seen from Ukraine
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
Hope: how are you not freaking out? I just told you I’m a vampire
Y/N: because you’re still my girl and I am absolutely in love with you
Hope smiles softly…
Y/N: and if you ever need a sip of blood just let me know
Hope: (giggles) I am a little thirsty
Y/N sits down on their couch and exposes their neck to her…
Hope smiles and walks over…
Sleepy Drawings
Warnings/Notes: Omegaverse au, Alpha!Hope, Omega!Reader, Fluff, purring and rumbling mentioned.
A/n: Saw a reel about this and i just HAD to write about it
── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Us -
[ot7 x reader]
AGUST DUI 🛴🔥
7 participants - 7 online
———————————
tae: ok raise your hand if you think yoongi should of died in the crash
namjoon: why would you say that?
Unbound X - (BTS x Reader)
↳index
Genre: Fantasy | Dark Academia | Romance | Mystery | Action | Magic
T/W: Bullying, discrimination
Pairing: Reader x Taehyung, Reader x Jungkook (and a tiny bit of ot7),
A/N: This time I wanted to focus more on rumors, and what it does to 'reader'. They'll be petty, the usual school drama, but luckily there are people who have your back.
And it was also time for me to give Jungkook a little bit of attention. (next chapter you will be seeing more of him, just to remind you that Tae isn't the only LI hehe).
** Credits for line divider by strangergraphics-archive
Word count: 5774
Previous ∘•···•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•···• Next
Chapter X - Sparks and Scandals
When Wednesday evening settles in, the first stars scatter around a velvet blue sky.
By now, the Academy's corridors are silent, save for the distant sound of the dining bell fading into silence. Most students have already retreated to their dormitories, their voices barely audible through the thick, stone walls of the arena grounds. Only the stubborn and the driven remain.
And, of course, yours truly.
Driven, or stupid. The line between those is thinner than you'd like to admit.
Professor Kwon's stern voice cuts through the air. “Again.”
Your muscles are burning with fatigue, sleeves damp with sweat and a cold breeze whispers through the colonnade beyond. Despite it all, you steady your stance and plant both boots wide on the stone ground.
“Do not mistake Evocation for brute force,” Kwon continues. His hands are folded behind his back as he paces a circle around you and his worn leather gloves glow faintly beneath the arena's lanterns. “You have to will it through intent. Magic listens to thought, not to panic.”
“I'm not panicking.” You mutter under your breath, though a quiver in your voice begs to differ. A familiar heat spreads through your palms as you call the flames to life once more.
Kwon's mouth twitches in what could almost be described as amusement, though his eyes narrow. “Then stop thinking like a mercenary from the slums.” He states. Your shoulders stiffen at his words. He means no insult, you're aware of that. It's the truth.
During your training sessions, you've learned that much about him. Kwon Jiyong neither flatters nor softens his observations.
Centering your breath again, you feel the familiar pull of Evocation flutter beneath your skin. You gather the flame carefully this time, without forcing it too much.
“Focus,” Professor Kwon says. “Breathe in, then release it.”
This time, the hurl of fire that leaps from your fingertips is narrow and clean—a streak of crimson red strikes the warded dummy in its chest. The wood turns black in an instant, then collapses in on itself, leaving behind only a scorch mark and smoke twining upwards.
That receives a single nod from him. “That's better,” He acknowledges. Coming from him, that's high praise, but he leaves you no time to bask in it. “Again.”
By the time the bell chimes the late hour through the arena, you are barely able to lift your arms from the strain. The last remnants of your conjured ward quiver beneath trembling fingers. Even your thoughts feel hazy, so when Kwon finally lowers his hands, you feel relief curling through your stomach.
“That's enough for tonight,” Kwon says finally.
Slowly, you straighten. Every muscle in your body aches, the bruises appearing beneath your sleeves throb with each minor movement. The exhaustion seeps deep through your bones, and thoughts alike.
“You've made progress in only four lessons.” Kwon praises as he moves toward the center of the space and he settles his gaze on you. “But your control fractures under pressure. Especially when you are tired.”
Nodding in understanding, you resist the urge to retort. There's no point in arguing when he's right. Not when you barely manage to stand straight.
“So, you will need more than solo drills,” He adds, his voice contemplative now. His footsteps echo against the stone as he paces. “Perhaps a sparring partner. One who can challenge your instincts. Force you to refine..”
At that, you raise a brow.
A partner? Already?
You open your mouth to protest instinctively, but he cuts it off with a single flick of his fingers. “Very well, I will arrange it,” He states simply as if the matter is already sealed and there is no room for negotiation. Then, he gestures toward the door. “Rest. You're no use to me half-dead.”
“Charming.” You mutter under your breath while rolling your eyes. Still, you follow his instructions with an incline of your head, before you turn around and stride toward the arched exit.
As you step into the open colonnade, the cold night air bites your skin. Lanterns light the path ahead, yet they do not offer any warmth tonight. You pull your cloak tighter around your body, Kwon's words echoing through your mind.
