Hyeri predicted.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
His abrupt personal question is enough to have the coffee spill into your mouth to slide down the ‘wrong throat’ because you’re choking, hand on your chest as you’re tackling to regain your breath again and Johnny only stares in disbelief, blinking blankly. “Are… are you okay?”
You glare at him through a hooded gaze. “Well,” you clear your throat once more. “Now, I am.”
“Cool.” He nods, retracting his hand so he could rub your back soothingly, deciding it’s best to stay away. “Are you going to answer my question?”
Quirking a brow, your head tilts slightly in puzzlement. “Why are you asking this?”
Johnny shrugs. “Isn’t it weird that we’ve hung out with each other for a whole week—stayed here for nights and we both don’t know anything about each other?”
Tapping your fingers against the wooden top table, you sigh. Maybe he’s got a point; after all, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” right?
“No, I’m single.”
Johnny’s face suddenly brightens, ears perked, and his body straightens its posture in his seat at this revelation. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know that. You seemed busy in your personal life, so I, uh… was just wondering.” He looked anxious, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “I, um, I’m single too, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” You weren’t.
The plethora of cardboard and plastic boxes scattered across the table was a representation of the night. It’s been long, exhausting, and messy, mostly because it’s a Friday night, the hearing was on Monday, and the two of you were nowhere near close to having enough to present to the court. In fear of disappointing Seohyun, the two of you agreed to stay over the office for the weekend to cram work for the case. There’s no denying that the atmosphere is weirder on the weekends, especially since, well, no one really comes here on the weekends. Johnny had to use the bathroom earlier and ran into the cleaning lady and she nearly shit her pants because she didn’t think anyone was here, so she had music blasting in her headphones.
Johnny is… interesting. He makes you laugh—or well, want to laugh, but you don’t give him that sense of satisfaction—and he’s smart but in his own weird way. He’s not like the other lawyers you’ve met, or any of the law students you attended University with because he’s more lighthearted and free-spirited than the rest, taking life in strides instead of just overwhelming himself in the abundance of stress that work brings.
He’s entirely the opposite of you.
And maybe you could learn something from the guy, but there’s something in you that brews hatred toward him. Possibility that you resent how easy he makes being a lawyer seem when you’re struggling in your day-to-day life to make things work.
But it’s way too fucking hard when he’s just… like that.
Despite all of that, he’s very generous and kind toward you. On rough days, he delivers your coffee order, the one you always get because he remembers what you asked the intern to get for you the last time, and he’s good at identifying when you’re just having that kind of day. You eventually learn he has a photographic memory (fucking show off), so when he saw that crumpled napkin with scribbles of what you want in that dumb intern’s hand, it wasn’t hard to remember. Which, by the way, is how he’s able to get into the most prestigious school for undergrad, manage to pass the bar so easily, and get into law school effortlessly.
And knowing this information sort of angers you more.
You know this isn’t his fault—he’s been blessed with a trait that people desire, one that you also yearn for, but the lucky ones get handed a lot of things in life. You wonder if he’s the type of guy who wins girls easily after matching with them on dating sites because of this stupid ass ‘photographic memory.’ Does he sleep with them right after? Does it ever get serious?
You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You shouldn’t even let these strange thoughts haunt you, especially when you don’t even like him.
He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.
So you’re left counting the remaining days until the trial so you don’t ever have to work with Johnny Suh this closely again.
Okay, well, it’s evident that bad luck is glued to your side because after you win the Hwang v. Yoon case for your law firm with that asshole, Seohyun is so impressed. So goddamn impressed that she insists that all the high profile cases are to be given to both you and Johnny.
To work as a team.
Together.
Jesus, this is Hell for you.
Surely, the promotion and raise that came along with it was definitely a plus, but it has you wondering if it’s even worth it. He’s been your unspoken enemy since the first day, and although you think you’re pretty forthright about your hatred for this guy, he can’t seem to read social cues.
When you’re pushing the double doors into the conference room the two of you often spend working on cases in, you expect Johnny to be ready for another day. But strangely enough, Johnny doesn’t have his laptop out or any of the notebooks sprawled across the table.
“Um,” you slide the strap of your bag off your shoulder and onto the spare chair. “Did you come late or something?”
He takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding back something. “We need to talk.”
There’s worry inscribed into his features; from the crease in between his brows, to his pursed lips, and eyes soaked in concern, almost like he’s got bad news to share and it has your stomach in knots. Was it that the case was thrown out? It couldn’t be, right? You both worked hard, presented your stance to the point that the jury and the judge were in awe with your findings. Sure, you had to cover Johnny’s mouth right before he was about to go off in a tangent about jean shorts, but overall, it was a good win, a hard one to go back on and pull out the wrongs of it. So what was it?
“I’m quitting our partnership.”
You blink. “What?”
He gestures to the room with his hands as if there’s anything out to reference. “This thing. Our work. The big profile cases. The famous stuff. I told Seohyun that I won’t be doing it anymore and she can revoke the promotion and the raise.”
You’re still not catching on. “… Why?” Was it something you did? Yeah, you weren’t a big fan of Johnny either, but were you so bad that he decided to not go through with the raise because of you?
“Because,” he pushes his blazer back, hands sliding into the front pockets of his navy blue trousers. “There’s a policy put into place. Those who are on the same cases cannot have any personal relations with each other that extend past friendships.”
“We’re not even friends?” With confusion written across your face, your head tilts to the side. “I’m not… I’m not catching on here.”
“I like you.”
Startled, the words you want to say are stolen out of your mouth. You’re left with a mixture of perturbation and bewilderment, uncertain where to go from there because Johnny asked for the removal of both a promotion and additional money that could be so good for his career… and it’s all because he has a crush on you?
“You quit the best thing that could’ve happened to you because you like me?”
“Yeah,” Johnny states calmly, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment. “Ain’t that romantic?”
You scoff. “No. Absolutely not. You’re insane! Why would you do yourself dirty like that? Use your head, Johnny, you’re constantly thinking with that stupid heart of yours, and hate to break it to you, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Combing your hair with your fingers, you let out a sigh. “Go ask Seohyun for the position back. Say you made a mistake and—”
“I’m not asking her for the position back.”
Johnny doesn’t make any sense to you. “What? Why wouldn’t you do that?
“Because,” he laughs in disbelief, not because he thinks you’re funny. “I’m not going to force myself to work with a girl that I keep falling for. That’s self-inflicting, you realize that, right? You’re amazing, but you can seriously be so dense sometimes.”
“I’m dense? You just told one of the best law firms in the city that you don’t want to work on the important cases anymore because you have a stupid crush on your partner!”
“If we were on a team with more people, maybe it’d be different. But it’s just us two. You think I won’t fall any harder? That’s not easy. Every time I see you working, I swear I could be hopelessly in love with you one day.”
Your heart stops for a second.
This is Johnny Suh you were talking about here. One of the claimed best lawyers in your office, one of the most intelligent people that Hyeri has ever met, and Seohyun evidently backs this up because she’s given him so much recognition for his work. He’s the guy who worked with you to win the Hwang v. Yoon case, he’s the one who brought up the stupid jean shorts that seemed so far-fetched at the time, but they were a crucial detail everyone missed—it so happened that when Changmin bought those dumb shorts, there was evidence of at least one of his crimes in that store from the security cameras.
Any cis-gendered male who wears jean shorts can’t be trusted, according to Johnny.
And candidly speaking? You couldn’t even deny that. Your past two ex-boyfriends both wore jean shorts and the one cheated on you and the other one was caught money laundering.
“Listen,” he begins, interrupting your foggy thoughts. “I’m not asking you to tell me you like me back. I’m telling you because you should know, and that I can’t go on any further without letting you know. I’ll, uh, be in my office. Seohyun said she’d find a replacement for me.”
Hyeri is his replacement.
She’s great company and does a good job of helping you with whatever you need, but that was just it. Hyeri followed you, she never led with you, just as Johnny does. Agreeing with everything you say, mindlessly trailing behind everything you do—Hyeri was smart, but she couldn’t figure out how to think for herself when it came to these bigger cases because she’s never been given such a responsibility. But you couldn’t even blame her because it’s what she was told to do under Gonghyun.
“You said that you think Maeri snatched the bracelet?”
“No, I said if you watched the security video that the jewelry store submitted, it clearly shows that Maeri snatched the bracelet. Not that I ‘think.’ The proof is right there, Hyeri.”
She nods, resuming back to her work on the computer. Truthfully, Hyeri felt more like an assistant than a co-worker, someone to bounce ideas off of and to see from a different perspective. And as much as you hated Johnny, he had decent points. He had ways of making you put yourself into the shoes of people you never thought you were; although the guy was obnoxious, at least he actually was… good at his job.
Deciding you can’t take it anymore when Hyeri asks for the tenth time that hour about your beliefs rather than her own, you abruptly stand from your seat.
“Where are you going?”
“Out,” you reply shortly. “I’ll be back.”
It was just a spontaneous thought. It’s after hours, and although there are some people who stay behind to get some work done, you had your doubts that Johnny would still be here. He seems to have a better grip on that work/life balance thing people talked about (unlike yourself), but it didn’t hurt to check his office, right?
It’s a good thing you went with it. Because right across from yours, there’s Johnny.
There’s one single lamp that shines over the tabletop of his desk, and the other sources of light in his office are from his computer screen and the ones from the city skyline from behind him. It has him seemingly angelic like this, so serene, calm, and collected, only focused on what’s laid out in front of him. The sun has gone down, people have gone home, but Johnny remains, hardworking as always, despite your previous observations that he’s a lazy, unprofessional guy who gets everything handed down to him.
With a knock on his glass door, he flinches, head raising up and eyes meeting yours.
Were his eyes always this sparkly?
Opening the door, Johnny drops the pen in his hand and crosses his arms before leaning back in his seat. “What’s up?”
“You’re here late,” you state the obvious, and Johnny only nods in return, without a rebuttal in sight. “You aren’t normally here late. At least, before the Hwang v. Yoon case.”
“Yeah, you’re right. But Seohyun dropped something on my desk this morning. Wanted to work on it. What brings you here?”
Inhaling in a deep breath of courage, your hands bundle up into a fist by your side. “Please come back.”
Johnny raises a brow. “What?”
“Come back,” you reiterate, this time, it’s less tense and releases with ease. Caving in isn’t usually this effortless to you, but something about Johnny makes you feel… comfortable enough.“Come back and work with me again. Yes, I’m not supportive of how you do things—”
“Then let’s go out on a date.”
You freeze. Legs rooted into the floors of Johnny’s office, you’re left immobile and diffident on how to react next. It wasn’t what you were expecting, although you weren’t quite sure what you were hoping to anticipate, but it most definitely was not this.
“I—”
“I said my terms,” he retorts, shutting the book in front of him before shuffling up from his seat. He’s leaving, you realize, and Johnny’s ready to head home for the night and you’re not sure if you could handle an entire weekend with Hyeri here. “And, I meant what I said. One date, and if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay on the case.”
Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, the next words that come out are out of character for you. “And… what if it does?”
A soft smile tugs from each corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll figure it out from there. Promise.”
This is… awkward. It shouldn’t be, but yet somehow, it remains awkward.
You’ve spent weeks with Johnny before, and those moments were in a room, in the middle of the night, and alone. Hours and hours were dedicated to work, yes, but it was just the two of you and nobody else.
So why is it so weird being in a five Michelin star restaurant with him?
Maybe it’s the atmosphere. The dim lights, the white clothed tables in lieu of the scratched up wooden one back at the law firm, and instead of leather seats, there’s a neutral beige chaise cushion for the dining chair, slightly less comfortable because it doesn’t recline like the one in your office. Instead of an array of photos and evidence disseminated in front of you, there’s a laminated menu with a multitude of options of what to have for dinner.
Johnny gets the steak with mashed potatoes and string beans, and you order something similar but seared salmon for the main protein. The waitress offers wine, babbling on about the age of the red, where the vineyard is located, and the dryness to sweetness—to be honest, you could care less; you’d rather have gin and sprite with a squirt of lime. A couple glasses of that and you can almost guarantee that the night would end with a deep slumber.
Oddly enough, Johnny seems nervous. Ever since he pulled up in his midnight black Audi in front of your apartment complex, he’s been acting strange. He keeps wiping his sweaty palms off the material of his trousers, occasionally swiping off the droplets that fall on the side of his face.
“Are you… okay?” you suddenly ask, adjusting your dress in your seat. Deciding to go with a black silk dress with a slit up the leg and your hair let down, it’s not a look you often sport but since you’re going on a date (one you haven’t been on in quite some time), you figured it would be nice to at least play the part.
“I’m, uh, honestly, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”
You quirk a brow curiously. “What? You’re telling me you never asked a girl out before?”
He lets out a bashful laugh with a faint nod, making an attempt to swallow his nerves after. “Honestly, I’ve always been asked out and not the other way around. Not to sound like that guy, but I never really had to put effort into trying for girls. They kind of just…”
“—Throw themselves at you?”
He beams. “Yeah! Like that. I don’t really know how to react half the time, but it makes the whole dating scene a little bit easier.” Geez, he called you dense, but he’s over here acting clueless.
Either way, it feels like whatever opinion you had about Johnny remained true. He never had to try when it came to the dating scene, and you could only imagine what that means for work and the relationships he has with the women in your career field.
“Mm, does that usually happen with work too?”
Befuddled, Johnny leans back in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”
With a shrug of your shoulders, you’re poking the meat of your salmon that falls off easily. After the first initial bite, the fish practically melts on impact when it touches the tip of your tongue, smooth like butter and bursting with flavor that couldn’t be described by any common person because it wouldn’t do the salmon justice. Johnny seemed to put a lot into this date, and you’re left pondering what the point of this was. Did he actually like you, or was he trying to get into your head? “Just seems like you get a lot of special treatment.”
“Are you jealous?”
“In what way?” you snap back.
“Are you jealous of me because I’m getting this so-called special treatment that you think I’ve always had, or were you jealous of the girls that seemingly got my attention?”
You’re left without anything to say.
It was a good observation he made because truthfully, you never saw it like that.
In actuality, you often saw Johnny as your rival. He climbed the ladder in the field with ease, and it wasn’t hard to quickly blame his success on the fact that he was a guy in a male dominated industry, but the fact that there’s a possible interpretation for your hatred may be from these feelings you might’ve been harboring for him this entire time… that can’t be it… right?
“I mean, look at where you are now,” you begin, trying to defend yourself. It can’t be true that the reason you’ve been bitter about Johnny was because of the girls that got his attention, and one of them not being you. “You got a high position from—”
“—From hard work,” Johnny interjects with his brows furrowed. “I didn’t get to where I was because I slept around, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I knew you sort of always hated me, but I’ve always admired you. I like your work ethic, I like your style, even though we’re both on opposite spectrums, I like the way you think and I wanted to know what it was like being partners with you. Getting to be on that case with you showed me more than just who you were as a lawyer, but who you were as a person. I like you, but I’m trying to put my finger on why you hate me so much.”
“So you noticed.” Sucking in your cheeks, your eyes trail elsewhere—from the fork that lays beside your plate, to the glass filled halfway with wine, to the little candle that sits in between the two of you that flickers the way he has your heart when he expresses once more how he feels about you.
“Yeah, of course I noticed. If you like someone, it’s kind to miss details like that about them. So… you really hated me because you thought I slept my way to the top, huh?”
“I mean…” shoulders dropping in exasperation, you run your fingers through your disheveled hair. “All those rumors—”
“Again, they’re just rumors. I worked hard to get here, you know. And I’m kind of offended that you thought of me that way.”
You scoff. “They’re rumors, Johnny, it’s kind of hard to ignore all the office gossip when that’s all you hear. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe either, with the whole flirtatious act whenever you encounter anyone who’s breathing and has a vagina.”
“I wasn’t flirting.”
“You need a book for dummies that elaborates on what’s flirting or not, because Johnny Suh, whatever it is you do with your body language in front of that chick who sits by the front door.”
“You mean Siwoo? The pregnant one who’s married to her highschool sweetheart? Also, how do you not know our receptionist’s name?”
You throw your arms into the air. “How am I supposed to know her name?”
He tilts his head to the side, genuinely baffled. “Do you… not talk to anyone outside of Hyeri?”
Your silence answers his question.
“I… honestly, I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be honored. You think I didn’t earn anything that I have now, you think that everything I have was handed to me. On one hand, it’s flattering that you think my looks and my bedroom skills could do that but at the same time… I’m offended because you think I’m incapable.”
“I never said you were incapable—”
“But you implied it.”
Hands falling onto your lap, it’s your turn to gulp. His words come shooting at you, but you’re without a shield to protect yourself, and with the new experience of working with Johnny, there comes the realization at times that Johnny is a hard worker. There are some things that he says and does that aren’t like the people you’ve encountered, and being put on new cases with Hyeri only proved it. He’s thoughtful in the sense that whenever you’d bring up your stance on something, he challenges you with what the defense might counter.
Johnny makes you want to be better. Not just against him, but to brush off the dust on your skills and enter into the battlefield of a courtroom to showcase them.
“Well, if you’re staying silent, I just want to say that I tried,” the crinkle in between your brows makes another appearance because Johnny is great at leaving you stunned and confused. “I really like you. I love how your head works, and I wanna be with someone like that but I also can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”
Why is it that when you’re in that conference room with him, you’re not afraid and never running out of things to say, but now you’re empty handed?
“I’ll pay for dinner. Grab you an Uber. I honestly thought I could overlook those things, and maybe your perspective for me has changed, but I could see it on your face. It’s the same.”
After that date with Johnny, his life turns back to normal.
Yours? Not so much.
Candidly speaking, part of you missed working with Johnny. You were wrong about him, so wrong, and even when you wanted to apologize at the dinner for what you thought of him, the pride in you was like a vicious plague that blackened your insides, preventing you from ever saying those words.
Oftentimes, you’d still be able to sneak a glimpse of him in his office with that same look on his face—full of concentration and nothing else in his mind other than the task at hand.
The cases you have with Hyeri entail a head like Johnny’s. Someone who could question you, to protest against your stance when there could be flaws in it. It feels like deja vu each time you think about it, each time you open a new case file and Hyeri sits there, perched in that seat beside yours, eyes sparkling with what you have in mind next, instead of what she has going on in hers.
Although you’ve tried convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, what you feel for Johnny is purely professional but when you see him standing by the water cooler with a couple of your coworkers, eyes mimicking the moon crescents in the skies, replicating the ways his lips curl in elation—it was beginning hard to believe that it was all platonic feelings.
So maybe you should be bold for once. Pull off that exterior that displays you as someone who isn’t just independent and assiduous, but someone who’s stubborn and aggressive in getting what they want—and not in a good way.
This time, you’ll show it in a good way.
Or at least, you’ll try.
Johnny is a routine kind-of-guy—he grabs an iced americano every morning at the coffee shop downstairs at the edge of the street, he does his daily 11:00AM drop-by at the water cooler to refill his Hydroflask (which was his prized possession, by the way), and parked in the same exact spot in the parking garage of your building, despite there being an abundance of places he could choose.
That’s why you decide to stand by his car after work that day. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shaking because it’s your turn to feel anxious. That blazer that once fit so comfortably in the morning suddenly feels tight and hot in the afternoon, and the weather hasn’t even changed. Your bag slung over your shoulder weighs ten times heavier than an hour ago, and you can’t stop your jaw from tightening.
Before your thoughts could spiral off all the possibilities of what the outcome may be when you tell Johnny how you feel, he’s already standing there, feet away from you with that dip in the fronts of his brows that you want to smoothen out the crinkles of with the pad of your thumb.
“Hi,” you greet, faint and peculiarly different from your other approaches. “Um, I just… was waiting for you.”
“Hey,” Johnny says back, the first few buttons of his shirt already unraveled, his blazer hung over his forearm and the sleeves are rolled up. “I see that. What’s up with you?”
“Um,” your leg was jittery, hard to control so you spat everything you had to say out as fast as you could before he could see right through you. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything. You’re admirable, kind, and I wish I inhabited those same characteristics you have. I think professionally, you’ve got great ideas, one that could be implemented into mine and what we did together for that case was just… yeah. We could do something big if we put our heads together.”
Johnny nods in agreement. The relationship between you two work-wise was obvious, he knew that much. “And what about… outside of that?”
“I like you,” you choked, barely getting the words out. “More than just coworkers, um, I guess, more than friends but I’m not really sure since you walked out on our first date,” inhaling in a deep breath of courage, you continue on, “and I don’t know how you feel now after I’m standing before you like this, asking for another chance and that I’m sorry.”
He stares at you blankly, and it leaves you unsure whether or not he accepts your apology. “You know why we ended that date early.”
“Well,” you start again, “can we… start over and try again? I promise I won’t tempt you to end the date early this time.”
And with that, there’s the signature smile that Johnny sports that swoons girls, makes their knees weak, and heart clench but this time… it’s just for you.
“I’d really like that.”
#ficscafe#nct fanfic#johnny x reader#johnny fanfic#johnny suh#johnny nct#nct 127#nct 127 fanfic#suh johnny#gyukultfics#idk what else to tag#hopefully this does well :|
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Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List
hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!
this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!
Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3
Oneshots
all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx
Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.
Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.
Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again.
As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam
There are Faeries in the Wood.
That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.
Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.
Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!
beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe
“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.
Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”
Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.
Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe
Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.”
Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping
Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.
Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con
“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”
“You don’t.”
It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.
This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings.
For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees
As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.
Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.
Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard
When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.
This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.
I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards
The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.
OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.
I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly
Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx
Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.
It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.
one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD
“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly.
Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips.
“Do fill me in on what’s so funny.”
It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.
Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.
Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.
to render it transparent | E | 23,901
Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.
Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.
With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose
Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.
(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)
Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.
Multi-Chapter Fics
A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate
So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”
Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.
I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily.
A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence
In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...
This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful
Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449
The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.
The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.
My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates.
Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler
I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.
(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)
This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.
friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard
Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.
“Shit."
Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.
Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.
I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium
As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.
You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?
Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan
Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.
As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.
Or-
Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.
This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.
we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war
Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”
Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.
~
And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3
#geraskier#geraskier fic recs#geralt of rivia#geralt#jaskier#witcher#fic recs#fic rec#I'm certain i missed a lot of good ones I've read over the years but I didn't want to risk making this super fucking long anyways#if you didn't see your name listed it isn't bc I don't adore you and your fics it's because i'm stupid <333
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In order for you to know if too people are in a secret relationship you have to look for the little things. interviews, shared looks,touching.
I watch most of panels for the last month and am 100 % sure something is happening between cockles. you know the way Jensen reacts anytime somebody mentions misha, the way he talks about him,j2m panel 2018 with the strip questions the shared looks. it's all there you just have to look and analyze their behavior.
you can't say too people can't be together because you don't see them hangout like... that's the point isn't it SECRET relationship meaning they don't wanna broadcast it or be spotted.
am sorry am rambling. you're one of my favorite blog btw.
Ohh thanks for considering my blog one of your favorites. But I have no merit, I'm like you, I'm just learning cockles lore and reblogging from wiser blogs.
I agree, cockles is like, hundreds of tiny pieces and details, when put all together you see the complete puzzle and it's just that whatever they have is real, it's deep and very emotional and they have very strong feelings for each other... some people see it as a deep friendship, others (including me) as a romantic relationship.
And we never asked for that. In all honesty, the first cockles post I ever saw I thought it was total bullshit. That people were projecting destiel in the real actors, "shipping real people is wrong!", and so on. But then I saw more and more hints and I became increasingly aware that they had something more than a friendship.
And yet, I'll say I was like 95% convinced cockles was real, but still 5% skeptical. But I wasn't skeptical because the full evidence wasn't enough compelling (actually it's the opposite!) but because as human beings we are biased, our point of views are flawed, and we really don't know what's going on between Jensen and Misha. So, who knows, I would be wrong after all.
Well, NOT ANYMORE! Finally I said goodbye to that 5% of skepticism, and gave up and surrended to the truth of cockles. And it was one of those tiny things you have said what changed my mind. It's actually a cockles moment which has been mostly overlooked, and which really deserves far more attention.
I'm talking about the panel where Misha tells his dream about Maison. You can see the original post here.
What caught my attention wasn't the fact that Jensen knew about the dream (and Misha's reaction when he woke up), because obviously, Misha could have told Jensen about it later on. It's Jensen's mood change what shocked me. He's so relaxed and smiley saying "He did! … he shared me with that…he did…he shared that with me…" and then, suddenly, he shuts up, and just said "I’m just going to hang out" like if he was trying to shut up his mouth, embarrased, and sits down. And now he looks at the public, and he looks terrified. Seriously, look at his face, he looks so troubled:
What happens, Jensen? Why were you so smiley and happy and then suddenly it's like the sky is going to fall over your head? Why do you look at the public with such troubled face? Are you worried people would notice something? Realize something you don't want be known?
His face is literally the definition of gay panic.
The moment he realizes he's dumb as fuck lmao:
And the fact that Misha laughs nervously, turns around, walks away while lowering his head, and try to change the conversation...
I have watched this video many times and I've tried to find alternative explanations, but the only one I can think of, the simplest one, the only one possibility, is that Jensen's subconscious tricked him and he was on the brink of outing himself, because he was implying (or at least that was what he thought) that he was on bed with Misha when he woke up and was told about the dream. Because they slept together that night (and I highly doubt that was the only night they slept together).
You can argue that Jensen was told later on, or that Jensen and Misha slept in the same room but in different beds, just like room mates. But my point is: that doesn't explain Jensen's stark mood change. It was the fear of outing himself what paralyzed him.
There. Is. Not. Heterosexual. Explanation.
And it would have been far worse. Personally, I think Jensen was in the brink of saying that he was on bed with Misha, but in 0.0001 seconds all his neurons fired realizing that HUGE MISTAKE and his brain just shut down.
And this, this was the moment I finally gave up, the moment I surrended to the last drop of evidence and admitted that cockles was (and probably still is) not 100%, but 200%, 300% real, as real as the air we breath, as real as the Big Bang, the continental drift or the evolution of life.
(me realizing cockles is absolutely certain and achieving enlightenment. Dramatization)
We live in an universe where cockles is real, where Jensen and Misha have been lovers for many years; it's amazing, isn't it?
#cockles#cockles is real bitches#cockles is real fight me#jensen ackles#misha collins#cockles moments#sorry for the long post sometimes I also ramble a lot
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[2HA analysis blog]
To love you is torment but leave you I cannot
I wanted to write this (hopefully not-too-long) blog to give 2HA fandom a different perspective of the events in the past timeline. I noticed that there are many little things that could not be carried over to the English language. These little things can give more explanations to our characters’ actions so I hope sharing this would help the novel make more sense. This blog focuses on Taxian-jun and Chu Fei.
Warning: Spoilers ! ! ! Taxian-jun and Chu Fei are their own trigger warnings ! ! !
Despite the novel having 350 chapters, we really know little about what happened between Taxian-jun and Chu Fei besides the abuse and mistreatment and that little is relayed to us by the Most Unreliable Narrator of the Cultivation World - Mo Ran Mo Weiyu. If we only take Mo Ran for his words then a lot of his and Chu Wanning’s decisions told later on would seem irrational and almost silly. So let’s dive deep in the past so we can understand how the great cultivator Beidou Xian-zun could raise such a dumb husky since the events in the past would explain the more irrational decisions made by both main characters.
Given Mo Ran’s narrator is about as reliable as his character in the first 120 chapters, we have to look at other more subtle clues and some of them are due to cultural and linguistic differences.
1. I used to like you a lot
At his coronation day, Taxian-jun stated that he once greatly looked up to Chu Wanning and that he used to love and respect him dearly. Maybe I am reading into this too much but this is my theory: The flower could erase the memory itself but cannot erase the feelings associated with the memory. He had his memories of the good deeds Chu Wanning did for him erased but still remembered that he used to love and respect him. It doesn’t make sense unless it is indeed that the flower could not erase its host’s feelings. So throughout the novel, Mo Ran’s complicated emotions are complicated possibly because he could not remember how he came to have these feelings. Similarly, Hua Binan could mess with the undead Taxian-jun’s memory to a great extent but could not erase his obsession with Chu Wanning.
2. I gave you a new title
Chu Fei. 楚妃. In the Imperial Chinese harem hierarchy, “Fei” means consort and not concubine (嬪 “Pín"). Consorts were highly respected positions in the palace weidling much political power and were only seconds to the Empress Consort. Another major difference is a consort would be married to the emperor while a concubine would not. So if Taxian-jun had truly wanted to only humiliate Chu Wanning and keep him for the carnal pleasures (I am intentionally ignoring his breeding kink completely), he would keep him as a concubine but he gave Chu Wanning the Consort title and hid him from the world.
At this point, Taxian-jun had almost lost Chu Wanning once and had spent a lot of effort to bring him back from the verge of death after hearing Chu Wanning’s apology so his anger might have softened a bit. Also, given that Chu Wanning is a man, having a legitimate offspring ( (I am still intentionally ignoring Mo Ran's breeding kink completely) is not an issue so although this is not clearly stated, I believe Taxian-jun wanted to force a relationship and somewhat proper marriage on Chu Wanning. Another hint of this is in an Extra chapter where Taxian-jun tried to get Chu Wanning a birthday gift. He recalled that in his past timeline, he had wanted Chu Wanning to give him something on his birthday as well and that he had wanted Chu Wanning’s heart.
3. Shizun likes to write letters and poems
On Book 3 Chapter 247, Chu Wanning sat down and wrote a few unsent letters to the people he used to know. He also wrote a few lines of poetry. In the first few lines taken from different literature works, he expressed his sense of helplessness and his wish to remain untainted despite the circumstances. The more important two lines are from a poem written by a real poet named Fàn Chéngdà ( 范成大) who lived in the 12th century Southern-Song dynasty. The two lines read:
“May I be like the stars, may you* be as the moon.
Night after night, may we shine together side by side.” **
*In the original work, the character used instead of you is “jun” 君 (as in 踏仙君 Taxian-jun). 君 could mean king, emperor, lord, or gentleman
** This is my rough translation - I haven’t found an English version of this poem
These two lines are commonly used in romantic novels as a way to express one’s unchanging love and loyalty to another person despite the circumstances. He compared himself as the stars and wanted to remain by Taxian-jun whom he viewed as the moon. Chu Wanning wrote this to express his willingness to stay but he would never voice this out loud. In the next timeline, he did the same thing by quietly loving and caring for Mo Ran 1.0 despite the mistreatment and was content with never expressing his feelings vocally. Mo Ran was rather uneducated and thus could not fully comprehend these two lines and misunderstood that Chu Wanning was missing Xue Meng.
4. You are all I have left
In chapter 252, after Chu Wanning returned to The Red Lotus Pavilion, he found Taxian-jun already waiting for him. Taxian-jun told Chu Wanning about a dream he had and said:
“I am afraid I don’t resent you… I want to resent you… Otherwise, I…”
“In the end, it’s just you and I”.
This is not the first time he expressed that Chu Wanning was all he had left or they only had each other. I believe that at this point, Taxian-jun might have somewhat believed Chu Wanning and recognized that his memories were missing. His words and behaviors seemed a lot more gentle and he mentioned they did have periods of time where their marriage was easier. I believe it was after this point. He told us about the numerous times he attempted to spoil his consort or expressed his affection through gifts, a trip outside the palace, goods, jewels, and even teaching Chu Wanning how to cook or personally taking care of Chu Wanning when he was sick. At one point, Taxian-jun expressed his wish for a more peaceful marriage with Chu Wanning through his breeding kink by saying that if they had children, perhaps they would be more civil towards each other.
Edit: I really wanted to go about this blog without having to refer to their particular taste in bed
5. Are you still mad?
This is a smaller detail but in the original text and the Vietnamese official translation, the way they talked to each other had a bit more of the “husband-wife” dynamic. Especially Chu Wanning ( l┐(︶▽︶)┌ ), the comment section said he sounded like when your wife is mad that you didn’t take out the trash but still says: “I’m not mad” and Taxian-jun, the husband, would come around and ask “Are you still mad at me?” after every fight.
6. I did not think you would really leave me.
On Chapter 99, Mo Ran recalled the fight between him and Chu Wanning after an assassination attempt. In order to convince Mo Ran to not go to Taxue Palace, Chu Wanning said:
“If you destroy Taxue palace, if you kill Xue Meng, I will die before you”.
Now the line “I will die before you” in my language is less of a suicidal ideation but more of a threat. It's used when a person already knows that they are important to the other person and is using their own death as a threat to make the other person do something. This line is thrown around a lot during heated arguments between people close to each other but they almost never mean it. (Even my mom said it numerous times before T_T . I personally think it’s manipulative). Therefore, it is understandable Taxian-jun did not take this line seriously and replied almost mockingly. After all, they had been married for almost a decade at that point, Taxian-jun probably felt somewhat comfortable that Chu Wanning would not do anything reckless. He could not foresee that Chu Wanning meant what he said and actually followed through with his words. I believe that if Taxian-jun had known that Chu Wanning was serious, Taxian-jun would not have gone to Taxue Palace.
7. Don't leave me, ok?
Then Chu Wanning died and Mo Ran spent two years alone. In those two years, we know he basically went insane because of grief, talked to a corpse everyday, and deep fried his Empress Consort. But strangely enough, Mo Ran 1.0 did not immediately mention this after being reborn although it was the main reason he committed suicide. And at that point, it had been well over a decade since Shi Mei faked his death in the past timeline, yet Mo Ran 1.0 seemed to still hold a lot of resentment towards Chu Wanning. Also, he said he could accept Shi Mei’s death but would never accept Chu Wanning’s. So honestly, it did not make sense to me the first time I read the novel and I believed Mo Ran resented Chu Wanning for a different reason.
The answer was first hinted at in chapter 9 when Mo Ran scolded the sleeping Chu Wanning. He called Chu Wanning a donkey hoof (lol) and this is actually an idiom to scold someone who is disloyal and unfaithful in love. The puzzles came together when the undead Taxian-jun showed up and immediately went after Chu Wanning (and not Shi Mei). He believed Chu Wanning used his death to hurt him and was angry at Chu Wanning for leaving him. This is the resentment Mo Ran 1.0 carried over to the next timeline. He hated Chu Wanning for abandoning him. This is solidified in chapter 262 by the undead Taxian-jun pleading to Chu Wanning:
“Don’t betray me”
“Don’t leave me the second time. The first time you left, I could choose death as a relief. This time, even death is not an option any more… I won’t be able to bear it…”
So there it is! I hope this blog brings some new information and feel free to discuss! Let me know if you have any questions for me ＼(￣▽￣)／
Disclaimer: Plenty of this is my conclusion drawn from the already ambiguous original text and various translations. Unless Meatbun says it, it’s not canon. I am looking at the novel in three different languages so I might have made some mistakes. Pls forgive. Also, I am not making excuses for Mo Ran 0.5’s actions nor am I justifying the abuse in any way. Chu Wanning never said Mo Ran 0.5 was innocent of these crimes nor will I.
#2ha#the husky and his white cat shizun#chu wanning#mo ran#mo weiyu#ranwan#taxian jun#chu fei#erha#husky is dumb but husky tried his best
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↬ 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬
abstract — steve professes his love for you then disappears for three months. what happens when he returns?
pairing — steve rogers x fem!reader
wc — 2.7k
warnings — 18+ DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR, heavy smut, daddy kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), cockwarming if u squint, cussing, angst, fluff.
[m blabs] — howdy howdy! this is for @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes , and @amythedvdhoarder hoelentine’s fic swap! sorry this is a day late pls dont come for me and i did not proof read this so i apologize for future readers suffering thank u
my giftee was one of the insanely talented writers on this app — @donutloverxo ! hope you like it berry! <3
It had been months since you’d seen him. An undercover mission taking longer than originally thought left you feeling lonelier to your own surprise. You blamed it how the two of you left things unresolved. Out in the open, all of his feelings laid out on a silver platter for you to take.
All of it. Steve, his love, the moment of words you’d dreamed of him saying — it was too real. Too unimaginable to believe. He always is.
You’d never really had someone you who went out of their way everyday to make you feel loved and Steve did. Truly, you should have seen it sooner. The consistency of his adoration and loyalty blew the limits of platonic friendship. Not until, he was nearly crying, choked up by his own words did you realize just how much it ran deep within him.
The words he spoke to you were still echoing in the forefront of your mind, not letting you breath for a moment. Were you really in love with him just as much as he was with you? It was hard to believe just because Steve was so far out of reach. Especially for you.
Watching his beautiful shade of cerulean, bright and beaming with hope, wanting nothing more than to for you to see him. Leaving him the impression that you didn’t cut the two of you deep. Your answer was hesitant, full of caution. Exactly the opposite for what he was yearning for.
Now, just like you had done for the past couple of weeks, you found yourself waiting in the tower for him. You lingered around no matter how many times Tony told you they would let you know when he was home safely. It didn’t stop you from coming, though.
Even if you knew it would be even longer until you would get to finish the conversation with him, being her helped you feel more at ease. Plus, no one’s besides Tony had the guts to try and make you leave.
Natasha and Sam were the only ones who didn’t really question it. Ever since you met Steve, you were here so often but they just so happened to be walking down the hall when he confessed exactly how wide his affection ran for you.
As they watched you linger in the tower, even if the outcome had been different than Steve wanted or expected, Sam and Nat were starting to see just how much you cared for him.
Natasha was the one to catch you silently sleeping in one of his sweatshirts cuddled up into his sheets. Thankfully, still smelling like him just enough to lull you into a peaceful slumber.
Then, Sam caught you peeking at the framed picture of the two of you sitting on his desk, the only one which did. Admiring the way you let your fingers drift around the wooden frame, endearingly. Internally, continuing to fight this inner battle within you.
“If it makes it any easier, I’m sure he misses you just as much.” You peaked up at the tone of Wilson’s voice, making his presence known. He walked over to you, watching as you continued to look at the photo.
Your smile wide at your college graduation, ball and gown, wearing a dress you knew Steve liked with his arms wrapped around your waist in a truly candid moment, one you’d forgotten about. The picture more than likely buried so deep within your phone with the countless others you had taken of and with him.
“I wish it did, but it doesn't really. Just wish I knew he was okay. I worry a bit too much, I think.” You spoke softly, halfway speaking to Sam but you mostly just spoke to yourself. “I never knew he kept this photo of us here.” Your touch finally disconnects from the sturdy frame.
“He really thinks too sweetly of me.” Standing in his office, surrounded by all of his belongings made it so much harder for you to cut ties like you had originally wanted to do. “Really? Couldn’t tell by how he talks about you constantly.”
“Oh my god, Sam.” You tried to ignore the butterflies erupting in your tummy, but anytime Steve was mentioned it seemed to be an effect he only seemed to pull from you. “What? C’mon, all of us know he was planning on telling you how he felt before Bucky and him left.”
Well, it seemed the embarrassment only seemed to continue.
“All of you, even Tony?” You asked him, even if you knew the answer. You just wanted the attention off you. “Especially Tony. Why do you think he’s been more of a smartass lately?” It made sense, but it did nothing to calm the nerves threatening to boil over.
“I guess I’m just having a hard time believing everyone knew how he felt, but me. I just never thought he would ever feel this way again, about anyone, after Peggy. She was the love of his life and it’s not something I couldn’t possibly measure up to.” You stopped looking at the picture, feeling sick to your stomach.
“With all of what he’s told me, I’ll always feel second best to her because I know just as everyone else if he could still have her he would.” You saw the sketch one time, when he left it open on the counter. It wasn’t really like you to snoop, but you couldn’t help it one day and you did.
Page after page, it was all of Peggy. Any feelings you were harboring for him at the time were thrown to the wind. Because then, you knew. Now matter how important you were to him now, you would always be in the shadow of his first love. The one that got away from him.
“What makes you think that?” Tears were starting to surface and you couldn’t handle it, the worst of your insecurities creeping in.
“Just ask to look at his compass next time you see him.” But you knew what was there. You didn’t need yet another painful reminder of it. “Why would I torture myself like that, Sam?”
“Trust me. You may be surprised.” You highly doubt you would be, so why even try?
The party was in full swing by the tie you arrived. The tower was full with more people than usual as you stepped in, watching as everyone enjoyed themselves. You were hesitant to even come to Natasha’s celebration at all.
You hadn’t been here since your conversation with Sam. Just a little too worried Steve might catch you lingering in his home and sleeping in his clothes. It was something the both of you did, but now with his feelings laying out in the open it seems so much more intimate than before.
Just as you were about to head towards the bar area, where everyone was, you left a large find your own grabbing your attention.
“Hi, sweetheart.” His velvety, smooth voice makes you melt just like it always does. It didn’t register for a second, just who you were talking to and when you did he was in for it.
“Stevie!” You leaped into his arms, too shocked to mask your sheer excitement as your legs wrapped around his slim waist, letting yourself be caught by him.
“I missed you so much, honey.” His words clenching at your heart at the endearing nickname. You felt him sigh into you, one of relief.
“I missed you, too.” You mumbled while you were still clinging onto him like your life depended on it.
“As much as I want to catch up, I feel like we should talk about what happened before I left.” Already, your heart dropped into your chest.
“Stevie, it can’t wait. Don’t worry about it. Okay?” You tried to rub it off because even after all this time you still weren’t certain of the weight in his words.
You let yourself down, off of him, and tried to lead him in the direction of the party but he didn’t budge.
“Please, work with me here. I’m sure they all miss you and want to see you.” Now, you were just stalling and Steve could see it as clear as day.
“Sweetheart, please just stop for a minute.” He felt your hand fall as you crossed your arms over your chest passively.
“Please, Steve.” You pleaded with him and for a moment you just thought he might go with you until those dating words fell from his plump lips.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Those words effectively shut you up as Steve stepped closer to you.
“I think about if you love me as much as I’ve fallen in love with you.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to move as he edged closer to you.
“Lately, I’ve been thinking about how much I want to kiss those pouty lips of yours. How much I wanna claim you in every single way.” He was so close to you now, questioning how you were still breathing.
“Just tell me you don’t want this and I’ll go down to that party right now and pretend like this never happened.” When you were silent, looking anywhere but him, he got the hint.
You watched as he walked in the navy clad plants with a button up clinging to his narrow waist.
“Wait!” Even with your heels, you ran to him while he waited for you to catch up.
“Do you still carry your compass on you?” You questioned him with tears in your eyes he hadn’t noticed until now.
And it crushed him.
“Of course I do. Wait...Is this just another crack at how old I really am?” Maybe if you weren’t sure he had just crushed your heart with a single response you might’ve laughed.
“I know this is going to sound weird but can I see it?” Watching him reach for it in his right pocket, you noticed the crimson blush reaching his cheeks.
“I just-, how is this is going to change anything?” Watching him as he awkwardly fidgeted with the object in hand.
“I don’t think it will, but I just need to see it.” He handed it over and you held it for a moment before opening it and nothing could have prepared you for it.
