#(not looking like Golden would be literally their plan but shh) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sxfik · 3 years ago

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he’s earth and heaven to you (you can’t conceal it)

read on ao3 • main masterlist • law school masterlist

summary: Kang Sol A, just wants a one normal year. Just one year without some kind of explosion, or murder, or world ending event. Unfortunately, disaster has struck in the form of a 5' 11" insufferable, quidditch player and genius Han Joon Hwi and their friends who thought it was great idea to lock the two in a cupboard.

word count: 11.5k words

a/n: user niki is back at it with another au fluff/light angst fic because the solhwi brainrot never ends. this is the project i've been working on since finals and all throughout this time, but honestly planned so so long ago (like august 2021). i quite literally just started writing and then i blinked and it became like 11k so i hope yall enjoy this!! dedicated to my loves aki, anne, mika and jul because i literally planned this fic AGES ago with them and then never fucking wrote it because im a moron. (ilyyyy)

— end of sixth year —

PREFECT KANG SOL A wasn’t planning of ending her sixth year with a bang. She had her share of trouble in her first four years at hogwarts, trying to get rid of the corruption within the Ministry of Magic and saving her friend group from getting charged with various crimes. After a rollercoaster of a school career, she was hoping that she could just get her gingersnap cookies for a pleasant sleepover with the girls.

Clearly, the universe thought that she needed to go through a little more trouble to earn her happy ending. This time around, trouble came in the form of the most insufferable, egotistical, smug and arrogant boy she had ever met. And what’s worse? She’s currently trapped in a cupboard with him.

"Shh," the warm brown eyes of a certain Han Joon Hwi looked into her eyes when she opened her mouth to question him. His palm was smacked across her mouth, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, his face illuminated by the small light emanating from his wand.

There was only a couple inches of space between their bodies, the narrow broom closet barely having enough room to fit both of them. Most of the female population at Hogwarts would kill to be in her position, squeezed in a tight room with the most sought after boy at Hogwarts.

Well, Kang Sol A was decidedly not a part of that.

Han Joon hwi, in her humble opinion, was a menace. Not only was he one of the smartest wizards to grace the halls of Hogwarts, he was also a good sportsman, charismatic and overly kind. He was a loyal to his friend group, the self-named Maruarders, and even helped in her quest to uproot the corruption with in the Ministry.

One look at her list and you would say Well, he sounds like an amazing guy!

That precisely was the problem. He had everything in the palm of his hand: good looks, money and the golden child of a rich, pure-blood family where the Gryffindor legacy was prided above everything else. He got every single thing he wanted as soon as he set his sight on it.

Well, Kang Sol decided quite swiftly after he cracked a taunting smirk at her on the first day, that she would not be one of them.

“What are you doing here? It’s past curfew and you’re not supposed to be out walking here,” she whispered harshly, prying his hand off of her mouth and trying her best not to raise her voice like she desperately wanted to. She tried to ignore the warmth that bled from his body to hers, the way she can feel every tone of his well-built chest against her torso. His legs were firmly pressed up against her thighs, the cloth of his uniform pants and cloak soft against her legs.

Sol wasn’t sure what exactly about him got a rise out of her. She had met plenty of persistent boys back in the muggle world, but there was something about Joon hwi that made her fight back much harder than anyone else.

She often chalked it up to the fact that he was an arrogant, privileged boy, but if she was being truthful to herself, it was a lie. She knew, for some reason, that the issue lay somewhere within the quirk of his eyebrow, or the arrogant smirk on his face, or the infuriating gaze of his. It was as though they were designed to drive her insane, each gesture only driving her up the wall, and for some reason, it had her body itching to press up against his.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Joon hwi quirked an eyebrow infuriatingly.

“Well, I asked first!” she sputtered, trying to tamp down the flutter in her stomach when he looked down at her lips. As if realizing the position they were in, he shifted his body away from her, trying to flatten himself against the wall and in a moment of weakness, she almost whined in complaint.

“If I tell you, you also have to tell me what you’re doing here. Deal?” he asked, tapping his wand lightly to keep the dark room lit. Sol bit her lip as he stared down at her, trying to keep her thoughts straight as his dark eyes followed her every movement.

“Deal.”

“I was going to meet up with Ji ho to make some plans for a prank but then I saw Filch coming by so I hid in here,” Joon hwi explained, as he twisted to peak out of the sliver of an opening on the closet door, trying to make sure no one was in the corridor.