A sparring partner.
Just what you need. Another pair of eyes to watch you struggle through barely-contained fireballs and wards that are too broad. Maybe they'd sell tickets next. You could probably fund a lunch in the Capital that way.
You are lost in that charming thought when you round one of the marble pillars and slam straight into wall of solid muscle.
You freeze mid-step. So does the figure before you.
When you finally tilt your head up to face them, you meet a pair of cold, dark brown eyes and mutter a string of curses under your breath.
What was it with this man and constantly bumping into him?
Jungkook regards you with stillness, though a different emotion stirs behind his eyes. His posture is relaxed, there are no folds in his perfectly ironed robes, but there's an unusual tension hiding beneath his polished surface.
You do not question it. Yet.
“When will you finally learn to watch where you're going?” The frustration in the tone of his voice is clear and the man doesn't wait for you to reply. “Why are you out so late?”
Resisting the urge to cross your arms under his scrutiny, you bite back the insults already laid out on your tongue. “Training.”
He raises a brow. “Alone?”
“Last time I checked, we're allowed to use the training grounds by ourselves.” You counter.
“I suppose some of us need more practice than others.” He mutters, voice deceptively mild.
You simply snort, feeling too exhausted to be properly irritated. “And some of us need better hobbies than lurking in corners of corridors. Surely you have other admirers to terrorize tonight?”
Jungkook remains quiet with his gaze locked on yours and you're unsure whether he is insulted or impressed. Then, with the smallest tilt of his head, his voice drops to a softer tone, yet it is still laced with a certain edge. “I might, but they don’t talk back nearly as much.”
“Are you saying I should feel honored?”
He exhales, almost through a scoff. “I’m saying most people know when to keep their distance.”
“Maybe you should take your own advice, Jeon,” you quip smoothly. “Because for someone so bothered by me, you don’t seem to do much staying away.”
That finally earn a shift in his expression. “Don't flatter yourself,” His features tighten just slightly. Then, almost as if he's turning the thought over himself, he adds quietly, “I didn’t expect you to be the type to overreach.”
Arching a brow, the weariness in your features is replaced by grim amusement. “I thought you'd already decided what type I was.”
Jungkook narrows his eyes, but despite the chill it sends down your spine, you press on in a light voice. “Don't worry, I'm not foolish enough to think a few controlled flames make me your equal.”
“You've been acting otherwise.” He states, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, well, acting a certain way and feeling aren't always the same thing.” A sigh escapes your lips. “If it helps, I wasn't trying to impress you. Or anyone else.”
“You didn't.” He says slightly too fast.
You study his face, noticing something beneath his composure. There's unease, perhaps. Or the same frustration you can still taste in your own mouth.
He can't stop thinking about the duel, you remind yourself. Half the Academy can't. Neither can you. But tonight, it's not your problem.
“Look, Jeon.. Whatever you think of me, I know the duel didn't exactly win me any favors. Least of all with you,” His gaze sharpens at your words. “So, consider this an apology,” You say evenly, head lifting despite the nerves going through your body. “Not that I expect you to care.”
This time, the silence is longer. Jungkook's fingers move once at his sleeve and when he speaks, his voice sounds low and tense. “Don't waste your breath apologizing.”
“Consider it wasted, then.”
Something flickers in his gaze again. Then, with a deep breath, he steps back. “Don’t get used to this,” he says softly. “Or to thinking you’ve earned a place here.”
Before you can answer, he moves past you and walks away.
Your pulse hammers faster now, tension prickling beneath your skin. You force your legs to move forward, pace swift despite the ache clawing at your limbs. “Focus,” you scold yourself under your breath. “Kwon’s right—you’ve got more work ahead than dodging Elite tempers.”
Yet even as you walk and your footsteps echo through the hallway—an unwelcome thought lingers.
Who will he choose?
And worse—why does it matter?
Whilst Jungkook's figure vanishes around the corner, unseen by you, he stops his pace and mumbles, “Damn it.”
You don't remember falling asleep that night.
At some point between dragging your bruised limbs to your dormitory and collapsing face-first onto your mattress, exhaustion must have won. Fragments of restless dreams offer no memory of the night before, but when the faint chime of the morning bell echoes through the dormitory, your body responds with a protest so sharp it draws a loud groan from your throat.
Every muscle aches and your limbs feel as if they are on fire. It reminds you much of the feeling when you woke up in the infirmary after the trials. At least this time, it wasn't the result of barely surviving a fight against three creatures. Instead, there was just one. And his name is Kwon Jiyong.
When you finally force yourself upright, the blankets slip off to reveal bruises painting your arms. Lovely souvenirs from relentless training.
Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you wince slightly when your bare feet hit the icy floor.
Gods, you think, rolling your shoulders once and gritting your teeth at the tension burning through your joints. Kwon wasn't just training me. He was tenderizing me.