Well, possibly Sam’s words if he had elaborated more.
“I-I know it’s kind of weird. I’m sorry I should have asked when I took that photo but you just looked so beautiful like always and I couldn’t help it. I can take it out if it creeps you out too much.” His words trailed off on a mumbling mess as he was afraid he scared you off.
Even more than before.
“I thought you said Peggy’s photo was in it. Wasn’t it?” This time you were the one getting closer as you pushed back the wet hair away from his face, probably from the shower he’d taken not long after he came back.
“She was, but then I fell in love with you.” He leaned into your touch as both of your hands cradled his face.
“You’re my person. My soulmate. My home. I used to be so angry for so long because I had lost everything I ever loved, but it was all just leading me here. Right in this moment with you.”
You could’ve died happy right then, because the man of your dreams was confessing just on how much he loved you, again.
“Steven Grant Rogers?” You watched as his eyebrows furrowed at the mention of his full name. “Don’t you ever stop loving me. Ever.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He needed nothing more until he was locking his lips with your own. Commanding dominance from the start, causing you to whimper in response.
His skillful tongue sliding into your mouth, causing you to moan even more when he picked you up carrying you into his bedroom.
Before you even realized it, he was recklessly threw you on his bed as he stripped himself down to his boxers. His washboard abs and bulging muscles on full display.
In a flash, he was right back on you worshipping your body, turning you into a moaning mess.
Hiking up your red silky dress until it rested on your hips, your pretty pussy glistening already and he had barely touched you.
Without warning, he slipped two fingers into your warm heat watching as your head flew back. “Oh fuck, daddy.”
The words went straight to his cock as he pumped his finger in and out of you, leaving you begging for me.
“Oh, you like when Daddy’s fucking you with his fingers?” You nodded, unable for anything but moaning his name while he added another finger in you. You're hips moving uncontrollably as he was eye level with you.
Using his free hand, he gripped your jaw forcing you to look at him. “I want you to look at me when you come, princess.” With one swift moment, his thumb rubbed over your clit and you lost it.
Hearing you cry out beneath him as he pushed you over, screaming out his name as he continued to fuck your through the high.
“I need to milk your cock, Daddy. I need you to fill me up with your fucking cum.” He threw his boxers to the wind as he let you maneuver yourself on top.
“C’mon, princess. Let me see you bounce on my cock. Show me how bad you need my cum.” You surely didn’t need to be told twice.
Grabbing his hard cock by the tip, before rubbing over the tip and a few times before letting yourself to sink down until you bottomed out.
“You’re so fucking big. Shit.” But Steve didn’t let you take a breather for a moment until he was fucking up into you. Letting you know who was in complete control.
Until your hands found his hips and you used all your strength to pull almost all the way off of him before sinking roughly on his cock.
“Shit, princess.” As you whimpered you pushed yourself to bounce on his cock, no matter how much pain came with pleasure.
“Look at those tits, princess. You’re so fucking hot fucking yourself on Daddy’s cock. Such a good girl.” But then he flipped over pulling himself out of you before manhandling you on all fours.
Smoothing a hand over your spine, “You’re being such a good girl for Daddy. Let me take care of you.” Wrapping his hand around his thick, cock before finding your slick lower lips.
Rubbing the tip of cock along your folds, watching your body tremble before him. “Daddy, please.” You whined like a spoiled brat, begging for attention.
He’d break you of that later.
But now? He cock was practically dying for a release.
He slowly pushed himself into you, watching as your ass inches towards him more. Then, he was slamming himself into you so roughly you couldn’t fucking breathe.
Grabbing you by the hips, he fucked into you like his life depended on it. Admiring you as you took everything you gave him. The second climax hits you more quickly than you thought.
Steve grabs wraps his arm around you, pulling you up with his cock still thrusting up inside you — chasing his own high.
“I’m going to need you to cum with me, princess.” As he fucked into, your chest against his own and as you heard the slapping of his balls hitting your ass.
“Daddy, I can’t. It’s too much.” You shook your head, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Milk me, Sweetheart. I’m dying to fill you up baby. Let me cum in this tight pussy.” His fingers finding your clit, sending you over the edge.
“Yes. Jesus Christ. Don’t fucking stop.” He continued to fuck you senseless as you came.
“Shit, baby girl. I’m cumming.” Slamming himself hard than before as continued to fuck you into oblivion, his seed filling you up until you the both of you collapsed falling into his soft sheets.
The two of you just stayed there for a while with his cock buried deep beneath you. Soon, enough he pulled out leaving you empty.
He jumped out of bed before comping with a wet rag to clean you up, before pulling you into his chest.
“Okay, I think I might have a Daddy kink.” Making Steve laugh, slightly.
“Yeah, maybe just a little bit sweetheart, not that I’m complaining.”
#omfg this is so ROUGH#but i havent written in like 2 months#so at least we did it!#heck yeah :')#chris evans#chris evans x reader#chris evans smut#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#stever rogers smut#steve rogers fan fiction#mcu fanfiction#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers angst#m.writes#happyhoelentinesday2021
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Invisible String (2/?)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)
Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?
Warning: Sexual assault, mention of an anxiety attack.
Word Count: 1641
It turns out you definitely can't do this. Working in retail sucks, majorly. Customers are so awful to you and other employees as well. You didn't make the products, you don't control the prices, then why should you listen to them rant about it all day?
This job was from 9 am to 4 pm, which reminded you a lot of your previous job. By the time you got home, you were exhausted mentally and physically. Your current schedule was eerily similar to your previous lifestyle, which left you with no time to work on your book.
You felt like you were stuck in an insufferable loop that you just can't seem to escape no matter how hard you try. You thought about Mr. Barnes a lot, too. If only you weren't so egoistic and been a little nicer, then maybe you could have had that job.
With each passing day, you were becoming desperate. The only reason why you didn't run to Mr. Barnes a week ago was your pride. A pride that would not let you bow down to that rude, egoistic asshole.
It's like the universe could hear your thoughts and the devil himself walked through the doors of the store. Fuck, he can't see you here. He's going to think you're some nut job who's chasing stupid dreams after having an excellent degree. At least that's what your parents think.
You were about to run and hide behind an aisle when the voice you knew too well called out for you.
"Hey, do you know where I could find-"
"You," He said, without an emotion. "What are you doing here?"
You pointed towards the badge with the name tag on your shirt and mouthed working.
"Why?"
"Why?" You pretended to think, "I don't know, I interviewed for this other job about a week ago, but the boss was an ass."
"You lied to me," he stated as if it wasn't the most obvious thing.
"Gee, sorry, dad."
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what again?" You questioned.
" Diverging a question with a joke," He answered with an unaffected tone like he was studying you and your reaction.
"You know who I am." he stated. It should have been a question, but both of you were aware of what he meant.
"A vampire?" You mocked. He didn't look like one though, but hey, neither did Edward nor Stefan. But God, those steel-blue eyes could drink you up and you wouldn't complain. Focus.
For the first time you saw an emotion on his face that wasn't unaffected or bored, he was confused. Of course, he was confused, you were referencing twilight to a mob boss (you think, you weren't sure, but that's all you could gather from all the articles you found about him online).
"I need that job," you confessed. " I know it's not very convincing, but I need you to trust me-"
He raised a brow at that and his lips turned into a smirk. God, you wished you could swipe off that smirk from his stupidly handsome face.
"But you don't trust me, " you stated dejectedly and started turning around. "You wanted something? "
In an instant, his hand wrapped around your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks. You ignored the involuntary shudder that ran through you and immediately yanked your hand out of his grasp.
You turned around and were about to give him a piece of your mind about how he shouldn't just come to your place of work and touch you without consent. He clearly guessed your thoughts and cut in.
"Clint Barton, the manager, he will tell you everything you need to know about bartending and handling the customers."
Did he just hire you? What changed between this and your previous meeting with him?
And just like that, he left. There was a part of you that wanted to say fuck off I don't need your help, but you knew better, so you went to that club later that evening. You found the Manager, Clint. He told you he was expecting your arrival and that made you feel weird because Mr. Barnes was totally opposite the day you met.
Your new job required you to be at work from 8 pm to 3 am, which was ideal for you. You usually reach home and pass out till 4 in the morning and wake up around noon. This schedule gave you a lot of time to work on your book.
You ended up making friends with some other people that work there as well. Wanda was the smart, sarcastic one that you'd have died to have as a friend in high school. Pietro, her twin brother, was also nice, a bit fast and impatient, but he was nice to you. Peter looked very young, but he knew what he was doing and he'd help you out a lot. That kid had a lot of energy and adrenaline, which surprised you every time he'd be done with work way before you.
You didn't see Mr. Barnes frequently. You saw him one time entering the club, and you tried to give him a smile which he ignored and went straight to his office upstairs. And then you decided to ignore him as well. It wasn't like you to be petty, okay, maybe you were being petty, but in your defense, he started it.
You were finishing up cleaning the table and were about to call it a day when a man you didn't recognize, probably wasn't a regular, came in asking for a drink.
"I'm sorry, sir. We're closed." You told him politely.
"Whiskey on the rocks."
You wanted to refuse him again, but you stopped yourself when he came into your sight. He didn't look like the kind of man who'd take your no seriously. He looked just as intimidating as Mr. Barnes, even more, but Mr. Barnes knew his boundaries, whereas this man in front of you evidently didn't. You could tell this by the way his gaze was slowly taking your body in and stopping a little longer at your cleavage.
You wanted to cringe and curse yourself for choosing to wear a top like that in a place filled with drunk men. The smarter part of your brain told you that he can go fuck himself, and you shouldn't think about men when you dress up. Women are entitled to wear whatever they want to and fuck men and people who tell them otherwise.
Carefully, you made his drink and handed it to him. His hand lingered on yours while taking the glass from you, and you wanted to just throw the drink across his face. His gaze remained on your chest even when you fixed your top and coughed twice to call his behavior out.
"What time do you get off?" he asked, eyes still on your chest.
Is this guy for real? , you thought.
"Um, this is highly inappropriate and I think you should leave now because I have to call it a night." you rejected politely, raising your hand towards the door, hoping he'd leave.
He chuckled darkly, his stare still drinking in your body as if you were a piece of meat, and it made you very, very uncomfortable. He obviously wasn't taking no for an answer, and you had no clue what to do. You were the only person left, and you didn't even know who to ask for help.
"Come on, baby girl," he said, walking towards you and forcefully snaking his hands around your waist to settle on your hips. " Don't make this harder than it should be. "
"No!" you yelled, pushing him away and creating some distance between you.
"Hard way it is then," he decided, walking towards you and forcefully holding the hem of your shirt in his hands to remove it. You struggled, yelled, and pushed him off you again. He furiously lunged forward towards you and hit you hard across the face. "Fucking bitch."
"Rumlow!" a voice boomed from behind you, and you hated yourself for being in such a vulnerable state. As much as you tried not to, tears welled up in your eyes and you hated being the helpless damsel in distress.
"Get the fuck out of here." the familiar voice ordered.
"Chill, Barnes. We were just having a little fun," the man known as Rumlow reasoned nonchalantly. "Besides, it's not my fault if she wears clothes like this."
You were all about feminism and how women should be treated equally with respect despite their attire, but at that moment you hated yourself for choosing that deep-neck shirt this morning.
"I'm not going to chill while you sexually harass my employees, so get the fuck out of here," Mr. Barnes warned again.
You closed your eyes and hoped that maybe this was a shitty dream and you'd wake up in your bed and have an anxiety attack because of the nightmare. You hoped that maybe the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you, so you could just not think about this ever.
You heard two sets of footsteps faintly in the background, one dragging its way away from you and the other rushing towards you. Furthermore, you didn't have it in you to open your eyes and meet the ocean blue ones that you knew were waiting for you.
In your head, you had already taken up the blame. The verdict came out the moment his gaze landed on your chest that it was your fault that you wore this shirt. Of course, if you were thinking right, you would have realized that you were undoubtedly the victim here and Rumlow was an asshole who assaulted you, but in your helpless state, your mind decided you were at fault here.
TAGS: @bananapipedreams
#mobster bucky#mob bucky#mob!bucky#mob!bucky x reader#mobbucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky x you#mob!bucky series#bucky series#bucky barnes#bucky barnes series
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mists of celeste ➻ 39
➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader
➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut
➻ word count: 11.7k
➻ rating: M
➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba
➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you
⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist
✧✧✧
act five ➻ part six
You’ve come to the blinding realization that Jeong Yunho is enjoying himself far too much at this very moment. You are standing here preparing to get dragged to high heaven without relent by Hongjoong, and the healer has made himself comfortable in Hongjoong’s chair behind his desk, feet propped up on the corner with a pen dangling from his lips like it’s a piece of candy. It doesn’t help that whenever he stops staring you down, he shifts to look at the man in front of him with sex-laden eyes and you feel positively out of place in this room right now. You are also fairly certain that he’s smirking every time Hongjoong releases a deep sigh, but you can’t focus on that too much when Hongjoong is dragging this whole process out the way he is. If he would just get on with this inevitable lecture so you don’t lose any further shreds of dignity, that would be much preferred.
As though sensing the gaze on the back of his head, Hongjoong turns in his place to glare back at Yunho.
“Can you stop eye-fucking me for two seconds?”
“Not my fault you’re hot when seething with rage.” Yunho’s quip is thrown hastily back, bringing a huff from Hongjoong’s lips as he shakes his head.
“Knock it off before I kick you out.”
“Cute,” Yunho singsongs back, and he lets a smile stretch around the body of the pen between his teeth. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Now is not the time, Yunho.”
“I hardly mind an audience!”
“You won’t be allowed to go on the recovery mission for Mingi,” the captain starts at last, pointedly ignoring Yunho’s last comment as he redirects his focus to where you stand. Yunho pokes his tongue out alongside the pen, glancing between you and Hongjoong, but you only give him your attention for that brief moment. “I highly doubt I need to even begin to explain why this is my decision, but it would be best for you to hear it directly from me. Your actions last night, to put it mildly, were both irrational and childish. You reacted poorly to an already tense situation and not only put yourself at risk, but the safety of the crew at risk as well. What would have happened if you had killed Jisung last night? We would not have had the location of San and thus had no way of knowing where he is being held. You were reckless on all accounts, refusing to listen to both your captain and your lieutenant, who called out to you multiple times while you were talking with Jisung but you seemed unable to hear him in the slightest.”
All you can do is press your lips together and chew at the inside of your cheek. Hongjoong is not wrong, of course, and you would be the first to admit that your outburst last night was more than just a lapse in judgment. As for Seonghwa trying to get you to stop, you truly have no recollection of that, so if he did attempt that you were unable to hear it. There’s no telling how long Hongjoong was lingering at the edge of the room either or if he called you off at all, but those are just unnecessary details at this point.
“Trying to do things on your own out of a purely emotional reaction does nothing for the crew as a whole. Thus, there is no way in hell I would ever let you go on this mission. Allowing you to go would teach you nothing; it would simply tell you that you can get away with shit like that. And I’m telling you now that you cannot and will not under my command.” Hongjoong brings his arms up to cross over his chest. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, still leaned up against the front of his desk as before, and though his tone reads anger, you can’t find any in his posture. Yunho’s still teasing that pen between his teeth. “Yeosang and Jongho will accompany Jisung to recover Mingi according to the agreement you struck up with Jisung. Whereas you, Y/N, will remain on the bridge being monitored since you cannot seem to act like an adult on your own.”
The not-so-subtle dig should burn your pride, but this is humiliating enough to have you already in the lowest depths of your dignity.
“Along with that, we have come up with a failsafe for if Jisung acts up. If he decides to get rowdy and misbehave himself, then you will be strapped to a chair and punished for each of his missteps. That’s… not a conclusion we came to lightly and it’s not one we wish to enact as you are a member of the crew, but we are not sure how else to keep Han in line.”
“Tch, do your worst,” you scoff. You nearly mirror his stance and cross your arms over your chest, but you think twice when you see the quirk of his brow at your tone. You have pushed your luck enough in the past twenty-four hours, so perhaps you need to hold back just a tad until Hongjoong is less… on edge with you. “I was ready to kill myself last night to stop him. What more can you do to me now?”
Now, it’s Hongjoong’s turn to scoff, and the huff of air that follows is so sharp it sounds like a whistle. He pushes off the desk in the same movement, arms falling down to his sides, and with each following word, he takes a step closer to where you stand.
“You think you can afford to be reckless and risk your life over someone as insignificant and pathetic as Han Jisung?”
He’s close enough to jab a finger into your sternum now, knocking hard against the bone just beneath your collarbone. His height disadvantage from last night is gone as well; he must have had time to make himself presentable before calling you up to be drawn and quartered (seemingly for Yunho’s amusement because he’s just having the absolute time of his life over there).
“Do you have every right to act that way with him? Perhaps you do, but you will not, under any circumstances, threaten your own life to prove a point under my command.” Hongjoong presses closer, enough to hiss his next words against the shell of your ear and leaving you to stare past his shoulder directly at Yunho. “I need you alive. When you agreed to be part of my crew, you trusted me with your life. And as such, I will not allow you to throw your own life around so foolishly. Understood?” The distance between you increases as he leans back. You expect more words from him but all he does is arch a brow and stare at you with inquiry to his gaze.
“Yes, Hongjoong,” you murmur before going back to chewing at your lower lip. Hongjoong catches your chin with his index finger a moment later though, forcing you to look back at him.
“Do not mistake my kindness last night for mercy, Y/N. I am your captain still and you will regard me as such.”
“Yes, Captain,” you grit out, teeth pressed so tight that your jaw hurts as you speak. Hongjoong laughs — whether it’s at your expression or the way you force the words out is unbeknownst to you, but he steps back to give you more space after you respond. Yunho hums from his place at Hongjoong’s desk. He slips the pen out to point the tip in your direction, a cruel smile pulling the corners of his lips up.
“It seems you were right after all, Captain,” he singsongs. “Here I thought you wouldn’t be able to keep her in line.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes a bit at that but does nothing more than sending a half-hearted glare back at Yunho over his shoulder.
“What’s going on?” You ask as you watch their brief interaction with a narrowed gaze of your own.
“Hm, nothing, nothing. Now, the real reason I don’t want you going on the mission to retrieve Mingi is that you will be going on the team to recover San.”
“The what?” You echo, brows rising at the mention of San. Hongjoong continues as though you didn’t interrupt, not pausing to answer your question.
“I don’t want to run the crew too thin as it is, but it’s best to send more people with Jisung in the off chance he does decide to misbehave. Once that team returns, you will be dispatched with Wooyoung to recover San.” Hongjoong pauses to smile a little. “That works out best for you, does it not?”
Frankly, Hongjoong has no reason to send you on the recovery mission for San. If he were truly punishing you, he wouldn’t even let you dream of it. So why?
“Why would you let me go on that mission knowing it’s what I want? Wouldn’t a true punishment be to not send me on that mission?” You inquire against better judgment. Hongjoong shoves his hands into his pockets and tilts his chin to the ceiling.
“The punishment,” he starts in a slow, drawling tone, “is refusing to send you on the mission you tried to plan yourself without my approval. And given how eager you are to both protect San and bring him back unharmed, I know that I can trust you to do that. Initially, I was going to send you alone on this mission but Seonghwa suggested sending Wooyoung along too.”
Even with Seonghwa locked up, they still work together on plans and missions. Despite fighting just yesterday as well. You purse your lips as you listen to Hongjoong talk, moreso because of the mention of Wooyoung and Seonghwa’s suggestion that he come along. Seonghwa knows of Wooyoung’s identity, as well as yours, and those facts combined leave you more baffled than anything else. Why the hell would Seonghwa suggest sending two Sirens off on a dangerous mission like this one?
Hongjoong pulls a hand out of his pocket to tap at his chin.
“Today will be a busy day for all of us, but it should be the last busy day for quite some time. If Jisung complies and everything goes according to plan, that is. Yeosang and Jongho will be leaving to accompany Jisung for Mingi’s retrieval in forty-five minutes. They are slated to return late afternoon. Should the mission go off without a hitch, you and Wooyoung will depart shortly after they get back. I will fill you both in on further details later when you are both present. I hesitate to interrupt whatever Yeosang and Wooyoung may be doing at present.” Yunho snorts at that comment, covering the sound with the back of his hand. “After today, you all will be able to have some time to rest and recover before we move forward. We won’t be leaving the planet immediately though. Seonghwa and I are to depart for a short mission of our own tomorrow.”
He doesn’t add any more detail to that bit of information. You can read the context clues and the shift in mood well enough though, and think you have a good grasp of what that mission might be. Subconsciously, your gaze flits over to Yunho again, but his expression is flat and unreadable, leaving nothing for you to pick up on. Hongjoong offers a strained smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Even though you had many missteps last night, your conversation with Seonghwa was, for the most part, not one of them. You did well and kept your promise to leave the decision in his hands in that regard. Your errors were only in what followed that conversation. It’s not easy for someone in your position to show such empathy, yet you managed to do so anyway. Given what Seonghwa and I talked about after you were dismissed, you… you managed to make him feel a bit more human and helped him recognize that his feelings are not obsolete. So, I thank you for that much. I won’t lecture you any further for now, but I do still have many qualms with how you handled Jisung’s taunting and how that behavior affected Seonghwa in turn. I’m in a decent enough mood to not lecture you about that right now. You have earned a sliver of my trust. Work hard to get my respect next.”
You arch a brow, fighting to hold back the scoff that threatens to spill forth.
“What makes you think I want your respect to begin with?”
Hongjoong matches your expression with a fire of his own, and some light returns to his grin.
“Arrogance.”