“A prank?” she yelled out, but her voice was quickly muffled by Joon hwi’s hand once more.

“Be quiet,” he gritted out, turn his head to make sure no one was walking by the cupboard. “A deal is a deal. Tell me why you’re here.”

“Whenever the house elves make gingersnap cookies for dinner, they always drop off a batch here for me and the girls,” she murmured out, her eyes cast down at her shoes rather than meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Joon hwi smirked, leaning closer to her, if it was even possible to do that given how close they were already. “Wow, does Lady Justice run an illicit cookie ring?” he teased lightly, and annoyance grew in her throat as she looked up at Joon hwi’s smug face.

“I wanted some cookies, okay!” she said, exasperated. “They’re delicious and they always run out before I get my fill. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure you weren’t allowed to do any more pranks this year.”

“Sol-ah, you know as well as I do that the school needs at least a bit of levity during these times,” Joon hwi sighed, his expression growing solemn. “No one’s had a real laugh since, well. Since the threats from the beginning of this year.”

Sol only sighed in response. She knew he was right. After Assemblyman Ko’s removal from the ministry of magic in their third year, their survival at Hogwarts had been on the precipice of destruction. The threat of war loomed above them, and the fear had only gotten worse after the dementor attack on the train to Hogwarts at the beginning of the year.

Parents were worried about their safety, and rightfully so. Her mother had owled her, finally figuring out how to send one from the muggle world into Hogwarts, and begged her to stay home, especially after Kang Dan’s disappearance from Hogwarts in their second year. Her mother couldn’t stand to lose two of her three daughters, but Sol would hear none of it.

Hogwarts was her opportunity to move up in the world, secure a better future for her mother and Byeol. Her ambition was appreciated here, and for the first time, it felt like it was going to pay off. She poured herself in her studies for the past five years and damn her, she was going to graduate from Hogwarts as a full witch.

“Plus, if it makes you feel any better, it’s Bok-gi and Ye-beom leading it this time around, not me.” He sent her a weak smile, noticing how her mood had darkened.

Sol snorted. “That makes me more worried, not less. There’s a 90% chance things go wrong when they plan. At least when you plan it, there’s only a 75% chance,” she murmured.

“Oh, why thank you so much,” he grinned at her as she scowled in return. The grin washed off his face, as he looked down at her, his eyes holding an earnesty that Sol couldn’t bear to handle. “I trust you won’t report me for this?” he asked softly.

“Of course I won’t,” she sighed, giving in. As much as he rankled her, he was good for school spirit. “I know how much everyone needs a laugh right now,” she said quietly.

Sol tilted her head up to meet his gaze once more, and drew a sharp breath at his soft expression. For a moment, all she could think of was the boy in front of her, the way he smelled of rain, the quidditch pitch and clean parchment. The way his school shirt felt against hers, the way his tie was slightly askew.

Her eyes roamed the soft lightly tanned skin of his, almost radeint in the glow illuminating the cupboard, his warm chocolate eyes swirling with something earnest and true, something that made her want to shy away from his gaze. For a moment, she wanted to give in, to allow herself into his arms, before steeling herself in a reminder that she would not be the next trophy in his brilliant trophy case.

Kang Sol A was not a prize to be won.

“It looks like the coast is clear. I bid thee adieu, my lady,” Joon hwi winked, smirking at her as though the moment never happened, before he grasped the door to the cupboard and opened the door. Or at least, tried to open the door.

The door for some reason decided to get stuck, not budging an inch as Joon hwi fiddled with the handle. He stood there trying to move it with increasing force, before she interrupted.

“Move aside, I’m sure a spell will work better,” Sol bumped into him as she pulled out her wand, barely able to move without being pressed against him more than she already was.

“Alohomora,” she cast, the white light emitting from her wand. “Now try it,” she gestured to the door. Joon hwi went to jiggle the handle once more, and was met with failure again.

“Here, let me try,” he said as he pulled out his own wand.

“I can’t believe you’re questioning my skills,” she scoffed, crossing her arms but moving out of the way for him to have a go. It’s no secret that Han Joon hwi was the best of their class, but still stung that he assumed she couldn’t even cast a simple spell.

“I’m not trying to-”

“Yeah, yeah,” she cut him off with a look of annoyance, “Just try it.”

His jaw clenched slightly, the familiar tick of his muscle showing through as he stared at her for a moment in irritation, before twisting back to the door. Flicking his wand in the perfect formation, he cast the same spell, and in a glimmer of hope, the door creaked open, only to be slammed shut with a red glow.