By the time you step into the corridor, pale sunlight filters through the arched windows. In the distance, the voices and footsteps of early-risers fill the hallway. You brace yourself for another long day of lectures, but something feels off far before you reach the spiraling stairwell.
It isn't the cold morning breeze nor the ache coiling through your limbs. And it isn't quite like the way you felt in the library or just before the trials.. This time it's in the way conversations dim as you pass and in the glances that linger for a moment too long.
Near the Eastern stairs, a group of students are huddled beneath a stone arch. Two girls and a boy you haven't seen before; nobles who learned from a young age how to use words like daggers. You catch fragments of their hushed conversation.
“... said she saw her with Jeon at the training grounds last night.” One of the girls say.
Ah, it never ceases to amaze how fast rumors spread in the Academy.
“Jungkook would never train with slum-borns,” The boy replies knowingly. “Unless she has found.. another way to make herself useful.”
“They say Kim Taehyung’s caught too. What’s the phrase? One foot in two beds?” Another girl chimes in. The chuckles that follows are instant.
You resist the temptation to turn around and plant a few questionable choices of words between their perfect teeth. Instead, you swallow them down.
Wonderful, you've gone up from 'slum-rat' to 'midnight amusement for Elites'.
Jimin's warnings echo in your mind. “They will come for you in ways you won’t expect. Not fire and lightning, but reputation. Doubt. They’ll whisper you out of existence if they can.”
Guess that memo made the rounds.
When you reach the classroom for Principles of Evocation, you slide into your seat well before the other students file in. This morning would be without friends, only first-years you barely know repeating whatever court of gossip flows their way.
As more students enter in groups, most of their voices dip only slightly, their eyes cutting toward you with barely concealed interest.
You ignore it, keeping your gaze fixated on the front of the room where Professor Park Jinyoung's voice rambles on about ice shaping and magical resistance. Your hands are neatly folded atop your desk. From the outside, you seem perfectly composed. From the inside? Well enough. You've had worse mornings. Worse fights. Worse company. This is merely noise.
Or so you keep telling yourself.
It doesn’t take long for someone to test your patience.
It happens when Professor Park grants the class a ten minute break— just enough for fresh ink, new parchment and petty schemes.
From the corner of your eye, you see a group of students approach.
Only when a shadow falls across your desk, do you look up. Three figures stand before you. The first girl has sleek hair dyed rose-gold, you know her as Kazuha from House Nakamura. Beside her stands Yunjin from House Huh, her hair is tied in a braid and pink stained lips are curled in cruel amusement.
The boy you do not know, he's round-faced and broad-shouldered and wears golden accessories around his neck and fingers as if he's trying to convince himself more than others that he's nobility.
“Hi there,” Huh Yunjin's honey-sweet voice drawls. “We thought we’d come congratulate you.”
Your face is blank as you look at them. “Congratulate me? For surviving class?”
Kazuha follows, “For climbing so high,” She slightly tilts her head, folding her arms across her chest. “From the slums to plaything for the Golden Boys. We were wondering how exhausting it must be for you.. juggling your new admirers.”
An exasperated sigh leaves your lips. “Ah, yes. My busy schedule of public duels and scandalous dates. Truly, I don’t even know how I manage.”
The boy smirks, eyes sweeping you with condescension. “No need to be modest. You've clearly mastered the art of.. persuasion.”
“Persuasion, huh?” You murmur as your elbow rests on the table and your head is propped in the palm of your hand. “Here I thought I was accepted due to my talent.. Not because of mattress diplomacy.”
Yunjin draws a sharp breath. “You’d best be careful,” She hisses now, mask slipping. “You may be a novelty now, but Elites don’t like sharing their toys. And no one likes a filthy little upstart who thinks she belongs.”
You lean back slightly, letting your gaze sweep across all three of them. “You’re right. I don’t belong to any of them,” you say softly. “Which must make it all the more frustrating for you that I got their attention without lifting a finger, while you're still badly craving it.”
Their faces tighten, satisfaction blooming in your chest. Before any of them can recover, Professor Park’s voice cuts across the room once more. “Break is over. Back to your seats.”
The trio lingers for a second longer, hatred filled in their eyes, but they move away with the rest of the class' attention as the lecture resumes.
The headache that's been threatening since this morning has finally arrived in full.
After Transmutation Theory, the final class of the day, finally ends, you trail behind the last wave of first-years exiting the classroom. Your fingers ache from taking notes, brain swimming in formulas and mass-to-mana ratios. You rub your temples frustratedly, half-wishing for a minor healing potion and half-wishing for unconsciousness.
The day has been excruciatingly long.
The worst part isn't even the schoolwork, although the assignments are piled high enough to crush any student. The worst part are the whispers that seem to fill every classroom, each corridor.
They follow you wherever you go.
If there was ever any doubt, it is gone now. Jimin was correct. Entirely, painfully correct. The nobles were coming at you with gossip and sharp tongues.