///
The cool metal floor of the bridge burns your knees even through the thick material of your pants. You’re trying your best not to let it affect you, but the combination of the freezing cold along with Hongjoong’s unending glare on your back is nothing pleasant. You can’t see his glare head-on, which could either be viewed as a good thing or a bad one depending on your perspective. Right now, however, you find it to be unsettling: the way you kneel in front of the observation window that still overlooks a mostly empty hangar bay with Hongjoong seated in his captain’s chair behind you. It would be entirely less frightening if not for the way Hongjoong is twirling a knife in one hand and humming under his breath, just faint enough for you to overhear although you don’t recognize the tune. With one leg crossed over the other and his chin propped up on his free hand, his position only exudes power. That’s very much a power you can feel all too well in this moment, knowing exactly what the intents and purposes of that knife are.
The captain is communicating with Yeosang through the comms system, and in turn, he’s keeping tabs on Jisung’s behavior throughout their mission. You’re banking on Jisung not acting out of line so you can preferably preserve yourself from further bodily harm, but the threat looms past your shoulder nonetheless. Jongho went along with the pair, another hopeful guarantee of Mingi’s safety, yet you were not even allowed to watch them leave thanks to your behavior last night.
The silence hanging between the two of you is deafening, and your thoughts won’t settle for more than a few seconds, so you’re the one to break the silence once it starts to drag.
“Could I ask you something about tomorrow?”
“Go ahead.”
“If Seonghwa were to regret his decision, what would you do?”
It might be a bit of a loaded question, one that he could very well refuse to answer, and his sharp inhale of breath makes you believe he might just do that. Then, a few breaths later, he speaks.
“There isn’t much I could do,” he admits. “Though I would do anything and everything in my power to ease the burden on his shoulders in that case. And you? What would you do if you reach San too late? If he’s already had the serum injected?”
“Do you truly believe he has?” You inquire back, and despite your attempts to sound firm and resolute, you come across more afraid than anything else.
“I know San’s resilience well enough to believe he would never do that, but that wasn’t the question. No matter how slim the chances of failure are, you must be prepared for any possible outcome.”
“Failure?” You retort, bristling a bit where you are seated. You cast a look over at Hongjoong through the reflection, moreso just to glare at him, but you don’t think he can see you looking. “Recovering San would never be a failure. The only failure on this mission would be not being able to retrieve him.” Despite those claims, you can’t shake the thoughts of San forgetting you in your dreams the previous night. You thought the worst pain imaginable would be finding him dead, but him forgetting you before you get the change to — no, it’s not good to dwell on those concerns now.
“Does that mean then that recovering him even at the cost of his memories is still a success to you?”
“The only failure would be not rescuing him,” you reiterate, pushing your tone a bit so it echoes through the bridge. Hongjoong huffs out a laugh. “During my time in the military, I was taught to accept any possibility on a mission. Even if it’s not what I want, I have to accept that a San who is alive and well but cannot remember me is better than one who is broken, gone, or worse.”
You dare to glance over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Hongjoong’s face. He’s smiling a little, just enough to cast the shadow of a grin over his lips.
“You never would have passed for an Elitist, you know?”
“Is that supposed to be a criticism?”
“You are choosing the most logical option, yet your reasoning for doing so is purely emotional. Yeosang would have offered no explanation.”
“And yet he cried every night Wooyoung was gone.”
“Of course he did, Y/N. That’s not the point I’m trying to make,” Hongjoong states. He lifts a brow at you. “The key issue most people have when pretending to be Elitists is that they try to erase all signs of emotion. Elitists still have emotions and feel them as strongly as the rest of us. They merely ignore those emotions often in favor of more reasonable and logical outcomes. Yeosang could have cried every night for months straight, but if I had offered an illogical plan to recover Wooyoung, he would not have taken it.”
“I don’t believe that,” you counter, grumbling the words under your breath before turning back to the observation window.
“Did I hear my name? Are you guys gossiping about me without me?”
“Ah, there you are.”
You glance back immediately at the sound of the newcomer, catching the broad grin on Hongjoong’s lips as he too stands to greet Wooyoung.
“What took so long?”
“Yunho did my hair!” The man reaches behind his head and pulls back the top half of his hair as he matches Hongjoong’s smile with his own toothy one. The whole underside is a blinding blond, top half left black and hanging loose around his face. “Looks hot, doesn’t it?” Hongjoong releases what sounds like a snort then swipes a hand at Wooyoung’s. The movement sends a surge of panic through you for a second, not because you think Hongjoong would truly hit Wooyoung, but because of how the younger might react to the hasty swipe. He crushes that fear in an instant, laughing loud and clear as Hongjoong lands his palm on the other’s head and ruffles his newly dyed hair until it’s a mess atop his head.
“Ask Yeosang when he gets back. Did you make time to visit Seonghwa too?”
Wooyoung’s smile wavers some at that.
“I did, yeah.” Wooyoung glances down. Even with the odd angle, you can see the conflict in his features and the way his brows strain to keep from slipping further together. Hongjoong must see it too because he’s next to speak.
“…And?”
“It’s hard seeing him in that position,” Wooyoung says under his breath. “I’m not… not used to it and I hate every ounce of it. I don’t like seeing Seonghwa weak, and even though I know he’s not, it still feels like he is seeing him that way. Brings out old feelings I’d rather not revisit honestly.” Hongjoong brings a hand up to run through his fading blue tresses to hide the way his fingers tremble.
“I’m assuming Han wasn’t present when you went down there?”
“I went before they left this morning. With, um, with Yeosang, but Han seemed to be asleep the entire time. Didn’t move or look at us at least. We — we didn’t talk about anything important either.” Wooyoung’s gaze flits over to where you’re standing. You incline your chin a bit but stay mum, knowing the implication behind his words. They didn’t discuss anything related to Sirens, that is, which is mildly encouraging for you if that means anything at all. “Yunho was gonna head down there when we finished my hair too.”
If that surprises Hongjoong, the captain doesn’t let it show. It shocks you some, on the other hand, given that you’ve witnessed them fight and argue more than they’ve been civil in your time on the crew. Commenting on that won’t do you any good so you stay quiet, eyeing Hongjoong’s demeanor out the corner of your eye while he continues to speak to Wooyoung.
“Anyway, that’s not important right now. The mission?”
“Right, the mission,” Hongjoong mutters even though his mind seems to be elsewhere. He lifts a hand and beckons you closer, and you move to stand alongside Wooyoung near his chair. “Han disclosed the location of the military complex where San is being held. It’s further up in the Upper Echelon than the brother was but also more highly guarded.” Hongjoong pauses to spare a glance in Wooyoung’s direction. “Are you sure you want to come on this mission? I won’t force you if you don’t feel ready.”
At first, all Wooyoung manages is a thick swallow.
“I… I-I want to be ready,” he stutters after a moment of deliberation. “I want — I don’t want what happened to me to affect the well-being of the crew.”
“I can easily go in your place, Woo. I don’t mind if you don’t feel comf—”
“No,” Wooyoung interjects, shaking his head all the while, and Hongjoong actually falls quiet at the interruption. “No, then what? What’s your plan? You want to leave Seonghwa stuck in a cell with Yunho, who can’t fucking kill anyone, as his sole protector while some psychopath mills about the ship as he pleases?”
“Yeosang and Jongho will be back with Mingi by then. We have a plan for Jisung as well, to keep him somewhere out of Seonghwa’s vicinity and within reach. It will have to do temporarily, and besides, Yunho can step up when he needs to.”
“He can’t hold a gun without throwing up; what makes you think he has the balls to kill someone?”
“I — we’re working on that still, admittedly, but he’s getting better.”
“Hongjoong, I’m fine. I talked to Yunho yesterday and ran through the whole screening with him. He didn’t see an issue with me so I’m clear to go on a mission, and I am okay with going on a mission. I’ll be with Y/N the whole time, right? That should be enough! I know how to fight and defend myself. Whatever happened in that brothel shouldn’t bother me.” Wooyoung, if nothing else, is quite adamant, leaving forward into Hongjoong’s space a bit to clutch at his forearm. Hongjoong merely blinks down at the offending hand but does nothing to remove his touch before offering a hesitant nod.
“Okay, I trust you.”
“Are you worried about San?” Wooyoung inquires. His teeth sink into his lower lip moments later. If he aims to probe deeper into Hongjoong’s feelings, the captain does well to not let anything slip through his countenance.
“I worry for all of the crew. San is no different.”
“San is a bit of a special case though, isn’t he?”
Now that’s a first for you. The first you’ve heard such a thing be said about San, that is. You have known since the mission in Echidna that Hongjoong values and cares for San quite a bit. To this extent, however? You’ve not heard anything memorable. Hongjoong and Wooyoung share an unspoken conversation with just that ounce of information, and you are left to your bewilderment. Whatever it is they’re talking about, you have no idea. There’s no time to ask either because Hongjoong clears his throat and dismisses the topic as quickly as Wooyoung brought it up.
“I’ll put the coordinates of the warehouses in Channel 7, so tune over to that channel and sync your wristbands and earpieces. It will just be the three of us and Yeosang listening in this time. As soon as the others get back, Yeosang will bring Jisung to the bridge. I don’t want him with Seonghwa anymore, but we still need to keep him on lockdown for now. Jongho will take Mingi to Yunho and help look after him while you two are away. Yeosang asked to be connected for your sake.”
“Of course he did,” Wooyoung huffs. The roll of his eyes is nothing but affectionate, present but a faux annoyance.
“It’s just for precaution though; you won’t have any backup in there. Once you two are on the ground, you’re on your own.” The discomfort Wooyoung exhibits is minimal and hard to catch. It’s there, however, a shift from foot to foot and a glance over at the wall like something is about to jump out at him. Hongjoong pushes closer and drops his hands atop the younger’s shoulders. “I… hesitate to say this because I do not wish to take this choice away from you, but I think it is in everyone’s best interest to keep you off this mission.”
“No, no, I’m okay. I’m fine! I can go on the mission, Joong, I want to go on the mission,” Wooyoung rambles, head shaking frantically from side to side. “I’m strong enough, I can fight, I can r-recover San. With Y/N. We can recover San.”
“You don’t need to convince me of that, Wooyoung.” Hongjoong’s lips fold down. “I also don’t need you to go on this mission to prove that. I already know those things of you regardless.”
“I just… I w-want to be okay enough to go on the mission because everyone else is,” Wooyoung mutters loud enough for both you and Hongjoong to hear. “Everyone else is okay. I don’t want anyone to — to worry about whether I’m okay or not.”
“Wooyoung…” To your surprise, Hongjoong huffs out a laugh and cracks a strained smile. “My lieutenant has locked himself in the brig, my strategist has been tearing his hair out for days on end and I think I found a bald spot on the back of his head the other day because he’s been so stressed over recovering you, my bruiser is quieter and broods more than ever, and our dear ghost here is dealing with seeing an old teammate who manipulated her memories and kidnapped three members of the crew. I have not slept more than three hours in the past two days, and no more than twelve in the past week. The only person who is even mildly okay right now is Yunho, but that’s only because he is in denial about how much this is weighing on him and using physical pleasures as a way of coping with the stress. You don’t need to be okay because no one else is either. Not right now at least. It would taste a lie to pretend like anything about this situation is something you should be okay with. Once San and Mingi are both back and safe, and once Han Jisung is properly taken care of, then we’ll be able to rest and recover.”
“I — o-okay.” Wooyoung’s shoulders fall forward as he relents, but he doesn’t put up more of a fight. “Does Yeosang really have a bald spot though? I mean, I yanked his hair pretty hard last night because I got a bit carried away and saw something on the back of his head but I thought I was just seeing things. Is it actually there? Maybe I should be more gentle with his poor head then.”
“You — Wooyoung, I-I am not — this is hardly important!”
“Excuse you, my lover’s hair growth is extremely important!”
“He has a fucking bald spot, I already told you that much. Now, enough out of you, and get some legitimate rest while you can. Or if you’re feeling restless, you can see if Yunho needs help with anything in the medbay.”
“Yes, Captain.” Wooyoung bows his head a tad before sending a half-hearted wave in your direction. You return the gesture with a smile, watching him turn on his heel and exit the bridge the way he came. His shoulders are pushed back a bit more this time, there’s some confidence to his steps that he didn’t have when he came, and you can practically feel the relief that oozes off his body even when he’s out of sight.
“So that leaves just us then?” You ask once you tear your gaze away from the archway.
“We’ll keep Yeosang on the line since Seonghwa will still be unavailable. Nothing else about the plan will need to change.” Hongjoong turns back to sit in his chair once more, but you stay put, watching his movements out the corner of your eye.
“You mentioned going back out into the city tomorrow. When do you plan to leave for that?”
“If everything goes well today then… hm, we’ll probably leave the planet around three days from now? Just in case Yunho needs other supplies that we don’t have readily available here on the ship.”
“So there will be one last day here before we all leave? Where we should all be on the ship, I mean?” Teeth sink into your lower lip after you pose the question. Hongjoong’s gaze turns analytic and searching, but you offer no more information as it is.
“Yes…” He affirms after several seconds of hesitation. “Why is it you’re so curious?”
“Something has been bothering me since recovering Wooyoung from the brothel.”
“Enlighten me.”
In all honesty, you weren’t expecting to even get this far with the conversation. Part of you thought Hongjoong would shut you down before you got a chance to explain yourself, and all the thoughts you had of bringing this up to him were fleeting and momentary. The lack of prior planning makes you stop in your tracks and stutter over air.
“I – in, um, while Jongho and I were waiting for Yeosang to go through, I c-came across a girl who used to be on my team. Back in the military, I mean. She was a worker there and apparently has been since my team defected. It’s… I understand that I’m not in any position to ask for things, and she didn’t ask me to help her in any way, but I can’t help but to want to get her out of there. Seeing what Wooyoung suffered in there wasn’t pleasant, and I can’t rest easy thinking of her suffering the same way.”
Sure you promised Soojin that you would help her find leads on Ash and Juyeon without saying you would help her get out, but her only reason for not wanting freedom was the lack of a place to go. “I don’t have anything left out there beyond the House.” If you could do anything to convince Hongjoong to take her in, even just for a short period of time to get her back on her feet, that would be more than ideal.
“You can’t rest easy? Then forget about her.”
“I — what?” You should not have let yourself have an ounce of hope, it seems.
“Put her out of your mind and forget about her if you do not wish to imagine her suffering.”
“Hongj— Captain, I can hardly—”
“Y/N, your former teammates seem to have a streak of being less than kind. Don’t forget how you acted in your first few days on the ship. How can I trust someone I don’t even know to not do the same? And all things considered, I cannot trust your memory to recall the truth.” Hongjoong lifts his brows as he speaks. There is no anger in his features or in his tone; moreso a sense of finality that offers the smallest window for you to argue back on the matter. You take the chance nonetheless.
“She can vouch for herself seeing as she helped us escape. You can ask Jongho and Wooyoung as well, they witnessed it as well as how she helped me. Jisung tried to kill her the night of the mission — he sent an assassin to dispatch her before she could see me simply because he knew we would come across each other. And she told me part of what truly happened the night I killed the king, and I believe what she said.” You pause to inhale a deep breath of air, lungs straining from the sheer amount of air you are trying to force into them. “Captain, I am not looking for you to drop everything for her. The last two living teammates of my team left with her, but she was alone with no knowledge of where they are or if they are even alive.”
“Why waste time thinking of the dead?”
“Why forget about them when there is even the slightest chance they’re alive?” You counter. You don’t intend to sound so inflamed about the topic, but the heat resides in your tone and burns the tense air hanging between you and the captain. His jaw shifts. “I would be content even if you could only promise that I have a way to deliver information about them back to her if possible. I know you have contacts here on Dorado.”
“And I suppose you’ve come up with an entire escape plan as well?”
“I — no, I hadn’t thought of that. To be honest, I’m not even sure she wants to be saved, but that could only be because she doesn’t see a way out.”
“You have a knack for wanting to save people who don’t want to be saved. You and Seonghwa are similar in that matter, but there comes a time where you must realize you can’t be everyone’s savior.”
“What do you mean by that?”
One corner of Hongjoong’s lips quirks upwards, and he arches a brow to match the movement.
“Is it really that hard to figure out? The pardon papers, to begin with, the whole reason you even met the crew. Did you think I had no clue of what your intentions were on that military ship? Especially when my intentions were the same? Imagine my surprise when I arrived in the captain’s cabin to learn you had taken them already.”
“Why did you hold off on that information all this time?” You had been convinced at the time that it was for no other reason than to cause a bit of chaos and steal some cargo. But to find out that Hongjoong had the same goal? What’s his play here?
“I no longer need those papers so it would have been futile to mention them before now. They were meant to be a bargaining chip for the client I met on Echidna, but seeing as he is dead and gone… hardly important, no? But that’s beside the point — your intentions are what we’re discussing. Who were those papers meant for? Had they been for you, you wouldn’t still be lingering around the crew like this, would you? I think you imagined you would be able to save Jisung in some way with them.”
“Hardly!” You sneer back, clutching blindly at your chest as though to find the spot where you used to hide those papers. They aren’t there anymore, you know that, and yet you still ball a fist around the fabric over your chest. “They were never meant for him, but I didn’t imagine this was the kind of person he would turn out to be!”
“Then they were meant for this girl you came across? One of the other two who are missing? Or perhaps was it another, who is no longer present? What is it you think death really is, Y/N? Why do you keep clinging to someone who is no longer alive? What good does pardoning him do?”
You have no response or defense. Nothing you say will appease Hongjoong; you believe that with every fiber of your being, and the way he is staring you down currently offers no relief.
“You see, Y/N,” Hongjoong starts as he pushes up off his seat. He stays up on the platform with his chair, looming over you with the height of the stairs to his advantage, and now there’s a special glint to his gaze that leaves you transfixed. “Your issue that when it comes time to make a difficult decision, when push comes to shove, you turn tail and run. If I had given you a single key last night and told you that you had the power to release one person in the brig, who would you have chosen?”
“Seonghwa.”
“Who would you have chosen?” Hongjoong persists, stepping further into your space.
“What are you trying to get at? I gave my answer already. It would be Seonghwa, and that’s that.”
“And if it had been before the conversation we shared before you went into the brig?”
“It never would have been Jisung,” you snap back.
“All he had to say was ‘I’ll take you to San’ and you would have released him without a second thought.”
Fuck.
Fuck. You have to clench your jaw to keep from exhaling your frustration, but it only highlights your annoyance.
“You’re saying you wouldn’t?”
“No, I wouldn’t, because I know he would have given up that information eventually, Y/N.” Hongjoong’s gaze is anything but smug and gloating — if anything he’s regarding you with no emotion at all. It’s still enough to cause you to drop your chin to your chin and huff out a mirthless laugh.
“Is this the part where you say caring is weakness?”
“No, I would be quite the hypocrite if I said that. I’m telling you that you have to accept the fact that there are people who cannot be saved. Whether that’s because they do not wish to be saved or because it is impossible to save them. Let yourself care about people; that’ll keep you alive. But caring too much? There’s your weakness.”
“That’s bold of you to say, is it not? Where’s the line then, Captain? When it becomes love?”
“Love? Love is a concept made by weak people for those with even weaker wills.”
And when Hongjoong breathes those words, you almost believe them. Face value, meaningless terms such as love — what good have they ever done you? You and Seonghwa never loved each other, not truly at least because otherwise, things wouldn’t have fallen apart the way they did. Your memories tell you that Jisung loved you in some sense at one point but what did that do? Cause him to have a psychotic break? Cause you to ruin the only good you had in your life?
You hate the image that comes to the forefront of your mind. The memory that accompanies it is almost more painful.
“But I just feel like I’m broken glass that’s been put back together the wrong way.”
“Then I’ll take you apart and put you back together the right way.”
You clench a fist by your side, squeezing the skin around your knuckles in a way that has your nail digging into it. It does nothing to will away the dimpled smile in your mind, nor does it make your breathing come any easier, but Hongjoong continues on and offers enough distraction for you to ground yourself.
“Depending on how today and tomorrow go, I will consider our options and what’s possible for your friend. But I will not risk the safety of my crew again.”
“What happens once San and Mingi are back?” You inquire, head tilting naturally to the side. “Do you plan to kill Jisung and be done with it or…?”
Hongjoong’s initial response is a firm shake of his head.
“We’re already weak and spread thin as it is. I can’t risk endangering the crew further by starting a war between Jisung’s crew and ours.”
“Jisung won’t just leave if you ask him to.”
Hongjoong’s gaze flits over to the side, a hasty and clever avoidance of your stare as he finds purchase on some dent in the wall.
“Yunho and I did some talking last night… about the serum and how it works.”
“Is that your definition of pillow talk?” You scoff. Hongjoong jerks his head back in your direction and settles a sharp glare on you that holds little actual anger to it.
“Jisung knows a lot about it and how it works. Yunho hopes to be able to get some information out of him once he’s back with the others. We still have leftover vials from the Kebos mission. If you wanted, we could administer a dose on Jisung and make him forget all about you.”
“If I wanted,” you echo, pointing a finger at yourself as you emphasize the word.
“If you wish for the choice to be in my hands, then I can be cruel for you. But just as with Seonghwa and his mother, as well as Mingi and his choice to not use the serum, this is something personal. The choice is yours to make as he is your past and not mine.”
“I’ll consider it,” you whisper. The weight of that choice is undeniable even if tempting because of how glorious a revenge it would be to do the same thing he did to you back to him. Just doing it back to him won’t fix what Jisung did to you, however, nor will it bring Hyunwoo back from that empty grave. “You sure are giving me a lot of choices for someone who is supposedly upset at me.”