“What in merlin is wrong with this door?” he cursed out, yanking at the door knob. He tucked his wand into his cloak and attempted to throw his weight into it, trying to force it open, with no such luck. Sol only watched as he struggled, the furrow growing between her eyes as she watched Joon hwi put his might into it.

“Having fun in there?” a deep, familiar voice rang out from behind the door, mirth cloaking his voice.

“Ji ho? What the hell?” Joon hwi questioned, a furrow forming on his forehead as he stared confused at the door.

“It’s not just him, give me some credit as well,” a feminine voice answered in place of Ji ho’s.

Sol’s eyes widened in recognition. Kang Sol B.

“What in merlin?” Sol A hissed, before Joon hwi could get a word out. “Get us out of here!”

“No,” Sol B’s level voice replied.

“No?” both Joon hwi and Sol A chorused in confusion.

“We’re tired of listening to you to complain about each other all year,” Ji ho replied nonchalantly.

“So instead of telling us that, you decided to lock us in here?”

“Yes. The only way this resolves is if you two actually talk to each other, instead of us,” Sol B’s calm voice replied, the level cadence that once used to sooth Sol A turning into a taunt. Almost as though she’s challenging her to face the truth. Truth? The truth is that Sol resented Joon hwi. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Oh, and don’t even try to use magic. The charm on this door only wears away if the two of your actually reach a resolution. Try not to kill each other!” Ji ho chuckled at the end, clearly satisfied.

Sol strained her ears for more, trying to figure out if either of her so-called friends were still out there, only to be met with the sounds of their footsteps getting further and further from them.

“Merlin, I regret letting Ji ho borrow books from my uncle’s library,” Joon hwi ground out, shutting his eyes in regret.

“Huh?”

He let out a sigh. “Before my uncle died, he used to collect a lot of charms books. It was his specialty you know,” his paused, an emotion passing his face that was tinged with regret, and anger and something more.

Sol, despite avoiding Joon hwi with all her heart, considered herself pretty good at reading what he felt. Call it a sixth sense, but she was always aware of him, his movements, every slight change in his behavior. Still, it was hard to pinpoint what Joon hwi felt about his uncle, even though she was well aware of Joon hwi and his uncle’s rocky relationship after begrudgingly defending him in the defamation case.

She just nodded along, urging him to continue with his thoughts.

“We used to raid his book collection and I allowed him borrow books about emotion-based charms. It can detect and evaluate the emotions of either the user or the people it’s casted on,” he explained to her.

“That makes sense. Plus, Sol B is a goddess at engineering new spells so with both of them working together...” Sol trailed off.

“...It would have been a simple spell,” Joon hwi finished for her. A beat of silence passed.“Honestly, we should regret getting them together more than anything,” he let out a soft laugh.

“Well, I clearly recall that being your idea,” she huffed.

“As if. Don’t tell me you weren’t tired of watching them compete with each other and then pretend they weren’t hooking up!”

“They were hooking up that whole time? I didn’t know that,” she said, confused. Sol B and Ji ho’s relationship was always special, but Sol B was her best friend. She would know if Sol B was with Ji ho before they started their relationship, right?

“You didn’t?”

“No,” she blinked, confused.

“Did you never notice how they regularly wore each other’s ties? Or the time they turned in each other’s charms essays?”

Sol blinked, thinking back to fifth year, trying to sort through her memories for what Joon hwi was talking about, only to come up blank. Most of what she could remember was fighting against the Ministry of Magic, being increasingly annoyed at Joon hwi’s every move, and spending intense study nights at the library.

“So...” he trailed off.

“So?”

“You’ve been talking about me?” he smirked.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. It’s more like complaining if anything.”

“All I’m getting from this is that you talk about me,” Joon hwi sang, a wide smirk across his features.

Sol clenched her jaw, pursing her lips at the annoyance unfurling in her chest. See, this was what always happened. As soon as they were getting along, or having a normal conversation, he’d tease or poke or worst of all, ask her out.

“Right, well is there any way in those books of your uncle’s to short circuit the system?” she asked, twisting to the door even though she knew it wouldn’t budge.

”What?”

“You know, try to trick it,” she waved her hand around frantically, trying to gesture to the door. All she really wanted were her cookies, and instead she was trapped in having to ‘resolve’ their issues.

“You’d rather try to trick the spell than I don’t know... try to actually work this out?” he looked at her incredulous.