You lost count of how many times you caught eyes lingering on you, how many conversations halted mid-sentence when you passed. Some were more blatant than others—a few first-years had even smirked openly when you entered the library, no doubt already imagining themselves superior to the "slum-born necromancer clawing her way up through seduction."
Apparently, slum-born girls don’t get attention unless they’re offering something in return.
When you heard that one, you had laughed. Loud enough for those spreading it to flinch. But after the fifth time you heard it—and the seventh—you started laughing a little less. And now, as you near the Grand Hall, the edges of your composure are beginning to fray.
Once you enter, the warmth of the hall hits you in an instant— twin rows of glowing crystal chandeliers cast light across the area, their reflections shimmering faintly in the polished floor. Long rectangular tables stretch from one end of the hall to the other packed with students draped in the shades of the Academy's robes.
Every head turns to you.
Lifting your head, your steps remain even. You will not shrink; you won't give them the satisfaction.
Across the room, you find them— your friends, seated at their usual table, already halfway through dinner. Yuqi waves at you and relief crosses her face when your eyes meet hers. She gestures to the empty seat beside her and you head straight for it, ignoring the trail of whispers that follow you.
The moment you sit down, Shuhua already leans in. Her eyes are alight with familiar mischief. “So,” she begins, voice filled with curiosity. “Why does half the school think you've tamed two of the most impossible men in the Academy?”
You sigh, tipping your head back against the chair-rest. “I’d rather face Kwon again than have this conversation.”
“That bad, huh?” Soyeon asks, arching a brow.
“Worse,” you mutter. “It followed me through every single class. I couldn’t take three steps without someone assuming I’d invited Jungkook and Taehyung into my bed.”
Yuqi’s smile falters, her teasing look softening in an instant. “You know none of us believe that, right?”
Shuhua nods quickly and the playful tone in her voice disappears. “Obviously. You’re not the type to bother with that kind of nonsense. Not when you have a far more thrilling relationship with life itself.”
“Besides,” Soyeon adds, “anyone who actually knows you would laugh themselves sick at the thought of you swooning over nobles.”
Their words ease the nerves in your stomach if only slightly. You hadn't realized how much you needed to hear that. “Thank you.” you murmur softly.
Yuqi reaches out under the table, giving your wrist a quick squeeze. “Don’t let them get in your head. They’re just jealous. They can’t stand that someone like you is standing at the same level they’re so desperate to protect.”
“At least you have Taehyung on your side.” She adds with a mischievous smirk.
“Oh goddess.” you mutter.
Shuhua grins and seizes the opportunity. “He did wink at you in the market. You can’t deny that.”
“Maybe he had something in his eye.”
“Maybe you were in his eye. Like you are right now.”
You nearly choke on your water. “Stop.”
The other girls chuckle, and despite the exhale leaving you, you cannot help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
From across the room, the unmistakable presence of the Elite Table draws your attention.. You don’t mean to look—but your eyes move upward before you can stop them.
There, beneath the arched stained-glass window, five of them are seated.
Jung Hoseok is the first to come into view— the usual grin on his face is replaced by something more thoughtful. Beside him sits Min Yoongi, colder eyes than Jungkook's flicking lazily over the hall without betraying a hint of emotion. Kim Seokjin leans back with the kind of arrogance that would infuriate you if it didn't fit him so well. And Park Jimin looks the most relaxed, though there's an edge beneath his languid posture as his fingers drum lightly against the edge of his goblet.
And then there is Taehyung.
He sits slightly apart from the others, elbow propped on the table, fingers tapping a slow, idle rhythm against his chin. His eyes meet yours almost instantly—as if he’d been waiting for the chance. There’s no smirk this time.
You glance away swiftly, heart skipping once against your will.
He must have heard. He'd have to be deaf not to. And I doubt Jennie would let it rest until he did.
That thought pulls your gaze sideways—where the devil herself sits like royalty presiding over the court.
Jennie is seated upright. Her crimson lips are curved into a smile too sharp for pleasantries. Lisa lounges next to her, one boot crossed over her knee whilst her eyes are disinterested, though her lips twitch faintly at something Rose says. Jisoo's expression, as always, is carved from ice and she, too, listens to her friend speak.
Jennie's gaze lock onto yours. And if looks could kill, you'd already be sprawled across the marble table. Not the most awful way to die, you'd always expected it to be in the gutter somewhere in the Iron Quarters where nobody could find your body. Sorry. Too grim.
Forcing your eyes down to your plate, your hand curl unconsciously around the edges. The words you've repeated to yourself all day echo through your mind again—you’re stronger than this, don’t let them win. But right now, they don't sound very convincing.
You can’t do this right now.
Without another word, you shove back from the table, rising abruptly.
“Hey,” Yuqi says quickly, reaching out. “Where are you going?”
“Out,” you reply curtly. The crack in your voice is too obvious, to your dismay. You swallow and try again. “I just need air.”
Soyeon studies your face for a short second, her usual sharp gaze softening just slightly.
“Do you need one of us to come with you?” Shuhua asks softly, all traces of teasing gone now.