“Hm, well, you are also not allowed to go back to the brig unsupervised from now on. Does that work for you? Ample punishment?”
“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Punishment is never effective for people like you, Y/N,” Hongjoong retorts. “It doesn’t encourage you to do better because you do not care about having to go through some sort of punishment. Keeping you from going to get san would only make you more likely to go against my orders. You are someone who needs different consequences for your actions. You don’t like being held back or feeling small and powerless? I strip you of what power you imagine yourself to have and hold you back from minute things like going to the brig alone.”
“That’s not true,” you scoff, arms coming up to cross over your chest at the same time.
“Oh? And what if I told you right now that I was disappointed in your actions last night? That I thought I could trust you to not make rash decisions, to think with your head and not your heart? I told you earlier that I still have qualms about how you handled Jisung and what effect that had on Seonghwa. Whatever respect I had for you before then was lost in that moment. You may have a sliver of my trust, but respect? You lack that entirely.”
“Don’t say meaningless things, Captain, it doesn’t suit you.” You bite the words out between gritted teeth. If anything, your show of anger only amuses Hongjoong further. “That means nothing to me, as I said before. Why should I care about your respect?”
“Do you truly mean that, Y/N? People like you thrive off the approval of others. Is that not why you let yourself be entangled with Seonghwa for so long? I wouldn’t expect those feelings of respect to linger if I were you.”
“Do you simply thrive on taunting me?” The counter betrays how stupidly affected you truly are by his statements and questions. And deep down, sure, you know he is absolutely correct in saying all that, and you blatantly ignored a lot of things in favor of latching onto the respect and care Seonghwa provided, but for someone as arrogant as Hongjoong to point it out? You hardly want to agree with him now.
“Follow me.”
You could stand your ground and deny the captain, put on a little tantrum and show your denial, but in the long run, that would only prove Hongjoong right. So, against what you truly want to do, you push your legs into action and trail after Hongjoong when he begins to step away from his chair. Admittedly, you are waiting for the hammer to drop: perhaps he’s bringing you to an airlock and finally knocking you out of it. Nothing happens though, and you are left to glare at the clacking heels of his boots as he leads you further down into the ship. It isn’t until you reach your destination that you realize exactly where Hongjoong has taken you.
It’s a rich form of torture from him, to take you to the brig as though to taunt you with your regrets from last night. He doesn’t even bat an eye as he lifts the hatch and motions for you to enter. At the very least, Jisung’s cell is empty (as expected) and he cannot add to the mockery of your pride and dignity.
The moment your boots hit the floor, the rattling of Seonghwa’s chains resound. Hongjoong follows, hitting louder than you did, then the hatch snaps shut and seals you inside the brig like it’s your doomsday.
“Y/N?” Seonghwa calls out. He must have felt the tug in his chest that you did when you hit the floor, the tiniest bit of connection holding the two of you together. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if Wooyoung perhaps felt the same just now.
Instead of finding you, however, Seonghwa is forced to greet Hongjoong first as the captain rounds the corner before you do.
“Joong…” Seonghwa starts, trailing off as he sees you standing just past the captain’s shoulder. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Hongjoong doesn’t answer immediately; he approaches Seonghwa’s cell and reaches a small hand between the bars to catch hold of his lieutenant’s chin. His grip isn’t tight or bruising, just enough to guide Seonghwa’s face up so he can look the other in the eye.
“What was it you told me last night after I dismissed Y/N?”
“…I would not repeat it in front of her, Captain.”
“You said you were scared. You were afraid of what you saw in her right then, that’s what you said. Was it not?”
“I — it was, yes, but I—"
“You told me that you saw a direct reflection of yourself in her. The version of yourself that you fear and hate the most. Did you or did you not say that?”
“Please, Hongjoong, is this not cruel?” Seonghwa begs. He doesn’t budge from Hongjoong’s grasp but he spares a few darting glances your way as he speaks. Hongjoong follows his line of sight to land on where you’re standing several feet away.
“This is a lesson in obedience for you, Y/N. You want to be feared? Fine, go out and be feared by our enemies. But your own crew should never be afraid of you. How do you expect them to trust something they fear?”
You clench your fists by your side. White-hot anger swells in your chest.
“That’s unfair. Do you say the same thing to Mingi?” You snap back, but you’re unable to bring yourself to look at Seonghwa.
“You are not Mingi, Y/N. Far from it actually. And as such I will not have my crew fear you or what you might do. You don’t care for my disappointment or respect? So be it. But I hope you dwell on the knowledge that Seonghwa, the man who knows you possibly better than anyone else on the crew, who has been with you intimately, laid with you in the most vulnerable positions possible, a man who has put his life and well-being in your hands, was afraid of you because of your actions last night.” Hongjoong’s fingers curl a little harder under Seonghwa’s chin, and the captain returns to staring the chained man in the eye when he speaks next. “I asked one thing of you last night, Y/N, and you promised to uphold it.”
“I am willing to trust you with this and with Seonghwa, at least for now. Take care to remember that, especially when it comes to Seonghwa’s heart. For if you mislead him in the slightest, there will be hell to pay.”
“Instilling fear into my lieutenant’s heart was a poor choice on your part.”
“It wasn’t — I didn’t choose to do that!”
“The ice under your feet is quickly cracking, Y/N, so I suggest you take great care with your next words and actions. Otherwise, I will make certain that your only purpose here is to be nothing but a key to my treasure.”
“Hongjoong, don’t you dare sa—”
His hold on Seonghwa disappears in a quick shove, the chains around Seonghwa’s neck rattling as he moves with the push. The lieutenant falls silent in an instant, and he squeezes his eyes shut as though to keep himself from fighting back. Your fists tighten by your sides but you don’t dare move when Hongjoong’s glare is so full of animosity that it could burn you from across the room.
“Be prepared to leave within the next thirty minutes before I change my mind about bringing you on this mission. The others will return soon.”
“Y/N — Hongjoong.” Seonghwa pushes himself up enough to stretch a hand through the bar and catch the end of Hongjoong’s coat tail. “Do not do this, please, this is far from what I wanted! You promised to protect her and—”
“And I am still protecting her. As long as she remains useful.”
“H-He, Y/N, he doesn’t — he’s not… that’s not what he means!”
“If you wish me to be your perfectly silent little weapon, Captain, then so be it,” you spit, ignoring Seonghwa’s pleas. Hongjoong yanks his jacket free of the man’s grasp and steps out of his reach. “But only because I benefit from this too. When it comes time for me to uphold my end of the bargain to Jisung, don’t expect me to be as willing to stay in your care.”
“Y/N, no, no, no—”
“You don’t get to talk, Seonghwa, not when you were the first to let me go.” That stops the lieutenant in his tracks because he knows you have him pinned there. Still, his jaw works in a hapless rhythm that leaves him with stuttering breaths and small noises of frustration.
“That was — that was before I-I knew what he was like, Y/N.”
“I won’t have this conversation in front of an audience, Seonghwa,” you mutter. It’s moreso an attempt to save yourself from the all too painful clench in your chest. If either man before you notices that, they opt not to comment on it, but Hongjoong gives a small shake of his head.
“Then you have thirty minutes to have it now. You had best be at the west airlock by then,” he says just before shoving past you with nothing more than a tiny glance back at Seonghwa. You are of half a mind to follow him out without a word, to leave Seonghwa where he is because you have been avoiding this exact conversation, but you can’t get your legs to function even after the hatch to the brig falls shut behind Hongjoong when he exits.
“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, Y/N, and you don’t—”
“That’s not the issue here, Seonghwa,” you interject before he can finish the thought. The next sound to leave his lips is a laugh but it sounds so heartless and void of life that guilt twinges in your chest.
“Is it because I said I was afraid of you? Or has your heart finally grown cold towards me as I expected it to from the start?”
“Don’t say that.” You intend for the words to come out with venom, but they sound more like a heartbroken plea than anything else. Seonghwa licks the edges of his dry and cracking lips. “Do you think I’m so cruel?”
“It… no, Y/N, I don’t. It’s because I don’t that I think it’s only a matter of time.” Seonghwa forces a hand up to curl into his dark locks, tugging at the strands at best he can as his chains rattle around him. “I think your heart is too big for your chest, just like San. And even if it was not my intention, I think I used that against you in many ways.”
“I was the one who initiated things, Seonghwa. I asked you to… to have sex with me and distract me. I used you to start with, so I know I carry blame as well.”
“I still pushed you even though I knew how much San means to you.”
“That…” You trail off only because emotion lodges so deep in your throat that it hurts. Swallowing it back down hurts even more, but you manage it without more than a grimace. “At the time, I didn’t realize what that meant or what he meant to me. Even now, I don’t think I fully grasp what my feelings are towards him. That doesn’t mean — I never resented you, and I still don’t.”
“Separation has the power to make us realize things we were blind to,” Seonghwa mutters back. “It made me realize I was unfair to you, even after I promised I would not have you unfairly.”
“I didn’t think it to be unfair.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t.”
“Why are you so desperate to be a martyr?”
“Why won’t you accept that I wronged you?”
“Do you want me to hate you?” You fire back, taking a quick step in Seonghwa’s direction. He straightens some and pulls himself to his knees.
“I don’t know how to fix the places where I went wrong. I… I wish to hear them from you if only to know that you know what I did wrong, or — or just understand that it’s not merely my mind trying to trick me.” Seonghwa looks weak again: pressed on his knees in a way that must hurt, head hanging to hide his eyes, fists clenched around the fabric of his pants. As confident and strong as he sounds, his posture only reads weakness.
“I never thought about it, Seonghwa,” you admit through the breath of silence that follows. “Perhaps we were both blind to it at the time because we — well, I thought you were all I had. I didn’t know what Wooyoung was at the time, I didn’t ever have another Siren in my life, and you were the first person I had with who I could share that burden. I understand withholding information about Wooyoung’s identity from the others, but why me? Especially given that you all knew there was some sort of connection between us. You still held that back from me until there was no more avoiding it. And you did the same with your… relationship with Hongjoong, and I’m not one to be jealous or demanding, but if you still loved him — and I think we both know how you feel about him even now — then I wish you had said that. I should have told you how I felt about San at the time as well, especially as I began to realize it more and more.”
“I would have told you about Wooyoung in an instant, I promise you that much, Y/N. If it had been my place, I would never have let you believe we were alone in that way. But Wooyoung was never ready to tell you until he didn’t have a choice any longer.”
“And as for your lingering feelings towards Hongjoong?”
“I should have told you sooner, yes. I truly believed… I didn’t imagine those feelings were still lingering until I was faced with almost losing him.” Seonghwa at last shifts his pathetic stance, folding his legs under his body until he’s in a more comfortable sitting position.
“When we talked about me leaving with Jisung, and — Seonghwa, you didn’t hesitate to say that your fate is to die at Hongjoong’s side. I just wanted you to ask me to stay. But you didn’t ask me to, and your first reaction wasn’t to do that either. You’ll never be mine, Seonghwa. Not completely, and… right now, in this present we’re living in, I don’t think you can ask me to be okay with that. If you love both of us, then so be it. I see no fault in that, and I’m not trying to say you are at fault for it either, but that moment hurt more than I think you realize.”
“Then I apologize,” he whispers. He lifts his chin just a hair, enough to look you in the eye and enough for you to see the steely resolution in his gaze.
“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”
“I believe there I need to apologize for many things. But primarily, I led you to believe I would be wholly yours knowing — knowing that I would never be able to give you that. Y/N, I did not lie to you once about how I felt. Even if my previous promises were empty in your eyes, please know I am genuine in saying that.”
“I’m sorry too, for not realizing my feelings sooner and leading you in a different direction all the while.”
“I have to respectfully disagree, Y/N.” Seonghwa smiles a little, although it’s a sad little grin that’s tight-lipped and doesn’t reach his eyes. “You didn’t lead me on, from my point of view. As you said, until Wooyoung’s revelation, you thought I was all you had. I think it was only natural for us to pursue each other on a physical level in that way. Feelings were bound to get complicated eventually. I knew they would because that’s how it was with Hongjoong so I… should have known earlier on.” Seonghwa lets out a shaky sigh. The smile crumbles and leaves no trace behind, only drifting into a thin line. “San cares about you a lot, Y/N, and I wish for you to have someone like him who can give you his all.”
“Bold of you to give such advice when you and Hongjoong continue to dance around each other,” you whisper through a grin. Either the words or the warmth of your tone bring a genuine huff of laughter out of Seonghwa’s chest.
“It’s what we do best. Yunho is good for him in lots of ways. He needs someone who can fuck with no strings attached and without feelings getting in the way of things. Yunho loves all of us in different ways, and how that love manifests is different for everyone as well. I cannot fault him for comforting Hongjoong the only way Hongjoong knows how.” Seonghwa squeezes his eyes shut, but the smile persists, and it looks more like he’s visiting an old memory somewhere in the back of his mind rather than that he is in pain. “Don’t worry about me, Y/N. You should focus on getting San back and making sure he does not slip through your fingers this time.”
“I think I’ll always worry about you, pretty boy.” You hate how fragile your tone is; there’s too much of a tremor to it, and you sound far too sad for the smile painting your lips.
“Always is a long time, princess.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I don’t mind always.” Seonghwa hums. It’s a content and pleased little sound, nothing indecent, yet his lips tremble even as he pushes his tongue between his teeth. If his eyes were open, you’re confident you would see red rimming his irises and clear tears ready to fall.
There is nothing left to say for now: maybe at some point in the future this is a conversation to revisit and resurrect, but now it’s final in a bittersweet sense. The feeling of walking away this time hurts more than it usually would, although you think you might be able to feel the ache in Seonghwa’s chest without being Sirens. There’s no use in wondering if he feels the ache in yours — the line between his pain and yours is a thin and blurring one, overlapping and twisting together with two threads of different colors. And if Seonghwa has always been a fire in your eyes, then his would be a bright red thread that twists around your finger and keeps you linked to him even as you leave the brig.
The time to feel sad and mourn the loss of whatever feelings lingered between you and Seonghwa is far from now. Perhaps that is cruel torture in and of itself. To lose the chance to mourn is something you think you’re familiar with, but there’s no guarantee that those memories are real. So instead of crying or letting the pain swell, you merely bite down hard on the tip of your tongue until that ache moves elsewhere. It’s enough for now; the thought of what your next mission is and how important it is chases all other thoughts away.
San has been gone long enough.
You’ll take him back if it’s the last thing you do.
“Y/N!”
That voice tears you free of the thoughts plaguing you, and you jolt to a halt in the middle of the hallway you’re currently standing in to find the source of the voice. There’s a flash of black before you. Panic thrums in your nerves, a quick fear that you might be under attack, but then something warm hits you. It’s like a wave, washing over your insides and dispelling that fear as quickly as it appeared.
“Wooyoung,” you exhale just before your eyes settle on his bright and smiling face.
“Mingi’s back, they got Mingi back! They’re coming in the airlock now, let’s go!” Wooyoung grins from ear to ear, the smile splitting his cheeks and making his face glow with joy. You let him grab hold of your wrist without complaint, and he tugs you further down the corridor. “They said he’s okay. Healthy too. Safe. He’s safe. They healed his wound at the warehouse to prep for his treatment, but Jongho and Yeosang got to him before they could hurt him any.”
“One step closer to having to leave,” you murmur, moreso to yourself than to the man before you. He picks up on the words nonetheless, and his hurried steps slow to a dragging walking pace that has you regretting opening your mouth.
“What?” He asks. The smile falls into a deep-seated frown, and you hate it. You hate it so much. The idea of leaving them like this, even if Hongjoong swore not to let you go, you don’t see any other way for this to end peacefully. The only way for everyone involved to come out of this safe and in one piece is for you to go along with your deal with Jisung.
“Nothing,” you whisper. Wooyoung tightens his fingers around your wrist.
“No, what do you mean by that? Having to leave?”
“Oh, come on, Wooyoung,” you laugh through your teeth. “Did you think there was no cost for getting the three of you back? Let’s just go see Mingi. We don’t need to talk about this now.” You try to pull your arm free of Wooyoung’s grip to no avail. All he does is yank you back to face him when you step around his body.
“What did you do?”
“What I had to, Wooyoung. He wasn’t going — he wouldn’t have helped us find you without a price.”
“And the price was you?” Wooyoung cries, loud enough to echo off the metal around your forms. “He doesn’t get to own you, Y/N!”
“It’s not ownership. I’ll go along with him long enough to — to figure something out, then I’ll leave and—”
“And what? You think a man like that will just let you leave?”
“Look, Wooyoung, I knew what I was getting into. I agreed to it myself because I wanted to and because it was the closest thing to a guarantee of your safety, as well as San’s and Mingi’s. If this is the price for your lives, then so be it. It’s okay.”
“Like hell it is. He’ll get my fist put through his throat for even thinking about it,” Wooyoung hisses, nose scrunching up as his face contorts into a scowl. You have to bite your tongue to keep from rolling your eyes.
“I don’t need you to protect me.”
“Too fucking bad.” Wooyoung shoves your arm down with a huff. You don’t even have a second to breathe before he’s rushing back down the hall, continuing your path from earlier and moving so quickly that you have to jog to catch up to him.
“You’re mad at me for saving your life?” You retort to his back. It does nothing to stop him, and the only reaction you get out of him at first is the tension in his shoulders. “As I recall, you threw yourself down for San and Mingi while captured!”
“That was to fucking protect all of us! I knew what I was doing, I knew I would be safe, and I knew they couldn’t hurt me any more than I’ve hurt myself, Y/N.” Wooyoung reels on you just before turning the corner at the end of the corridor. The rage in his expression is more than you can handle, much more intense than you imagined it would be. “We may be similar — we might have pieces of our pasts that line up and mirror each other. But don’t think for a fucking second that I’m supposed to roll over and let you do what I would do. I’m stupid, I’m a fucking idiot, I’ll take whatever punishment I think I can to protect people, and I always fucking go too far. You are going too far. And I refuse to let some asshole with a god complex pretend like he has the power to own another human being. You might be okay with the idea of it, you might think it isn’t as bad as you imagine it to be, but as for me? I refuse to let you lose your freedom. I will put myself on the line any day before I let anything happen to this crew.”
Your jaw stutters dumbly as you struggle to come up with a counterattack. Wooyoung doesn’t wait for you to figure one out either; he returns to his stampede down the hall and leaves you to play catch up once more. And admittedly, by the time you do catch up, there is nothing you could possibly do to keep him from reaching his end goal. Someone opens their mouth to greet him, but you don’t even have time to process whose voice it is before they’re cut short by Wooyoung’s next move.
“Wooyo—”
Wooyoung’s knee careens into a body and hits so hard that body crumples in half. It’s only when Wooyoung threads his fingers through dark hair and yanks upwards that you catch who exactly it is. Jisung stumbles with the motions, chains rattling and shaking as he does. Wooyoung gives him only a second to catch his breath before he’s shoving Jisung face first into the metal wall.
“Hi there,” Wooyoung huffs with another tug to Jisung’s scalp. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting officially yet. You’ve been quite lucky to be in the care of such merciful people.”
“You can’t possibly be the mongrel Y/N has been so distressed about, can you?” Jisung spits over his shoulder. Wooyoung grins wide at that, cheeks pressing upwards and eyes turning to half-moons.
“No.” Another harsh shove and Jisung’s head bounces against the wall. “No, Jisung, I’m the man who is going to make you regret every second of life you’ve had if you even think about laying another finger on her.”
You tug your stare off the pair to glance around, mostly in search of Mingi, and as Wooyoung said, the Berserker does seem relatively safe and unharmed. Almost like he wasn’t even gone aside from a fading bruise on his cheekbone. He’s got one hand balled into a fist and the other tucked into the safety of Jongho’s palm. It’s not enough of a guarantee that he’s okay mentally and emotionally, but at least seeing him visibly alright is reassuring in and of itself. Yeosang stands close to Hongjoong, unmoving and staring forward at Wooyoung without trying to stop him. Hongjoong himself doesn’t do anything either, and you realize then that this is a moment of retribution for all of them in some way. Even me, you think as Jisung writhes under Wooyoung’s tightening grip.
“Get in line then,” he manages to hiss, even if it’s muffled by the wall. “These three dumbasses already left me with many colorful threats the entire way back here.”
“Oh, I will, but you should be aware that there is one person at the end of that line who will end your life in a heartbeat for even thinking you could own Y/N. And he’s about to come back to this very ship that you’re trapped on. So how about you start barking again and see what happens?”
Hongjoong finally pulls forward, and when he does, he wears a wide smile and folds his arms over his chest. He only steps forward enough to lurk just past Wooyoung’s shoulder, standing with a slight tilt so he can look at Jisung out the corner of his eye.
“Checkmate, Han. Let’s see what good your dogs can do with their king backed into a corner.”
✧✧✧
a/n: oakyoakyokayokayo so admittedly i ended up splitting this chapter up and moving the second half of it to the NEXT chapter bc yeah this one would have been over 20k if i didn’t whoopsie! but here we are lots of talking ! in this one, the action comes in the next one bc of the way i shifted things so eheheheh :3 the next might comes sooner than usual we shall see ;) as always ! let me know what u think n how u feel !
taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @icekdy @eggteez @bangtanxberm @uglychildd @lucymultistan @revehosh @choistan @vampyrejimin @unminuit @vitaminkel-c
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#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez fluff#ateez angst#mists of celeste#mingi x reader#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#yeosang x reader#jongho x reader#san x reader#wooyoung x reader#yunho x reader#ateez angst fluff smut#ateez series#ateez pirates#ateez space pirates
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What Does It Mean to Save?