You manage a thin smile—gratitude too big for words in this moment. But you shake your head lightly, turn around and leave the Grand Hall, with each step being faster than the last.
The moment the doors close behind you, the knot in your chest loosens just barely enough to let you breathe.
From the far end of the hall, crystal goblets are filled with imported wine, porcelain cutlery cuts through meals too beautiful to touch and a lazy laughter curls through the Elite table.
At the center of it all, Jennie is seated with her chin propped elegantly on her hand as she absentmindedly plays with a slice of sugared plum on her plate. Her half-lidded gaze is alert, but she doesn’t need to hear the words to recognize the shift is in her favor.
“She didn't even finish her food,” Lisa remarks, slowly swirling the goblet in her hand. “She looked like she might throw up..”
A smug smirk crosses Jennie's face. “Would you stay if every student was whispering about whose bed you crawled into last night?”
Taehyung, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet at the end of the table, finally looks up. He glances at the two girls and raises a brow in confusion. “So the rumors are true?”
“They’re rumors. Truth is optional.” Jennie muses.
Taehyung's expression doesn't change, but the tone of his voice drops. “That’s not what I asked.”
Before she can answer, Seokjin speaks up from across the table, lounging like this is just another theater play he’s barely paying attention to. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? She was seen near the practice yard with Jungkook. That’s more than enough to get people talking.”
A colder edge slips into Taehyung's gaze. “That doesn’t mean anything happened.”
“She disappeared for hours yesterday,” Rose chimes in, idly twirling a loose strand of hair around one finger. “And now both you and Jungkook are hovering. It’s not like we made it up from nothing.”
“So you're the one who started this?” Taehyung’s voice is too calm as he looks at Jennie— the kind of calm that is more threatening than raised voices would ever be.
Jennie’s shoulders stiffen. “It wasn’t just me,” she says quickly, lips pursed into a thin line. “Seokjin suggested it during morning lecture. Lisa helped spreading it through the Conservatory girls. And Yoongi…” she gestures loosely to where he sits with one arm propped against the table, only half-listening, “said it would die out in a few days.”
Yoongi doesn’t look up. He lifts his glass with the same casual grace he always does and simply says, “And you'll see that I'm right.”
Lisa shrugs, leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “You’re acting like we started a war. It’s just a few rumors. And anyway, it’s not like it will affect you.”
Taehyung just stares at them. “You made her the center of a scandal. And for what?”
Jennie scoffs lightly, though there’s a slight crack under the sound. “Don’t act like you care.. You've heard the nobles talk about it and now, all of a sudden you want to act like we personally offended you?”
“I figured it was just some petty nobles making up some dumb rumors,” Taehyung answers tightly. “Anyway, she has done nothing to deserve that, but all of you sat here, tearing her apart like she’s entertainment.”
“She’s from the slums,” Seokjin mutters, his voice laced with disdain. “And she caught the eye of two Elites. It’s laughable. This is just the world reminding her where she stands.”
Taehyung’s jaw clenches. “She never asked for anyone’s attention.”
Lisa lets out a soft sigh. “You don’t have to defend her, you know. You’re not the one they’re tearing down. Men never suffer the consequences for rumors such as this one. She's the only one who will get branded. You will not.”
There’s a long silence, followed by the scrape of a chair. Taehyung stands up. “This is pathetic,” he mutters. His disappointed gaze sweeps across the others. “All this power, and this is how you use it.”
Jennie straightens abruptly, voice raised. “Where are you going?”
“Away from this.” His eyes don’t turn to her. “You all sound like bored children.”
He’s gone a second later, cloak rustling softly behind him as he disappears through the doors. Jennie stares after him with her jaw clenched. Her hands, perfectly still before, are now clenched beneath the table. “He always walks away when things get inconvenient,” she says under her breath.
Lisa leans in closer, resting her arm lightly around Jennie's shoulder. “He’s just in one of his moods again,” she reassures calmly, brushing a speck of dust from Jennie’s sleeve with a flick of her fingers. “You know how he is. In a bad mood one moment, then charming the next. He’ll get over it.”
Jennie doesn’t answer. Her gaze is still fixed on the doors Taehyung disappeared through.
Seokjin exhales a long breath and reclines deeper into his chair. “Let him throw his little tantrum. He'll remember exactly why slum-born girls don't survive in our world sooner or later.”
Across from them, Jimin has been silent through the entire ordeal. Now, his gaze drifts from one speaker to the next. His fingers tap once against his goblet. His lips part slightly—as if a thought hovered—but he ended up not saying anything.
Some battles were not worth joining yet.
But Hoseok chuckles softly. He tips his goblet back with a smooth, lazy grace and sets it down. “Well,” he drawls in amusement. “whatever she may be, the girl certainly knows how to draw a room’s attention and a little chaos in this place… that I do enjoy.”
Seokjin arches a brow. “Seriously? Even you can’t charm your way out of that one, Hoseok.”
“I never said I would,” Hoseok replies, smile tilting. “But watching it unfold? I wouldn’t miss it.”
After leaving the Grand Hall, you don't head back to the dorms.
Instead, you follow the winding path between torchlit hedges and stone archways as exhaustion still tugs at your limbs. The voices are still stuck in your head; their laughter cutting in all the right places. Pity hidden behind tight smiles and side glances.. None of them dared say your name out loud.
Your fingers tighten slightly in the folds of your sleeve. You know better than to let words get under your skin. It's not the first time people have whispered nasty rumors behind your back. It's not the first time they've tried to make you feel small and shameful.
And yet, somehow, this time the hurt is worse.
You try not to hate the nobles— those born into marble towers and taught to sneer from birth, but it's difficult not to let the loathing seep in when their eyes look at you like you're mud dragged into their perfectly polished world. As if the mere idea of someone like you breathing the same air is offensive.
But then you remember Namjoon standing in that narrow alleyway in the Capital, watching over a small boy as if kindness was second nature to him. Something had changed your view then, you had been nearly hopeful.
So maybe not Namjoon..
And maybe not Taehyung either.
There’s still something about him you haven’t figured out. He had looked at you like he saw something. Whether it was curiosity or something more dangerous, you’re still uncertain. But he had never mocked you. Not like the others do when they think you're not listening. Certainly not like Jennie and Jungkook had done.
And then there’s Jimin. Cryptic Jimin. Who never says much unless he wants it to matter. You don’t know why he warned you back then, but his words echo louder now than they did when he first said them: They’ll come for you in ways you won’t expect. He wasn’t wrong, and in a way, he had prepared you for what was to come.
Still... there were other things to worry about besides petty noble drama.
The rumors hurt, yes—but they don’t curl around your ribs at night. They don’t follow you into sleep like the nightmares do.
You haven’t seen anything strange in the past few days—no flickers at the corner of your eye, no phantom footsteps behind you. But that doesn’t mean the dread is gone. You still remember the way the shadows writhed in your sleep. The burn of violet flames, a voice too ancient to belong to anything human. You remember the red gleam between the shelves in the library. That split-second of certainty that something had been watching you.
And you knew that silence doesn’t mean safety. It just means it’s waiting.
By the time you reach the Academy’s eastern wing, the world around you is quiet. Torches flicker along the marbled pillars, casting faint light through the arches. The training yard looms ahead.
Tugging your cloak tighter around you, you step inside, but the sharp crack of lightning stops you in your tracks.
The unmistakable form of Jungkook is already there and he hasn't noticed you yet.
His stance is focused, every movement he makes is deliberate and quick. His coat is discarded to the side, sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscled arms and sweat gleams across his temple. You watch, unsure whether to turn away or step forward and disrupt his training, but something about the scene captivates you.
With a precise sweep of his arm, a spear materializes—conjured mid-motion—and just as it takes form, lightning coils around it in a blaze of crackling light. He twists, hurls it forward, and the weapon slams into the enchanted barrier with a thunderous snap. Energy arcs in every direction, illuminating the outline of his body in gold-blue for just a second.
You’ve seen power before. You’ve even tasted it. But this is different.
It’s beautiful.
And for a moment you forget the whispers, the rumors, the ache still tucked behind your ribs. You just watch.
Until he turns around.
His eyes lock onto yours and, for a mere second, surprise flickers across his face. It's gone as fast as it had appeared, hidden beneath the same, cold wall he always wears.
His voice cuts through the air. “Are you lost?”
Opening your mouth to say something, the words get lost in your throat. Instead, you stammer a: “I- No.. I was just..”
“What—are you following me now?”
You lift your chin slightly, though the words don’t come as fast as they usually do.
His eyes narrow at your silence, and the conjured lance disappears with a flick of his hand, leaving only a trail of smoke and a loud crackle behind.
“Well?” He prompts. “If you’ve come to gawk, don’t bother pretending it’s for training.”
“I didn’t know you were here,” you finally manage to say, “I just needed some air.”
You don’t know what makes you say it.
Perhaps it's the frustration from the whispers and stares still burning in your chest. Or perhaps it's the way your hands still itch for something to fight that isn't rumor or silence. Or maybe.. it's the way he moved, each strike quick and without hesitation —like the entire world could fall apart and he’d somehow still land on his feet.
“Fight me.”
“Excuse me?”
For a moment, you hesitate whether to continue. This wasn't how you imagined saying it, if you ever did. There's no sarcasm on your tongue, no brilliant retort.
“I want to spar,” you say again, more evenly this time. “With you.”
His gaze sweeps over you once, “You want to fight me?”
There’s something in his voice that isn’t quite disbelief. More like... suspicion.
You nod sternly. “Yes.”
Jungkook lets out a scoff, dragging a hand through his hair as if the sheer absurdity of the idea irritates him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
A pause follows, one filled with tension and something that feels strangely like curiosity. He studies you as though trying to find the punchline. When he doesn’t, he lets out a sigh. “You’re not ready. What if you lose control again?”