I keep seeing it said that Deku, Ochaco, and Shouto will “save” Shigaraki, Himiko, and Dabi, but that there will be no redemption and/or no survival for them. I’m truly not trying to vague these posts and everyone is entitled to their opinion, but literary criticism is fundamentally responsive so I’m writing this anyways.
I personally think that’s not BNHA’s definition of saving nor of redemption. So here, have a deep dive into literary tropes related to redemption, genre, and character arcs as they pertain to BNHA and the question of: what does it mean to save Shigaraki, Touya, and Himiko?
Before we begin, let me say that while we might be personally uncomfortable with redemption (there’s a redemption arc in BNHA I am personally quite uncomfortable with), that doesn’t inherently mean the narrative won’t go there. The key principle I’m operating on here is BNHA’s message that heroes save people. It’s held up as the highest ideal.
So let’s talk redemption in BNHA-verse. With this guy, whose redemption arc I dislike in principle but accept as part of the story so don’t come for me stans and/or antis. I’m analyzing because it shows us what redemption means in BNHA-verse, whether or not that is satisfying to you personally as it fits/does not fit with your own morality/philosophy.
If Endeavor can be redeemed and live, and he’s Bakugou’s negative foil, I highly doubt Shigaraki and Deku as well as Touya and Shouto and Ochaco and Himiko will be any different. Why? Because Enji is an adult character. The others--well, Himiko’s age we don’t know, but we do know that Shigaraki and Dabi are technically adults. But does the story consider them adults?
(It doesn’t.)
Child-coded characters are generally more likely to survive a redemption, which I’ll explain more later. First I have to define what I mean by child-coding, because I DO NOT mean this in the way it’s often (mis)used in fandom wank. Child-coding is a real thing, but it is not done to infantilize and it has nothing to do with shipping.
Child coding frames the character as a child for a few narrative purposes to convey a story’s theme or purpose. For example, if it’s a coming of age story coding a character as a child even if they legally are not emphasizes their journey to an understanding of self-actualization, or a true understanding of self with self-awareness and an understanding of self-value. An example of an adult coded as a child is The Kite Runner, wherein Amir is a legal adult for half the story, even married for fifteen years so we’re talking 30s-40s, but he does not truly become an adult until he returns to his homeland and takes responsibility for a childhood sin. In Attack on Titan, the main characters are now nineteen, but are still struggling to take responsibility as adults and have only started doing so now that their mentors/parental figures have started dying.
Along those lines, in any kind of story, you can code a character as a child of someone, regardless of biological relationship, to convey the type of relationship they have (usually a mentor one). For an example of this, see Bungo Stray Dogs’ Dazai and Akutagawa. Despite their two year age difference, Dazai recruited him to the mafia, abandoned him, and Akutagawa desperately seeks his approval. Usually in these stories a character will “overcome” their parental figure. This can be done through overcoming their need for the parental figure’s approval in stories where the parental figure is kindly (such as in Harry Potter, when in the final book Harry, Ron, and Hermione leave the Weasleys to find the Horcruxes despite Mrs. Weasley’s please) or through like, killing/stopping/leaving the parental figure when they are abusive (see fairy tales like Rapunzel and Cinderella). The parental link to self-actualization is because it is childlike (and a part of actual psychology that is reflected in literature) to see yourself as a part of your parent; self-actualized person would see yourself as a distinct person from your parent, but also acknowledge the ways in which they’ve shaped you.
So, how do you code a character as a child? BNHA isn’t subtle about it, because Horikoshi seldom is subtle about anything. The villain trio are all coded as children.
Shigaraki Tomura:
Who cannot achieve self-actualization so long as AFO has access to his body, as he’s literally trying to possess him. He’s trying, but it’s not gonna work because Shigaraki can’t keep AFO and become an adult at the same time. It’s a choice the narrative is setting up: your dream of destroying, or your freedom? (To get the latter, he’ll probably have to destroy AFO).
Todoroki Touya, who is repeatedly emphasized as a small child when compared to his siblings, and yes, I know he’s now tall. Specifically he’s spotlighted as the child of Endeavor:
And he’s the least self-actualized one in a lot of ways, contradicting himself constantly. I’m not Endeavor, DUH! But these are Endeavor’s flames! He’s gonna have to choose one or the other, because the tragic irony is that the more he takes out his rage on those around him, the more like Endeavor he becomes.
And Toga Himiko (who might well literally be a legal child), who is actually the most self-actualized one thus far, because she rejects Curious’s child insistence (Curious holds her in a Pieta pose, based on Michelangelo’s statue wherein Mary holds a deceased Christ):
She’s still got, like, a way to go though:
Because Himiko also wants to be like the people she loves to the point where she loses her own identity in them, which is er, not self-actualization. So she’ll have to choose whether or not she really wants to be like the people she loves or whether she wants to live her own way, which she herself tells us how that would end (death):
Deku said it himself: it’s good to focus on what someone is doing now. And look, I have issues with this statement and how it’s framed. I’ve talked about it at length and it was doomed to fail because Shouto himself told us long ago that it was annoying to hear a righteous speech by a stranger when you hadn’t gone through the same, plus Endeavor kinda failed by choosing being a hero over a dad here. But, the principle is that if the past doesn’t preclude Endeavor from seeking a better self, why would it preclude three characters coded as children, one of whom is literally somewhat the product of Endeavor’s sins? BNHA doesn’t think the past keeps someone from a better future.
So what about Dabi’s counterpoint, which is indeed valid? Well, redemption doesn’t mean the past forgets, either. It’s complicated and nuanced, and we can debate how well Horikoshi strikes this nuance (it’s got its flaws), and admittedly I don’t know how this will go down in the future. But it is asking Endeavor: how do you redeem yourself to the people you’ve hurt? And we have Endeavor asking this question to Touya’s shrine. I mean, the foreshadowing is obvious. Endeavor has to redeem himself by trying to save Touya. However, it will still probably come down to Shouto to save Touya.
For our three villains, it’s a little harder to predict... well, sort of. For Shigaraki it’s extremely obvious: he has to help take down AFO. Dabi probably has to do something to help his family (siblings probably), but it’s vague. Toga needs help and not condemnation, but presumably she’ll help Ochaco with something.
So, is this redemption? I’d define it as redemption in the eyes of the narrative. To address what makes a redemption is another essay unto itself, but if we bring in the oft-compared Star Wars example: did Darth Vader get a redemption? Did Ben Solo? Everyone says yes to both. However, only Luke witnesses Vader’s redemption, and only Rey Ben Solo’s. So the rest of the galaxy? Doesn’t think so. When I say they’ll be redeemed, I’m defining it as their role in the eyes of the narrative, not whether or not society will accept them or even whether their victims will forgive them (of note, in canonical novels, Leia never forgave Darth Vader despite learning he was her father and obviously knowing Luke’s account of his redemption was true).
So, redemption in a narrative doesn’t mean all of society has to forgive and accept them. Dabi has still like, murdered 30 people--many of whom were thugs, but he himself acknowledges they didn’t deserve to die. Additionally, he himself also acknowledges that the families left behind--their feelings matter:
But why does that mean they have to die? Why even does it mean they have to languish in prison forever? (If there’s even a safe prison at the end of BNHA which I kinda have doubts about.) Heroes have also killed: see Hawks as Exhibit A. In fact, some people want revenge on the heroes precisely because they arrested or killed their loved ones (jail isn’t held up as a rehabilitative place in BNHA’s world. In most countries it isn’t in real life, either, but again that’s for another essay). So why don’t the League’s feelings on Twice’s death matter just as much as the feelings of unnamed and unseen (and thereby less important narratively) characters?
Additionally, regarding death... the villains routinely get called on their death wishes. Himiko’s determination to decide how/when she dies is called out because this is right before Twice overcomes his trauma to save her, and the next arc they appear in is when Twice dies trying to save her again. Dabi’s suicide wish keeps him from getting close to others, and it keeps getting thwarted. Shigaraki’s obsession with destruction and death is clearly not a good thing, and his rejection of his family’s desire for them to join him in death this past arc is growth.
In other words: what Dabi said and what Snatch said about families and how they feel matter for the villains too. The villains are their own weird found family (Dabi as the deadbeat prodigal brother of both his families). Their deaths--Magne’s and Twice’s thus far, and I’m not ruling out further deaths in the future--affect the others. People’s feelings on losing loved ones matter. The villains are people, as Himiko said herself this arc:
Their feelings about each other matter:
How would Touya dying affect the Todorokis? At least they saved him spiritually, I guess, but that’s absolutely lame narratively, and if you have Enji eventually do a sacrifice to save Dabi (pretty likely, even if I personally think Enji will survive said sacrifice) then what’s the point of Dabi dying? How would Himiko dying affect society? As a martyr like Curious wanted her to be, even a redeemed one? A tragic warning story? What even is the point of Ochaco saving her if that’s the case? If Shigaraki dies, well, who would mourn besides Deku? How would Shigaraki dying affect the surviving members of the league? He just couldn’t be saved physically?
It’s not impossible some of this happens, but it doesn’t seem like great writing, especially with panels like, oh, these that show us BNHA’s perspective on death:
Sacrificing something is a type of death that occurs in stories; this should happen in a redemption arc, which is why I’ve been saying Enji needs to sacrifice his hero reputation to help save Touya and even then it’ll still be Shouto imo who does the saving. But physical death?
If you want further analysis of the latter two panels and how they relate to the ending, see here.
We already have another villain who will definitely die redemptively (Kurogiri--an adult coded character--because he’s already, like, dead), and Spinner and Mr. Compress aren’t coded as kids so I hold them with anxiety towards the end. But again, this isn’t me being ageist or saying this is the way things ought to be in fiction or real life: it’s me looking at writing tropes and saying that child-coded characters tend to survive their redemptions. See: Zuko. Why? Because the death of children or child-coded characters is a tragedy. When a child-coded character dies redemptively it doesn’t feel like a happy ending and if framed as such, it’s often criticized for bad writing (see: Ben Solo). Curious even called this out in her fight with Himiko. I would hope Horikoshi doesn’t end the story being like yeah Curious was right that’s the best use of Himiko’s/Dabi’s/Shigaraki’s arcs:
Additionally, as for the believability of a character getting a new chance after so much destruction and murder... well, it’s kinda a thing in shonen and even in seinen? For better or for worse, it’s a thing. We have Vegeta in Dragon Ball Z and Kaneki Ken in Tokyo Ghoul (Kaneki, by the way, is absolutely an inspiration for Shigaraki). We can debate how well-written these redemptions are (I personally have been quite critical of Kaneki’s despite wanting it to happen narratively), but it can be done. BNHA’s Japan especially isn’t as harsh a world as Tokyo Ghoul’s Japan, so it would make even more sense for something like Kaneki’s ending.
The reality is that the cycle of revenge via hurting people and then leaving hurting families and loved ones has to stop somewhere. Someone has to be the bigger person and step up and be like “naw.” That’s heroic. That’s brave. That’s sacrificial itself. Justice itself doesn’t really exist in its purest form without mercy.
There’s another genre-reason I don’t see death or jail as likely (I could see, like, maybe a mental health ward like Rei’s? But it’s too soon to speculate).
If saving is considered a good thing for the story, if it’s truly the highest ideal, then saving someone should be rewarded by the narrative. The characters who save should have a positive result to show us this a good thing.
This is why it doesn’t work for the heroes’ end journey to be accepting that some people cannot be saved. The notion of just accepting that you cannot do something, you cannot save everyone, you cannot, cannot, cannot, is called out as a flaw of society. Determination, on the other hand, is rewarded.
We see it with Deku as well as with Mirio.
So, what if they save them and the redeemed characters then go on to sacrifice themselves in their redemption and die (come to the same end)? If saving changes absolutely nothing for the saved person, if it’s too late for the saved from themselves to change and/or do anything that matters besides die, then the narrative theme of saving as important is left unemphasized at best and undermined at worst. Simple intrinsic knowledge that the kids “did the right thing” doesn’t cut it for a story with so much focus on physical saving when the kids are already doing the right thing; moral struggles about whether to choose to be good aren’t really Deku, Ochaco, or Shouto’s arcs. It works for Aizawa’s arc with Kurogiri, but not for the kiddos. If BNHA was more of a philosophical/spiritual text, that would indeed make sense, but it is not. Genre-wise, BNHA is a fantastical superhero optimistic story, not a gritty real-world set drama.
#bnha meta#mha meta#bnha 295#mha 295#deku#league of villains#shigaraki tomura#shimura tenko#todoroki shouto#todoroki touya#todoroki enji#endeavor#todoroki family#toga himiko#all for one#afo#uraraka ochako#bakugou katsuki#aizawa shouta#bnha theory#mha theory#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#midoriya izuku#kurogiri
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HWASAN [MYG] 🐉
SUMMARY: Yoongi, the only dragon hybrid to exist, has done a lot to escape the life he has been put into. He killed those who held him just to run away, to have the chance of living a life he’s been longing to have for years. Even after switching continents, they seem to be after him, hunting him. When he meets you, he knows you’re one of them and there’s only one way to survive - to kill you.
GENRE: smut 🐉 angst 🐉 action 🐉 fluff-ish
WORD COUNT: 11k
WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, mentions of murder and blood, violence, Yoongi rides a motorbike, cursing, blowjobs, fingering, Yoongi has claws and fangs, temperature play, his cum tastes different, choking, fighting for dominance, unprotected sex, breeding kink, Yoongi is stubborn but soft, fox hybrid!taehyung and i’m so soft for him
AUTHOR’S NOTE: It is finally here, my part of The Hybrid Collab! I can’t even tell you how excited I am to post this after months of planning. I think everyone agrees with me that the thought of Dragon!Yoongi is too much to handle. I had this idea in my mind for as long as Daechwita has been around now-it just took me a while to write it sksks.
I’d also love to thank @spicykoreantatertots & @yeojaa for betaing this fic and helping me with it.
@kimtaehyunq Mags, tysm for designing this beautiful banner for me! Also; thanks for listening to my rambling and keeping up with me and this fic. It was so much fun cooperating your Taehyung into it, I love him. :(
NOW LET’S GET STARTED.
Running was all Yoongi had done for months now.
Running away from those he killed.
Running away from those who wanted him to get killed.
Running away from those that held him ever since he was little, that taught him how to fight and kill.
Running away from those that made him a murderer.
Running away from Kkangpae.
Yoongi hates running (especially running away), but he had no other choice. He had to leave his home country behind and never go back, finding himself a new place to live instead. He should feel guilty, he regretted all his actions but by now, he only feels relief.
Kkangpae treated him like a fucking animal, like a worthless pet. He wasn’t treated like any human being should be treated; he didn’t even have a real bed.
All because Yoongi was a dragon hybrid, the rarest hybrid species on earth.
The lack of volcanoes in South Korea were the reason why Yoongi was highly valuable to the Kkangpae, because active volcanoes were one of the requirements for dragons to get born. As far as Yoongi knows, there’s only one volcano in South Korea: Ch’uga-ryong, a volcano that hasn’t been active for around five hundred years.
Around that time, the dragon species became extinct due to a natural disaster that Yoongi didn’t know anything about - because he was still sleeping peacefully in his comfortable egg, buried deep beneath the lava.
Yoongi’s mother, a purebred dragon, died during the catastrophe, and she was not able to protect the egg. Because of this, his body was not able to develop the way it should have. His egg was found hundreds of years later by scientists. They used newly invented technology to develop the preserved egg and mix human genes into it. Shortly after that process was complete, Yoongi hatched.
Yoongi has never met another dragon hybrid in his life. Maybe he was the only one in existence, maybe other scientists created them the same way as he was created. Even if they existed, they’re probably held the same way he was held - captured by some sort of underground gang and treated like shit.
Yoongi hated it, hated the way he wasn’t even a real creature, that he was built instead of born and that he was sold to Kkangpae to be their guard dog. Even though he was a dragon, well he was supposed to be a dragon, those fucking scientists pulled some weird Jurassic Park shit on him. Did humans even believe in dragons? To most of them he was nothing more than a myth, some creature from a fairytale.
Yoongi almost screams in frustration as his memories hit him once again.
The night he decided to end it all, to kill everyone he finds comes back into his vision almost every time he closes his eyes. Because hell, he was a great fighter, the best assassin anyone could ever train and he never failed an attempt of murder. Ever since then, his nights are based on either nightmares or hectic rides on his bike, this is why he lives on coffee and energy drinks even though they're too sweet for his taste, they keep him awake. If he stops to sleep, the memories, the dreams will return in full force.
During that time, Yoongi tries not to stop in motels because:
1. he can’t afford them
2. he shouldn’t waste time on sleep if he can spend them driving down the highway on his motorcycle instead, getting as much distance between South Korea and himself as quickly as possible.
As a dragon hybrid, Yoongi has several magic powers that typical hybrids don’t have, simply because his body doesn’t work like other hybrid bodies; he is born a dragon. Most of his genetics are dragon-like even though he’s now trapped inside a mostly human body. The only features that give off his inhuman origin are his eyes, green and purple irises, swirling around like lava, never resting. Some scales are splattered around his skin, but almost all of them are well hidden under his clothes - and Yoongi is glad that he can hide that feature because of the weird looks he would get if he had scales on his face or hands; no thanks.
That, and the fact that he can extend claws from his “normal” fingernails, which is quite useful in fights… and during other situations.
One of Yoongi’s biggest advantages is the ability of changing his body temperature to the extreme - whether it’s hot or cold. If he wanted to burn you, he could; if he wanted to feel cold as ice, he could do that as well. He used that power a lot back when he was a little dragon, not wanting to be touched by humans that didn’t have his trust - not that any human has ever earned his trust - so he easily increased his body temperature until those who touched him left with blisters all over their hands.
People always think that dragons have the ability to spit fire, but apparently dragon hybrids can't. All Yoongi was able to do was spit acidic saliva with the ability to burn through all kinds of fabric and material (he even melted a spoon once because he hated the soup he had to eat) and whenever he was really angry, smoke would blow right out of his nostrils.
Kkangpae should’ve known better than to train him until he was invincible. Until he was stronger than them, until he was able to ruin them one by one.
It didn’t even take Yoongi an entire night to kill those who had held him his entire life, which made him Kkangpae’s enemy number one. He obviously didn’t get to kill each member, but he managed to ruin the leftovers by killing their boss, his wife and brother. The golden three, no longer golden anymore.
Which meant one thing: running away. Leaving South Korea with nothing but his motorcycle and never, ever, coming back. Yoongi doesn’t know if he will ever get to settle down somewhere or even where to go next, he just knows that he will never be able to come back to where he originated.
He has been in the United States for almost three months now, after secretly hitching a ride on a very disgusting container ship. In the beginning, he didn’t know where his adventure would bring him, but he has seen some beautiful places here.
Yoongi even visits some of the biggest volcanoes in the country (he hates the volcanic mountains in Alaska, though, because the air outside is colder than what he is used to and Yoongi hates the feeling of icy air after a nice long nap in the comfortable lava) to spend some time relaxing his sore muscles. He just left his favorite volcano ever, the Yellowstone in the Rocky Mountains, a week ago and he really misses napping there, but if Kkangpae would ever look for him in the US, volcanoes would probably be an obvious spot to check for a dragon hybrid.
Now Yoongi is here in a cute little suburb that he doesn't even know the name of. Small droplets of rain are blocking the view from his motorcycle helmet and his gas tank is on low, so he decides to stop by the next available gas station and grab some hot coffee on his way to the bordering highway.
Yoongi didn't bring a crazy amount of baggage from Korea, because it's obviously difficult to ride a motorbike with an abundance of luggage. Instead he sticks to a simple black backpack with some clothes, money that he stole from Kkangpae, his phone, and an old notebook he uses to scribble down places he’s heard of during his trip.
Even though the gas station is quite empty, Yoongi acts out of instinct and pulls his cap lower into his face, hiding his shimmering eyes and starts to fuel his tank, looking around to check if someone has recognized him. Nobody catches his attention, until a girl on another motorbike stops to get some gas as well. Yoongi scrunches his nose, thinking that his bike was the only one in a suburb like this - because to be honest, he spent a lot of money on it, on spraying it matte black (instead of the bright teal it had before he ran away) and a bigger engine. It isn’t one of the luxurious Korean brands, but a MV Agusta F4 LH44, an expensive ass bike that Kkangpae gave him for jobs out of their area.
This girl though, she rides a fucking Kawasaki Ninja, one of the fastest - and most expensive - bikes out there. He only has eyes for her machine, but once she pulls off her helmet letting her messy hair fall over her back and turns around to the gas pump, he inhales sharply.
She’s Korean. She’s fucking Korean and she rides a fucking expensive bike.
To Yoongi it can only mean one thing: Kkangpae. But, would they really send a girl after him, a powerful dragon hybrid? Probably not. The girl hums some unknown melody as she fuels her bike, looking around as well. Yoongi makes sure that she doesn’t catch a glimpse of his eyes as he turns around to pay.
But the girl is right behind him, he can feel her body temperature on his sensitive skin and as he walks past her, he can smell something vaguely familiar. That’s when he decides to pull off a classic Joe Goldberg, waiting for the girl some streets down the road and follows her as inconspicuously as possible.
The girl comes to a quicker halt than Yoongi is expecting - simply because he didn’t like to stop more often than necessary -, but he’s quick to park his bike and follow the girl into the establishment she walks in. Bread, Sweets and Treats, says the small sign and Yoongi cringes. Who would come up with such a name? Is the owner inspired by this one Korean band that has a track with a similar name? Yoongi shakes his head to get rid of the distracting thought, instead putting his cap back on and stepping into the café.