“I won't let it get that far,” You say. “If I can't handle it, I'll surrender.”
Jungkook exhales slowly, though the expression in his face shifts slightly. “This is a waste of time.”
You don’t respond. Instead, you let your steady stance speak for you. He watches you a moment longer, then finally gives the smallest of nods.
“Fine. But don't think I'll go easy on you.”
Excitedly, you nod. “I wouldn't dream of it.”
taglist
@enfppuff
hope confessing to you
pairing: hope estheim x gn!reader
tags: awkward & flustered!hope, mutual romantic feelings, kissing
hope has been… acting strange, lately. he's been avoiding you, though whenever he was with you, it was as if he clung to your every word and you had his undivided attention
this hot and cold behaviour of his began to confuse you. and hope isn't stupid, he knows that it's bothering you…
so, hope decides to explain to you what's been going on with him, why he's been acting so odd around you lately
when he gets a quiet moment with you, hope ends up pouring out his heart to you, confessing that he's been in love with you all this time
“i know we've been friends for a while, but lately, i– i started to see you differently. i didn't want to tell you, at first, but i can't just pretend like i don't love you. because… i do. i'm in love with you.”
it's a lot to take in, especially since you didn't expect a love confession! you worried you might've done something to upset hope, but he's been in love with you this whole time?
“you don’t have to say anything now, of course. i just thought i owed you an explanation as to why i acted the way i did…” hope sighs, as you remain quiet
but only seconds later, you pull him into a kiss, letting actions speak louder than words – and flustering poor hope in the process!
Sleepy Head
Female vampire reader x Hope Mikaelson
Summary: You don't want to get out of bed in the morning, but Hope has different plans
Warnings: swearing
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Hope woke up to the sound of the blaring alarm clock on the nightstand and quickly turned it off. Looking down, wrapped in her arms, you groaned, not wanting to get out of bed.
Charmcaster x male s/o headcanons
Much like Charmcaster, s/o was also a resident of Legerdomain who escaped the magical dimension after Addwaitya’s takeover.
S/o’s parents sacrificed themselves while fighting Addwaitya, buying their young son enough time to flee to Earth, where he survived on his own for many years until the now 15 year old boy ran into Hex and his niece Charmcaster.
“I sense a lot of magic in you boy. Who are you?”
Hex asks him with a stern yet curious voice as Charmcaster stares at s/o silently with a hint of a blush on her face.
“Hmm…he’s kinda cute.”
She thinks to herself before s/o answers her uncle’s question.
“M-my name is s/o.”
“S/o?! Could you be the child of (Mother’s Name) and (Father’s Name)?!”
When s/o nods, Hex realizes that the teenager is a fellow survivor of Legerdomain, having known his parents before Addwaitya’s conquest of their home.
Hex proceeds to tell s/o that he and his niece are also from Legerdomain and asks if he would like to join them, which the young magic user happily says yes to, much to Charmcaster’s hidden glee.
Since joining up with Hex and Charmcaster, s/o had gotten extremely close to the white haired witch, eventually leading to the two developing feelings for one another.
As time passed, s/o became fed up with the way Hex treated him and his own niece, so he tries convincing Charmcaster to get away from her uncle.
“Why do you let him treat you so badly Charmcaster? All he does is berate and threaten you.”
“H-he’s the only family I have left s/o. Plus I’m afraid what he’d do to if I stood up to him.”
She tells him while looking down sadly.
“Hex may be a master magician, but you and I have magic too, and we can stand up to him together if we combine our power.”
“Why do you care about my well being so much s/o?”
Charmcaster asks him with a hint of hostility in her voice as s/o sighs and decides that now’s the time to confess.
“Because you’re important to me. I love you Charmcaster.”
He tells her honestly, making her blush profusely because looking at him warmly.
“….Hope.”
She says to him, much to his confusion.
“What?”
“That’s my real name. Where we come from, names have power, and I feel comfortable telling you mine because….I love you too s/o.”
She kisses him, which he sinks into as the two enter a long lasting relationship.
True to s/o’s word, he and Hope confront Hex, much to the skull-faced sorcerer’s fury.
“Charmcaster! You dare turn on your uncle?! Your own flesh and blood?!”
“I’m done with your harsh words and threats uncle! S/o and I are through following you!”
Hex turns his attention to s/o and glares at him.
“You turned my niece against me. For that, both of you shall face the consequences!”
The three proceed to fight, with Charmcaster and s/o overpowering Hex and leave him to his own devices as they begin doing their own thing together.
As a couple, s/o and Hope are quite the force to be reckoned with and are constantly found going up against the Tennyson family.
While Hope has formed a rivalry with Gwen, s/o quickly becoming enemies with Ben, whom he enjoys fighting no matter what alien form the 10 year old wielder of the Omnitrix takes.
“That freaky watch of yours is no match for my magic Tennyson!”
“Heh, whatever you say s/o. I’m gonna enjoy kicking your butt!”
Despite being a pair of powerful magic users, s/o and Charmcaster often have their plans foiled by the Tennyson family, much to their annoyance.
“Ugh, that boy got the best of me again! A sorcerer like me constantly getting defeated by a child! Laughable!”
“Calm down s/o, I know how you feel, but we’ll get them next time.”
Hope gives her boyfriend a small smile, causing him to relax a little as the two escape from the scene before the authorities arrive to arrest them.
On the rare occasion one of them does get taken into custody, the other will waste no time in breaking them out.
“Took you long enough s/o. If I had to spend one more night here I was gonna lose it.”
“Sorry for the wait Hope, but it took longer to find you than expected.”
“It’s fine, let’s just get out of here already.”
S/o nods and hands his girlfriend her spellbook and magic bag as she kisses his cheek before they proceed to break out of the prison.
While they are technically dangerous criminals, s/o and his girlfriend do try to live a somewhat normal life by going out on dates like other teenagers do.
“This is honestly really nice. I enjoy spending time with you Hope.”
S/o tells her as the two snuggle on a park bench together.
“Me too s/o.”
While her boyfriend isn’t the jealous type, Hope very much is.
If a girl would approach s/o and talk to him, Charmcaster will not hesitate to scare the girl away by any means necessary.
“Was that really necessary Hope? You and I are trying not to garner unwanted attention remember?”
He asks her after she summoned a couple rock monsters from her bag, causing two girls he was talking with to run away absolutely terrified.
“Well excuse me if I don’t enjoyed seeing my boyfriend being flirted with!”
She scoffs at him as he shakes his head and kisses her cheek.
“They weren’t flirting with me babe, they just wanted directions. Besides, you know you’re the only girl for me. No need to be jealous.”
“I was not jealous.”
The sorceress pouts as her boyfriend chuckles.
“Sure, whatever you say Hope.”
He chuckles and hugs his girlfriend affectionately, making her blush as the two continue on with the date they were having.
Throughout the years of them being together, Charmcaster has a tendency to let her lust for power get the better of her, to which s/o always tries to save her from, sometimes with the help of their former enemies : The Tennysons.
“Babe, don’t let the power of the Alpha Rune control you! You’re better than that! Please, come back to your senses!”
He pleads, hoping to get through to his girlfriend.
Even if he gets hurt in the process, s/o will do whatever he can to help the woman he loves.
Should she ever badly hurt s/o during a power trip, a severe sense of guilt overtakes Hope once she returns to normal.
“N-no…what have I done?!”
She’ll immediately use any form of healing spell on s/o to make sure he’ll be alright.
“I-I’m so sorry s/o!”
Tears run down her face as s/o wipes them away and smiles at her weakly.
“Don’t be. No matter what you do, I’ll always forgive you Hope. I love you.”
She embraces him tightly, but despite her boyfriend’s words, Hope can never fully forgive herself for hurting the person she loves, despite his constant reassurance.
Charmcaster always had a strong desire to return to Legerdomain and reclaim it from Addwaitya, which she has done several times with temporary success even with her boyfriend’s support, but after years of constantly improving their magic, she and s/o face Addwaiya once again in the hopes of finally avenging their parents.
“Ah, the daughter of Spellbinder and the son of (Parents’ Names) challenge me once again I see. You two are persistent, but this time you will meet the same fate as all others who stand in my way.”
The magic turtle-like alien says to the two.
“You’re wrong Addwaiya, it’s you who will die today! You’ll pay for all the innocent lives of my people you’ve taken, including my father!”
Charmcaster exclaims angrily as s/o stands beside her.
“And my parents! Your rule over Legerdomain ends now! Ready babe?”
Hope nods at her boyfriend as they proceed to engage Addwaitya in magic combat.
After a long and arduous battle, the magical couple use all the power they can muster to wipe Addwaitya from existence, thus saving Legerdomain from the tyrant permanently.
Once Addwaitya is gone forever, Charmcaster and s/o collapse onto the ground in complete and utter exhaustion.
“We…finally did it Hope.”
S/o says to his girlfriend while breathing heavily.
“Yeah…I almost…can’t believe it. Thanks for fighting by my side babe.”
She smiles at him, which he returns.
“Of course. I love you Hope.”
“I love you too s/o.”
As the magical energies of Legerdomain restore the two’s strength, they slowly move closer to each other and embrace while sharing a passionate kiss, both looking forward to ruling Legerdomain together now that it is 100% Addwaitya free.
You were surrounded by bugs. You had no ammo left, and they were beginning to back you into a corner. Suddenly, someone started shooting at the bugs from afar.
"Saw you needed some help, Hun." Hope says, walking up to you, gun in hand. She hands you some ammo and pats you on the shoulder. "Glad you're alright." She gives you a kiss on the cheek and leads you over to the next area.
@hope-and-a2s-boywife I hope you like it... I'm writing x reader drabbles now and I'm dedicating the first one to you :3
(Divider by @kodaswrld)