She is nowhere to be seen, probably sitting in some booth further back, but as soon as Yoongi attempts to stride through the café, the girl behind the counter smiles at him.
“Hi, I’m Yura! What can I get you?”
He really wants to reply with “nothing.” But the smell of coffee lingers in his nose and who would Yoongi be to decline such a chance? “Just one regular coffee, black, please.”
He pays quickly, just slapping some notes onto the counter as he looks around once more.
“There’s a few empty tables in the back, go and sit down, relax a bit and I will be there with your coffee as soon as possible!”
That finally gives Yoongi the chance he’s been waiting for, strolling through the café to find the mysterious girl and once he has an eye on her, he sits down three tables to her right. She’s on her phone, taking sips of some hot beverage but takes nervous looks around the café from time to time and Yoongi wonders if she has seen him as well.
“Your coffee!” The barista smiles at Yoongi and places the hot mug in front of him. “Are you sure that you don’t want anything else? You look quite tired and I bet some pastries can help with that!”
Yoongi tries to crack a smile, but he knows people are most likely afraid once they lock eyes with him, but it seems like that his eyes aren’t anything that scares the friendly girl as he mutters a soft “I’m fine, thank you.”
He dares to take another look to his left, a silent gasp leaving his lips. There, on her right arm, is a tattoo of a dragon crawling up to her elbow. The symbol of Kkangpae, inked right into her skin. Yoongi’s assumptions were correct, she is one of those bastards and the only reason she’s here must be to kill him. But Yoongi isn’t one to have that, he’ll be quicker.
Patience is key, he reminds himself as he slowly sips his coffee, keeping an eye on that girl as he thinks about that one night again.
Things happen quickly then, the girl stands up and leaves to go to the restroom, but as soon as Yoongi plans to follow her, an elderly lady goes in there as well.
He sighs, pulling off his cap just to run his hands through his hair before quickly putting it back on, covering his eyes as much as possible. The hunter's knife in his boots feels heavy, ready to be used, but Yoongi doesn’t want to make a scene right here. It would cause more trouble than being effective - and he couldn’t find out more about Kkangpae’s plans in the middle of a café. On the other hand, Yoongi can’t risk losing her, that’s why he acts out of instinct once she comes back from the bathroom.
She makes her way past his table, Yoongi stands up quickly to follow her - and once she’s near the exit, he jumps onto her, slamming his full body weight against her smaller frame and smashes her into one of the tables, the wood breaking under their combined weights. His claws are out and he can feel his skin burning up during his rage as he snarls a low, “What’s your name? What are you doing here and where are the others?” at her.
She must be a tough one though, because even if she’s scared, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she glares up at him. “Why would I tell someone that attacks me in the middle of a coffee shop my name? Fuck, get off of me, you freak! What even are you?”
Yoongi smirks, pushing her even further into the remains of the table. “Min Yoongi, I think I ruined a bit of your family business.”
Now, her eyes widen in shock as she tries to get out of his burning grip around her throat once more. “You don’t have to kill me”, she whispers. “I don’t belong to them. Not anymore. After you killed my father and my uncle, I knew it would be the best to get out of it as well, trust me!”
Yoongi laughs, head thrown back - and it looks kind of funny, because there’s a little cloud of smoke coming out of his nose - before looking back down at her. “I’ve learned one thing in my life and that’s to never trust anyone. Especially not when they’re wearing that cute little dragon tattoo on their arm. Sorry, but I guess you have to die too.”
An annoyingly high-pitched scream causes Yoongi to lose his guard for one second, giving the girl the chance she needs to break free from his grip. "Stop it, please," one of the baristas pleads, trying to calm some of the nervous customers down. Yoongi looks at him for a second, smirking as he sees the obvious features only mouse hybrids have.
The dragon hybrid snarls, showing off some of his sharper teeth as he grips his target again. "Don't you dare make a scene, mousey. It's been a while since I had one of your ancestors for lunch, you know? And I haven't eaten in quite some time." Then, he turns around to the girl. "I'm sorry love, but this situation is getting a bit out of hand." He uses his foot on her chest to keep her in place as he grabs his favorite knife that's been sitting in his boot the entire trip, just waiting to be finally used.
Fate isn't on Yoongi's side today as another one of the baristas yells at him, running past some other tables to get to where Yoongi is standing.
Yoongi groans, pressing the heel of his foot deeper into the girl's chest. "You stay there, little one, okay?" She doesn't answer, just grits her teeth to compensate for the ache in her body. The mouse hybrid freezes on the spot, staring at the scene in front of him. Then, Yoongi turns around to the new voice. "What do you want now, I'm busy and I really need to go after this, so would you let me do my job, please?" The irritation isn’t easy to miss, but Yoongi's patience has always been rather low and he prefers to get over this before the rest of Kkangpae arrives as well. "I don't belong to them anymore, fucking hell!" The girl yells once more, nails digging into Yoongi's jeans-clad calf.
“I’m the manager,” the other barista slash manager says, “You have two seconds before I call the police. Get the hell –“ Yoongi gets ready to leave yet another snarky remark as a rather lean looking guy pushes her behind his frame.
“I’ve heard rumors about your existence, I was skeptical about it – but anything is possible from where you came from.”
Yoongi’s eyes scan the stranger, thinking about how high his chances are to win another fight when he realizes that he’s one of the rarest hybrid breeds, not a regular fox but a canadian marble fox - which are often held for their beautiful fur.
He has been living with one of those in the Kkangpae mansion, the fox hybrid was more likely the opposite of Yoongi’s reason to be there: Yoongi was being held to fight, the fox was a lapdog, bought to look pretty in the leader's wife's lap.
The man in front of him has similar ears, grey with black tips and his amber eyes remind him of the old fox as well. Yoongi tilts his head in visible confusion as he locks eyes with the man.
“I’m not one of them, my name’s Y/N! I’ve heard that you killed my father, my uncle and his wife so I used the chance and ran off, I didn’t know I’d see you here as well, Yoongi! Please, just fucking listen!”, the girl, Y/N, pleads with tears brimming in her eyes.
“Yoongi, is it? Listen. You can’t do that here, I know what you did to those who held you, but this isn’t the right place!”, the fox hybrid chimes in again. Yoongi’s head moves up and down, he doesn’t know who he should listen to, but he came for this one mission: killing Y/N.
“Shut up, all of you!” He screams out of frustration, the knife starting to melt in his hands because of the unbearable heat radiating from his body. Yoongi drops the now useless weapon to the floor, the weight of his boot no longer suffocating the girl beneath him. She coughs a few times, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, trying to relax her wildly beating heart, but Yoongi doesn’t care about her right now. Instead, he locks eyes with the fox hybrid. “Who are you?” His voice is low, quiet, actually, because Yoongi doesn’t trust it enough to speak up.
“I’m from the Kim lineage”, the hybrid says with raised hands, probably to prove that he’s no danger to Yoongi. “Trust me, I know a lot about our individual histories.” Yoongi breathes through his nose, another tiny cloud of smoke leaving his nostrils as he finally steps back from Y/N. “Kim, as in Kim Jiho? That can’t be it. You’re related to him?”
He eyes the other man skeptically, not really sure whether to believe him or not. He doesn’t even look at Y/N who’s been standing but not running away yet.
The other hybrid's answer shocks Yoongi, his eyes widening as he sees the frown on his face, combined with soft ears flopping down sadly. "That's my father."
The woman behind the Kim hybrid whispers something into his ear, causing the man to nod as he looks back at Yoongi, but aIso at Y/N. "Let's just take this outside, we can talk out there."
Yoongi's eyes flicker between the hybrid and Y/N, then he nods slowly whilst pressing out a low "fine".
Just as Y/N starts walking past him he grabs her wrist and pulls her closer, whispering into her ear. "If you try to run off, I'll be right behind you, ready to rip your guts out." As if to prove his point, Yoongi heats his skin up once again, burning Y/N's wrist before smiling sweetly at her and following the fox hybrid out of the café.
The hybrid, who introduces himself as Kim Taehyung, offers refuge to Yoongi and Y/N at his secret bunker in the nearby mountains. He uses the space to hide during emergencies. It isn’t anything special, it is a literal fox burrow with furniture which totally confirms the impression Yoongi has on Taehyung’s style: simple, yet elegant.
Yoongi is even allowed to eat some of Taehyung’s self grown variety of exotic fruits that he is extremely proud of. He smugly offers a dragon fruit to Yoongi who only raises his brows, a challenging glint to his eyes as he grabs some of the lychees instead and pops them into his mouth. “But you’re supposed to peel them!”, Taehyung screeches, his furry ears twitching in disgust, but Yoongi only smiles and eats one more, swallowing the entire fruit just to see Taehyung’s reaction once more.
“My saliva is acidic, I don’t need to peel them. I’ve been eating worse things, trust me.”
After Taehyung shows Yoongi and Y/N around the bunker (it even included a shower and a functional bedroom), he decides to call it a night and leave the two alone (not without them promising Taehyung to not kill each other, he would “check in the next day” to make sure of it) and heads over to his own little cabin nearby. Once Taehyung leaves, Yoongi pulls Y/N onto the worn out couch to actually sit down and talk.
“Okay, so you say you’re running away from Kkangpae too, right? Why?” Yoongi raises the eyebrow that was cut through by that ugly scar.
Y/N swallows, trying not to stare at Yoongi’s distracting eyes. “I was born into it, I didn’t choose that life, Yoongi. Just like you I was just a part of their game. I’ve seen people die since I was a kid. I’ve never been allowed to have friends or sleep somewhere else because my father was too ‘worried’ something could happen to me. That’s why one of his coaches trained me in different kinds of martial arts from the time I was able to walk.”
She looks at the hybrid again, shaking her head in disgust.
“Of course I knew what was going on with them, why they were behaving like that and I knew that my father and uncle were the leaders, so there wasn’t any chance for me to get away from it. I tried, really, but once I found out that they got killed... I didn’t know you did it, because the second I heard it, I ran. You can trust me, Yoongi, even though my last name might be occupied by all your prejudices.”
Yoongi listens the entire time, not interrupting her as he tries to understand what she was saying. “I’ve seen you when you were a teen”, he mumbles. “I age differently than humans, but I think you were just around 15 years old when you kicked that one security guy in the balls. That was kind of badass, not gonna lie,” Yoongi smirks at her, eyes glistering mischievously.
Y/N rolls her eyes at that. “He liked my dress way too much. One more reason not to wear those weird things at all.” Yoongi hums.
“I bet you look great in those, but I do like your leather pants too. Anyways, what leads you to the US? It’s not the most… unusual choice to run away to. Wouldn't a country like Greece or Egypt be better? They must be looking after you too. I tried hiding in volcanoes but it was too obvious.”
The girl shrugs her shoulders, shivering now that the evening starts to settle in. “I don’t know, to be honest. All those countries sound nice and fun, but I don’t speak their language. America is huge, too. I wasn’t planning on staying in this town, but now that I met you, I mean… We could run off together, maybe? I can fight and I know how to use a gun and I’ve heard of your… powers, too. You might know how they fight, but I know how they think. Us teaming up would be useful.” She shuffles around, unsure about how Yoongi would react.
“Are you cold?”
“What?”
This wasn’t the reaction Y/N was waiting for. “Are you cold? You’re shivering. I’ve never used my powers in this way, but maybe I could help you,”
Yoongi shrugs as he slowly touches her arm and attempts to heat up his own skin in a way that wouldn’t hurt the girl.
Y/N flinches at first, but the temperature heating up her body is too comfortable to deny.
“Oh god, this is amazing,” she leans her head against the headrest and closes her eyes. “I haven’t been this comfortable in a while.”
Yoongi nods, he understands that. The bunker is the first place he might be able to actually sleep. “I’ve been sleeping in volcanoes, like I said, but I haven’t really slept since I left the last one. Not that anyone could come in it and try to kill me, but after two days of sleeping and soaking in lava, it got boring.”
“I wouldn’t even mind bathing in lava as long as it’s this comfortable”, Y/N whispers as she drifts off into a deep slumber.
Once she’s asleep, Yoongi removes his hand slowly and looks around to find a comforter to throw over her relaxed body. Then he decides that he finally deserves the luxury of a real shower, with real hot water (that he heats up even more), before snuggling into the bed and closing his eyes for at least a few hours.
The next few days went by like nothing, Yoongi and Y/N weren’t really ready to go outside and face the world, so they stay inside the bunker to plan their getaway. They go out twice, practicing their fighting skills and helping Taehyung to pick some fruits (because Yoongi felt bad, he ate the entire mango stash in one night).
This evening, Yoongi prepares some food that he finds in the cupboards, some pasta and a canned sauce that he heats up in his hands, not bothering to put it onto the stove. He’s at the point where he decides that Y/N deserves his trust, that she won’t kill him and he’s pleasantly surprised to have someone like that in his life.
Y/N steps out of the shower, towel wrapping around her delicate body as Yoongi plates the food on the makeshift table.
“I swear to you, my muscles are still sore from your training yesterday!” She huffs as she searches her backpack for fresh clothes. “Can I grab one of your shirts? One of us has to do laundry tomorrow, I’m going to ask Taehyung how he’s doing it when he’s out here. But for now, I need something comfortable because I can’t squeeze my tired body in leather pants and a tight tank. So, please, Yoongi?” Y/N smiles her sweetest smile, causing Yoongi to groan out, defeated.
“And what am I supposed to wear tomorrow? My old stinky one that I sweat into during training?” He raises the scarred eyebrow at her as he sits down in front of his own plate, starting to eat already.
Y/N pouts as she grabs one of his last clean shirts and runs into the bathroom. When she comes back, she’s wearing that shirt - and only that shirt. Yoongi almost drops his fork.
It’s not like those movies where the girlfriend wears her boyfriend’s shirt and it looks cute and stops above her knee, no. Yoongi isn’t the tallest, Y/N’s actually almost the same height as him - with more curves than Yoongi's lanky body.
Instead, his ‘oversized’ shirt ends just a bit below her ass. Yoongi would bet that if she bends down, her entire peach would be on full view for him.
“Aren’t you going to wear any pants?” Yoongi mutters. To be honest, he hopes she won’t opt for pants because… he’s just a man and even his dragon instincts think about sex from time to time.
“Is it bothering you?” Y/N asks as she plops down besides him, starting to eat right away as well.
There isn’t much space between them and Yoongi can see her hardening nipples under the shirt that once belonged to him. He shrugs. “Nah, but don’t come ask me to heat you up just because you’re freezing your ass off again.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Would it bother you? Heating me up?”
“Probably.”
Y/N pouts and turns away slightly after she throws a blanket over her legs, continuing to eat her pasta. “How long are we going to stay here? We planned to leave for Italy, but when? It’s getting colder each day and I don’t like that winter’s coming.”
Yoongi stands up to go and wash his plate, not sure about the answer to Y/N’s question.
“There’s nothing holding us here. We could go and leave tomorrow, but we could also stay for a few more days, try to get enough sleep and take advantage of this bunker. I mean, would we get the chance to have such a perfect hideout again? Let’s use this opportunity for as long as we can.”
Inside, Yoongi knows that he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He wasn’t ready to face the world, not ready to be on the run again. “How much money did you take with you? Wherever we decide to stop by next, we should think about a way to earn money.”
“I left with my card and packed some money from the family’s safe before I realized it isn’t that smart to run away with my credit card that could be tracked. I withdrew some more money and gave the card to a homeless lady,” Y/N shrugs as she dries the plate Yoongi has washed before placing it back into the cupboard. “I think I still have around 10 grand in my backpack, I really don’t know. I didn’t need a lot of money, most of it was needed for gas and coffee.”
“You’ve been travelling with 10 thousand in cash? That’s kinda stupid. What are going to do if someone tries to rob you? Ugh,” Yoongi can feel the smoke leaving his nostril as he paces through the room, feeling restless out of sudden.
Y/N giggles. “Are you worried? Min Yoongi, the baddest dragon alive is worried about a girl that grew up with Kkangpae and definitely knows how to protect herself.”
Yoongi scrunches his nose, already feeling his skin heat up - but not in the magical way he’s used to. Nope. Min Yoongi is being shy.
“You are worried! How cute! Are you sure you’re a dragon and not just a little lizard? One of those that live in the fields and kids go and pick them up to have them as a pet in some shoeboxes?” Y/N steps closer, gently bumping her hip against Yoongi’s before patting his head with a giggle. “Who knew that the bad boy that’s one of the most powerful human beings is getting soft over a girl.”
Enough’s enough. Even though Yoongi never had the chance to fall in love, to be in a relationship or build a real friendship, he has had more than enough experience in other things, having shared ruts and heats with countless other hybrids that has some sort of place in Kkangpae. He turns around, his instincts taking over him.
Puffing out his chest a bit, standing completely straight so he will hover over Y/N, Yoongi steps forward, breath fanning over her face. “Did you just call me a fucking lizard?”
His eyes are going wild right now, the purple and green swirling around even faster than the usual soft flow of colors. He growls, stretching his neck from side to side as he starts to feel his fangs growing, soon poking out of his lips.
Y/N smirks, tilting her head to the side, looking up innocently at the fuming dragon in front of her. “Too bad you can’t change forms, huh?” She doesn’t even get to add another snarky comment to her sentence as Yoongi’s body presses her against the rough wall, his shirt sliding up her body as he cages her in.
“You’re acting like an ungrateful bitch, Y/N. Even got to wear my shirt like you’re someone that actually means something to me, yet you’re being bratty and annoying. I don’t hesitate to get rid of people that act up on me, you should know that by now.”
His hot breath fans her face and Y/N tries her best not to squirm under his intense glare. Then, she smirks. “You wouldn’t kill me.”
“Mhhm, you’re right, I wouldn’t. Still, you’re being bratty and I don’t appreciate such behavior.” Yoongi looks at Y/N, eyes still intimidating her.
“What are you going to do about it? Spank me?” She laughs, knowing that situations like this only happen in those new adult novels, not during an escape.
“I should, but maybe you won’t be able to keep up with it. In the end, you’re just human whilst I’m nothing more than a cute little lizard, huh?” Yoongi looks at his hands, claws forming where his fingernails once were. “I don’t remember lizards being able to hurt you, though. Wanna try?” His smirk is dangerous, but so alluring that Y/N just nods, not knowing what the night will bring for her.
Once they move to the makeshift bedroom, Y/N’s knees start to get weak. Yoongi feels the change in her aura, smirking to himself as he stops right behind her, hot breath blowing on her neck.
“Is there anything you don’t like, Bambi?” His fangs gently poke the juncture of her neck, not enough to actually draw blood but to make her twist under his touch.
“I don’t think so, I mean… I guess I like… Yoongi, can you stop that for a second, please?”
She turns around in his grip, cheeks blushing and lips parted. Yoongi cooes.
“This turned on already? Can’t even form sentences? Alright, I’ll sit down then and you’re going to tell me what I’m allowed to do to you,” Yoongi smirks as he slumps on the mattress, manspreading to give Y/N the best view of the bulge in his pants.
Y/N rolls her eyes and sinks down between his legs, a dangerous smirk now lingering on her lips. “Maybe I’ll just show you what I like and you can take over from that? Figured you’d be one that prefers to be in control. I’ll go by the traffic light system if I’m not okay with anything - or I’ll kick you in the balls, so don’t worry.”
Yoongi doesn’t even bother to answer as Y/N presses her mouth against his clothed dick to kiss it lightly. His hips buck slightly as she wraps her lips around him and starts sucking on the side of his bulge through the fabric. She smiles as his cock grows harder under her lips, but Yoongi is quick to pull her off. “I really appreciate your effort but are you down there to drool all over my pants or are you going to suck me off? I promise you my dick is human, not one of a lizard.”
She pouts, playing with the hem of his joggers. “Where’s the fun in that? But fine,” Y/N rolls her eyes and pulls them down slowly, her nails gently scratching the skin of his stomach while doing so. As the waistband of his pants go past his cock, she is not even surprised that Yoongi isn’t wearing any boxers underneath them.
“Predictable,” she mutters mostly to herself, but Yoongi grabs a bunch of her hair to push Y/N back on his, this time naked, length.
It costs her a lot of self control to not retort him with a snarky remark, as she continues to remove his pants slowly. Yoongi growls, but she just smiles up at him and grabs his heavy dick to stroke it two, three times. Then, she leans down to gently lick his balls, still not using her mouth on his dick.
Yoongi twists and groans, trying his hardest not to grab her and shove his entire length down her throat until it’s sore, but this woman is testing his patience. One of his hands is still on the back of her head whilst he uses the other one to lean back a little, just to get a better view.
“Are you done playing now, Petal?” Yoongi’s grip on Y/N’s hair tightens, his claws digging into her head - and Y/N can’t keep in the silent mewl that leaves her lips at the burning pleasure. “Be a good girl now, will you?” His voice is almost alluring her to do as he pleases, but Y/N wouldn’t be herself if she follows his orders.
Their eyes meet and Yoongi has to admit that she looks perfect. Even though she isn’t wearing any make up right now, hair still damp from her shower and eyes already clouded with lust, he wouldn’t want any other person to be in her position right now.
She stares at his cock again, her own panties dampening at the thought of having it inside her. Y/N’s tongue pokes out to play with his tip, tasting him and getting a feeling for the heaviness on her tongue as Yoongi pushes her down in one swift motion. A gurgling sound escapes from Y/N’s throat, but she does her best to swallow his huge length, using her fist to stroke whatever can’t fit.
“Oh, shit,” Yoongi groans and throws his head back while trying to keep his eyes on Y/N at the same time. Her eyes are closed, lips beautifully parted around his cock and saliva already drips down her chin, even though Yoongi hasn’t even really moved by now. “You’ll let me fuck your mouth, right, angel?”
She nods as good as she can with a mouth full of dick, looking up at the hybrid in front of her. Yoongi hisses as he pushes his hips forward, losing himself in the feeling quickly as his thrusts get faster and sloppier. The sight of Y/N not only sucking him off but also wearing his shirt sends him close to edge quickly.
Y/N pulls off to take a deep breath and to wink at Yoongi before sinking down again.
"God, you're so good, Petal. Wanted to fuck that bratty mouth for so long now. Imagine your father seeing you like that, he'd die from the shock, his little princess on her knees to please the housedragon."
She moans at his words, fingers sIiding under her, Yoongi's, shirt, but the man is quick to grab both of her hands to cross them behind her head. He grabs her wrists as he plunges himself down her throat once more before he spills his hot load into her mouth with a loud growl a bit of smoke that comes out of his nostrils.
As Y/N pulls off, her eyes show the disbelief she must be feeling. "You… You taste like…"
"Cinnamon?", Yoongi smirks, his eye color now much calmer than before now that his inner dragon is somewhat sated - for now.
“Yes, I was expecting anything, a double penis, maybe some weird forms or scales, but not cinnamon flavoured cum. Not that I mind, though. Tastes like that gum I used to have when I was still in school.”
Yoongi hums, stepping out of his pants now that they won’t be used anyways, his shirt following too.
“Now it’s your turn, petal. Let me see you,” he gestures with his fingertip, swirling in a motion for her to turn around, finally giving Yoongi the view that he had been curious about ever since Y/N came out of the bathroom with his shirt on. She isn’t wearing one of those expensive lingeries that are nothing but lace, no. Expensive, yes. A sporty looking string is disappearing between her round buttcheeks, the rather thick waistband of it covered with the Versace logo. Yoongi hums, that’s definitely what he had expected Y/N to wear, it looks comfortable but still seductive.
Y/N smirks over her shoulder, lifting the hem of her shirt teasingly but letting it fall down again to cover her butt. “Maybe you need privileges to undress me, Min. I mean, I’m somewhat of royal blood, aren’t I?” She gracefully sinks down onto his lap, arms wrapping around his neck.
A chuckle leaves Yoongi’s lips as he tilts his head. “Do you want me to call you princess now? Because I didn’t know you were into that. Does babygirl also do the thing for you? I bet your blood’s blue too, I’d love to see that.”
Yoongi traces his finger tip over her thigh, his claw teasing the soft skin there and Y/N’s eyes follow it curiously. He presses down a bit, just enough to break the first layer of skin and draw a little bit of blood - enough to prove both of them that Y/N’s blood isn’t blue. “Oh, too bad, not a real princess,” Yoongi pouts.
Y/n raises her eyebrow. “Did you just cut me?”
“It’s not a cut, just a little… poke?” Yoongi wipes over the blood before bringing his finger to his lips and licking the drop off with a smirk. “Doesn’t taste royal to me, rather muddy. But maybe that’s what you get from living with Kkangpae for so long. Guess mine tastes like dirt too.”
Y/N laughs, not even shocked about the fact that Yoongi seems to be bothered about her blood on his tongue. The melodic sound of her laugh makes Yoongi smile too, an actual, honest smile that shows all his teeth and fangs, causing Y/N to coo. “And suddenly you don’t look scary anymore.”
Her eyes wander down his body, inspecting every inch, maybe to find something more dragon-like, maybe to just remember the skinship for much longer. “Oh,” She breathes out, “You’ve got scales.”
Yoongi looks down at his stomach where some scales are shimmering in the bedroom light. “Yes, I do have scales. I’m a dragon, remember?”
And to Y/N, they’re beautiful. They’re not huge, not as dry or disgusting as lizards look like, no. Those scales must come from a line of beautiful dragons. They match his eyes, shimmering purple and green whenever they hit the light. But they’re not only on his stomach, they are also winding around his sides and up his back.
Y/N’s fingers follow them as she orders Yoongi to lay down on his stomach to get a full view of them.
The scales grow larger on his shoulder blades, probably where his dragon wings imaginely would be and Y/N can’t help but kiss the rough texture. Goosebumps erupt on Yoongi’s entire body, skinship like this was never a real thing for him.
“Feels good,” he whispers into his arm, slightly ashamed. Y/N continues to pamper his skin in kisses and licks, biting the rougher areas here and there until Yoongi grows impatient and turns them around, growling playfully.
“Like I said, my turn now.”
Yoongi always has a thing for taking his time to please his partner, he isn’t one for quick fucks without foreplay. So, he kneels between Y/N’s parting legs, palms caressing the smooth skin that is covered in a few fresh cuts and old scars from practicing her fighting skills, but Yoongi definitely didn’t mind them. His shirt has moved on its own, not even covering her panties anymore but ending somewhere above her belly button by now. As soon as his fingertips glide over the curve of her hips, Y/N shudders with a quiet mewl. “Yoongi.”
“Mhm, ‘m here, you look so good, Petal,” Yoongi whispers while kissing her ankles, her calves, and the sensitive area of her inner thighs.
“Truly like a flower. You know that there’s a flower called Dragon’s Breath? It’s bright red and can survive in the heat like a champ, even their leaves are red. But I don’t think it’s scent comes close to yours,” he hums in front of her clothed core, tongue poking against the wet spot on the fabric. “Bet you taste even better, Petal.”
“Yoongi, please,” Y/N whines, getting rid of the shirt by herself, the heat simmering inside her body is almost overwhelming. Yoongi looks up from the space between her legs, eyeing the swell of her breasts with a growl, muttering compliments again and again. He sits up the slightest bit to gently remove her panties - claws nowhere to be seen by now, even his fangs are gone and Yoongi’s just Yoongi, even though the arousal is visible in his eyes again.
He lies down, cock rubbing against the rough sheets causes him to hiss quietly, but his mind is somewhere else within seconds. How couldn’t he with Y/N’s soaking core in front of his face?
She can’t see his mischievous smirk as he swiftly controls the temperature of his skin, cooling down his fingertips as he slowly and teasingly traces her folds.
Y/N yelps. “Yoongi! Shit, what’s that?”
Yoongi laughs, holding up his unoccupied hand to her face, showing her how cold his fingers are by holding them against her cheek whilst the other hand works magic on her clit.
“Unbelievable. Warn me the next time,” she mutters as she sinks back into the pillows.
Yoongi’s hot breath fans the sensitive area before he broadly licks right across the flesh, enjoying the way her body jumps out of surprise again. “Oh, oops.”
Then, he finally pushes one finger in, tongue pressing right against Y/N’s clit as he starts doing what it feels like he was born to do. Yoongi eats her out with no mercy. Ignoring her squirming body and needy whines, he only concentrates on the places that bring the loudest moans out of her, massacring those until she’s close - to stop with a smug smirk.
Y/N could reach her high by just looking at his face, red and breathless, but also wet from her juices, lips glistering in the light. Two of his fingers are still inside her, teasing her G-spot just as his lips start sucking the life out of her clit again.
Y/N’s hands are buried in his chaotic mess of hair, pulling on it but also pressing him further onto her core until his tongue slips inside her as well. She doesn’t warn him, too scared of missing another orgasm, but Yoongi also doesn’t look like he’s about to stop this time, eager to pleasure the woman underneath him. Y/N screams as she reaches her high, hips bucking up from the bed, Yoongi’s head going with it, just so he can make sure that every second of her orgasm will be remembered forever.
He kitten licks her folds as she calms down; stroking her thighs, kissing her stomach while whispering praises. “Fuck,” she rasps out, her stomach still heaving heavily.
Yoongi crawls up next to her with admiration in his eyes as he leans over to kiss Y/N for the first time. She can taste herself on his tongue, but who cares? The kiss is more gentle than Y/N expects. Yoongi seems to be switching moods from hungry to loving within seconds, but that’s probably his inner dragon wanting to devour her whilst Yoongi just wants to take his time to make the night special. Y/N is the one to pull away, looking at him with dark eyes. “Get inside me, please.”
The hybrid smirks, tilting his head as he asks “How do you like it?”
“I’ll show you,” she remarks as she pushes Yoongi to lay flat on his back. She climbs into his lap and sinks down onto his cock in one abrupt motion without even bothering to tease him.
The pleasure is overwhelming; Yoongi stretches her so, so good and Y/N feels so, so warm and tight around Yoongi that he loses all of his control over his body. His eyes are bright purple now, pupils forming into slits that remind Y/N more of a snake than a dragon. His skin burns up, almost too much for her to bear, but the hissing noises Yoongi releases are enough to hold on through it.
“Fuck, sorry, wait a second,” Yoongi tries to push her off so she can cool down a little bit, but Y/N just shakes her head. She shushes him with a gentle kiss, careful of the fangs that now poke out between his lips again. “Don’t hold back, it’s not hurting me. Be yourself, Yoongi. I trust you.”
Yoongi curses under his breath as he tries his best not to move, letting Y/N adjust to his size and the circumstances of his inhumane origin. He’s never fucked a human, and even though they’re not that much different from hybrids he knew that he didn’t want to hurt her.
“It’s not only the temperature,” Yoongi groans, “I tend to bite and mark my partners. I don’t know how your body would react to it, though. I sometimes say or do things that my human side would never say.”
Y/N smiles at him, fondness blooming in her heart as she starts swaying her hips slowly, not breaking eye contact. “Like I said, Yoongi, I trust you. I’m sure that you’re inside your inner dragon, that you won’t hurt me and even if I tell you to stop; you’d be able to. Now, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re getting all shy while your dick is inside me?”
She tilts her head with a playful smile as her hands glide down Yoongi’s toned chest, teasing his perky nipples and playing with his beautiful scales. It was still hard to believe that the rarest, most powerful hybrid was right here with her, laying underneath her, sharing this moment with her.
“Now come on, Yoongi, wake up the dragon and give me what you’ve promised.”
Yoongi didn’t need to be told twice, hands landing a firm grip on Y/N’s hips as he plants his feet firmly on the mattress before quickly pistoning up inside her. Y/N cries in pleasure, but Yoongi almost doesn’t hear it, too lost in the feeling of her tight pussy around his cock. He’s still trying to be careful, keeping his claws under control so he won’t actually tear her apart.
“‘m gonna make you cum so good, Petal. So, so good.”
Then, he flips them around in one swift motion, hovering over her frame as he looks down at her like only a predator could. “Mine,” he snarls as he licks into Y/N’s mouth, hips moving slowly but so powerful that her body pushes up into the pillow with each thrust. “Say it, Petal. Say you’re mine.”
Yoongi grabs her face so she can’t break eye contact - not that she would, who could look away from such eyes? They’re hypnotizing and Y/N is sure that she will do just about anything for him right now.
“I’m yours, Yoongi. It’s just you and me right now,” she breathes out as she grabs his hair, pulling his head closer so she can connect their lips once more.
Yoongi’s hips start to stutter, his orgasm approaching, but he didn’t want it to end just yet. Of course, dragon stamina is different, but where would be the fun in that? Orgasm control and denial is a thing that Yoongi enjoys here and there, teasing himself whilst masturbating, not letting him or his partners come and delaying their pleasure for as long as he possibly can. That’s why he pulls out quickly, leaving Y/N’s core clench around nothing.
“The fuck, Yoongi?” Y/N whines and glares at the man in front of her, eyeing his sweaty body.
He laughs and presses a quick kiss to her lips before he sits back on his heels, staring at her body as well. Her chest is heaving, fine pearls of sweat dripping down the space between her breasts and her legs are slightly shaking - all of that is enough to boost Yoongi’s confidence as he quickly pushes two of his fingers inside her, pumping them at a rapid pace.
His teeth - and fangs - nibble on her nipples, pulling them slightly, almost crossing the border of comfortable pain as he fingers her through her second orgasm of the night.
“Do you want to kill me?” Y/N sighs as she catches her breath, knowing that Yoongi is not done with her for tonight.
He laughs again, fangs shining in the light and tiny droplets of sweat fall out of his hair as he shakes his head. “I could, but where would be the fun in that? Or are you one of those girls that like the thrill of almost being killed? I could choke you if you’re into that.”
“Oh, I am into that, but not after orgasming two times and knowing that there will probably be two more coming. Is that one of your kinks? Choking?” She tilts her head in an adorable way - too adorable for the position she’s in right now.
“Mhhm,” Yoongi hums whilst tracing the sensitive skin on her stomach. Y/N jumps slightly, shooting Yoongi a playful glare before quickly jumping onto him. She sits down on his abdomen, leans over and closes her hands around his throat. “Do you like being choked too?”
“Can you handle me fighting back against it?” The challenge shimmers in Yoongi’s eyes, knowing that Y/N is nowhere as strong as he is, but he loves playing. He doesn’t mind if she wants to be on top, he enjoys losing control once in a while, but his dragon usually hates it, fights against it.
Y/N loosens the grip of one hand to slowly rake her fingernails down his chest, leaving visible lines. “I’ve never said no to a good fight, Yoongi.”
The hybrid growls, hands balling to fists as Y/N tightens the grip on his neck once again.
“This is so hot, you’re so hot,” He whispers, eyes closed and lost in the feeling.
Then, Y/N lines herself up with Yoongi again and sinks down slowly, gasping slightly because the stretch is still there, but it feels so good. “God, move, please move,” Yoongi rasps and who would Y/N be to deny him such a thing? She uses both of her hands to sturdy herself on his chest whilst quickly bouncing up and down his cock. The noises that Yoongi makes are music to her ears, he’s usually so quiet, but now he doesn’t even try to hide the pleasure he’s feeling.
He groans, grunts, hisses and even moans whilst his hips buckle up to meet her thrusts. “Fuck, I’m going to breed you so well. You’re mine, Y/N. Gonna be my mate, huh? Gonna carry my chicks, all beautiful and round.”
Y/N’s eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, but she can’t deny the arousal that floods through her body with his words. “Yes, Yoongi. Fuck, yes, breed me.”
By now the biggest roar leaves Yoongi’s chest as he pushes Y/N off, to grab her hips and position her on all fours in front of him. A harsh slap lands on her ass as he pushes in again, pressing her face-down into the pillows. “I will, Petal. You could never want anyone else after being mine. Nobody else. Just me.”
His hand finds its way into her hair, wrapping it around his wrist as he pulls her head back, having her at full mercy.
They’re both a loud mess by now and Yoongi is fucking thankful for the bunker, because imagine if they’d go on like this in Taehyung’s cabin instead - the entire forest would be able to listen to them.
It’s gross and sweaty, wild and not gentle, but both of them enjoy it way too much.
Y/N can’t even warn Yoongi before her third orgasm washes through her body and the tight clench combined with her sinful moans sends Yoongi over the edge too - spilling his thick load into her with one last thrust.
“Shit,” he groans as he collapses on top of her, pressing kisses all over her neck. “You were so good, Petal.”
Y/N smiles, nuzzling back into him and closes her eyes to enjoy the comfortable post-sex silence. Yoongi hums quietly, giving the two of them time to cool down - he helps her by reducing his body temperature again -, then he pulls out. “Ew,” he mutters as his cum gushes out of her.
“Creampies are hot whilst you’re still busy with fucking, but afterwards it’s just a gross mess. Wanna take a shower?”
Y/N’s way too lazy to shower right now, she’d die for a hot bath but the bunker didn’t give her any chance to fulfill that dream, so she just nods. “Mhm, yes, but you’ve got to carry me, you big lizard.”
Yoongi furrows his eyebrows before sighing in defeat. “Guess I’ll need to show you my dragon once again.” He lifts Y/N up easily and carries her towards the bathroom, just to have her at his mercy once more. And this time, Y/N doesn’t argue about him being a true dragon.
Days and nights go by quickly whilst Yoongi and Y/N grow closer each passing minute.
They spend their days together training, teaching each other self defense tricks and talking about which places they want to travel to next.
They do sleep together now, not fighting over who will get the bed and who will have to stay on the couch. Some nights are a bit colder, which gives Yoongi the opportunity to hold Y/N close to his chest while slowly heating himself up to a comfortable temperature to sleep in. In general, you could say that Yoongi and Y/N act like a couple - though they don’t talk about their feelings right now.
Yoongi has never been in love and neither has Y/N, Kkangpae hasn't given them any chance to find a suitable partner to spend their lives with. So how would they know if love is what they are feeling?
What Yoongi does know is that he’d protect Y/N with his life - and vice versa.
Cuddling on the couch has become a thing for Y/N and Yoongi and he hates being unsure about the whole situation, he didn’t want to label them, but he is itching to know what’s going on between them. So one evening after dinner, he blurts out “Are we in a relationship? Like, are we a thing now?”
Y/N jumps slightly in Yoongi’s embrace and looks up at the hybrid, unsure. “I… don’t know? I guess you could say so, we do a lot of couple things, I mean last night when you ate my..-”
“Oh, yes, I remember. That was fun!”
Yoongi smirks at the memory of last night’s bedtime adventures, Y/N trapped underneath him, her legs wrapping around his head as he ate her out slowly and teasingly, before he just pulls her on top of himself to sit on his face. Now he has not only her pussy in front of him, but also her ass - and what kind of man would Yoongi be to not use this opportunity?
“I mean, I would… I would like to be in a relationship with you, Yoongi. I trust you, I really like you and I feel like we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together anyway,” Y/N looks at her hands and bites her lip in anticipation, fearful about the man’s answer.
“That sounds like you’re choosing to date me just because I’m the only man around you, Petal.”
He gently grabs her face, giving her no chance to break the eye contact. This time, the green in his eyes is more prominent than the purple - a rare sight, but Y/N is still in awe. “I want you to choose me because you actually like me, Y/N. Not just like, but maybe even love me. I know we haven’t known each other for a long time, there can’t be love between us for now, but I can say for myself that I am really close to loving you. I want to spend the rest of my life running away with you, not just because I have to.”
Y/N pouts, eyebrows furrowing as she looks at Yoongi. “I didn’t mean it like that, Yoongi. But if you’re asking this charmingly, yes, I’d like to date you too, you big baby.” Yoongi growls playfully, showing off his fangs - which he knows that they don’t scare Y/N at all, but he’s proud of them, so he shows them off here and there - and pressing a gentle kiss onto her lips.
Feelings change kisses. Kissing somebody that you’re now dating is even better so the new couple spends minutes kissing each other carefully and lovingly. Yoongi is just about to get Y/N on his lap as the door bursts open and an out of breath looking Taehyung stands in the living room.
“Yoongi… They’re here… Rats, but they smelled weird,” the hybrid pants as he looks at Yoongi.
The dragon just stares at Taehyung intensely, before nodding. “Thanks, man. Really. For your help, for letting us stay here, take care of yourself, okay?”
All of them know that it’s now the time for Y/N and Yoongi to leave, not coming back ever again because Kkangpae would always have their men here from now on.
“Thank you, Tae,” Y/N bows slightly with red cheeks, still embarrassed that they got caught.
“Good luck, guys.” Taehyung sends them a hurt smile, knowing that he and Yoongi could actually be friends if their lives were different, but now it was time to say goodbye so Taehyung turns around and leaves as quickly as he came.
Yoongi sighs as he stands up and starts gathering their things. “Time to pack. You’ll do the bedroom and I’ll collect our stuff from here, okay? I think the next stop will be South Africa, it’s a long trip but it’ll be worth it, Kkangpae would probably never search for us there.”
And so, they do end up in Kenya almost two weeks later, the US long forgotten as their lives go on.
The trip is actually fun, Yoongi and Y/N riding on their motorbikes - Yoongi is even allowed to ride hers for a short amount of time - taking the ferry instead of the plane and sleeping at random places in the countries they passed.
Kenya is beautiful, the temperature is perfect for Yoongi and he finally gets the glow a true dragon should have. He doesn’t look as pale anymore, random scales growing here and there on his arms and neck and Y/N has never found Yoongi to be more beautiful. He seems truly happy.
The couple even started to go out, visiting different National Parks and trying to find some volcanoes for Yoongi. Y/N knows that she could never go near an active volcano, but Yoongi swears that he needed them at least once every two months to keep his dragon alive - though Y/N thinks he wants to take a long nap in the lava again.
During their time at the Masai Mara National Reserve they met another hybrid, a rare persian cheetah by the name of Hoseok. He greets them with open arms and is friendly enough to show them around.
Hoseok also gives them a perfect description of how Yoongi would find the only active volcano in South Africa on Marion Island. That’s where the couple is right now, Y/N swimming in the turquoise water around the island whilst Yoongi takes, to no surprise, a nap in the lava.
They’re genuinely happy, living more relaxed and peaceful than ever before and once Yoongi wakes up from his nap and sees Y/N still swimming around, playing with little fish and looking as beautiful as ever, he just knows that he made the right decision. She’s the one he wants to spend his life with, have kids with and die with.
They have a good feeling that Kkangpae won’t find them here. This can be their home from now on. Though, they wouldn’t mind the chance to discover more of the earth, travel around and meet new people.
But South Korea isn’t on their list, that’s for sure.
#ksmutclub#smutcentralnet#magicshopnet#bangtanfairygarden#bangtanarmynet#suganetwork#bts#bts fanfiction#min yoongi#yoongi fanfiction#yoongi#suga#suga fanfiction#hybrid#hybrid yoongi#dragon yoongi#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst#hybrid bts#hybrid collab#dragon hybrid#btscollab#bts fic#yoongi fic
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