“Let’s be honest, why would that ever happen?” she blurted out, the words flowing out before she could stop herself. She didn’t mean it, but it was easier to snap at him than have an actual conversation.

A conversation was a chance, a glimmer of hope that Sol could like the boy, or worse, fall in love with him. But she knew, out of a sense of preservation for herself and him, that even the notion of something more between them was dangerous news.

Joon hwi blinked, a hint of shock crossing his face and Sol felt the instant regret flood her body.

“Look if this is about punching Yeong-chang in our fifth year, I’m sorry for what I did after but I don’t regret punching him,” he started. “I know you think I’m a git, but I watched him use an unforgivable on Ye-Seul and I just—”

“No... I-” Sol quickly cut him off, stumbling to find the words, “No, I’m not angry over that. I... I was angry at the time, but you were right. And the only reason I’d ever be angry over that is because I wasn’t the first to hex him.”

“Then why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“No? It sure feels like it.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said softer, looking into his eyes with as much earnestness as she could muster. “I disliked you because you asked me out.”

“You hated me because I liked you?” he asked, confused.

“I’m angry because you didn’t even consider how it would affect me when you asked me out,” she continued, pointedly ignoring the word hate, because she didn’t hate him. Resent? Sure. Dislike? Yeah. But never hate. “I don’t think you understood what I faced when I rejected a pureblood like you.”

Realization struck his face faster than Sol could process, Joon hwi’s features contorting to regret. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s fine. Really, other than a couple girls, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. But, asking me out, even if it was a joke, made the rejection even harder on me. And after the Ye-Seul fiasco in our fifth year, she got pulled into it with people whispering that you ‘dumped one piece of trash for another.’”

“What?” he asked, outrage thrumming through his voice. “Who?”

“It doesn’t really matter now, it’s over Joon hwi. No one says anything like that anymore, don’t worry.”

“I can’t believe-” he started, running a hand through his hair desperately as he looked up at her, trying to calm himself down.“I’m so sorry Sol. If I had known I would have intervened, and I’m sorry that I didn’t even consider what you were dealing with.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “It’s how it is, you know?” she said with a weak smile.

“It shouldn’t be. There shouldn’t have been a question of your blood status at all, Sol. Ever.” his voice determined. “And I’m sorry that I acted so entitled that I didn’t consider the consequences.”

“You weren’t—”

“Yes, I was. It was unfair to act like that, even if I liked you. It was inexcusable and I’m very sorry.” he rushed out, cutting her off. “And for the record? None of the times I asked you out were a joke. But, I understand that you only consider me as a friend and I promise that I won’t ever ask you out again,” he finished firmly.

Sol opened her mouth slightly, before closing it. This was what she wanted right? Then why did it hurt so much? Sol cleared her throat instead, deciding to not to think too hard about it.

“Sounds good. Friends?” she stretched out a hand for him to shake.

“Friends,” he said almost like he had trouble believing himself, grasping her hand and shaking it. She could feel the roughness of his palms against hers, his hands worn down from thousands of quidditch practices. His hands were big, engulfing hers even in a handshake, and it felt so electric as the warmth passed from his fingers to hers.

She stood looking into his warm brown eyes, a feeling of warmth and comfort spreading through her chest as they stood with their hands in each other’s grasps, just observing each other in silence. She had no clue how long they were stood like that, and if you asked her, she could have stood there just watching him forever.

It was nice, a moment of peace, of something passing between them and all she wanted to do was freeze this moment and live in it forever. A world where they got along, that they could even have a friendship. Maybe even more than a friendship, a small voice in the back of her mind echoed, which she quickly silenced.

Friends. That’s all. Only friends.

The moment was disrupted by the sound of a click, a low glow illuminating the cupboard door breaking their concentration. The door moved, the magic glowing through the wood as it was slightly ajar to let in the light from the hallway.

Silence enveloped the room as they looked at each other, as Sol brought her hand back from his grasp. Sol was stood still in the cupboard as she watched Joon hwi gather his cloak around him, his eyes still on her as he moved towards the doorway of the cupboard.

“Hey?” she asked out.

His head turned to her, his expression almost neutral.

“Make this prank the best Hogwarts has ever seen,” she smiled softly.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Joon hwi cracked a wide, honest grin, before shrouding himself under his cloak, and disappearing into the passageways of Hogwarts.

The next day, Sol walked into the great hall, only to be met with the sight of three girls, absolutely drenched in saltwater, with more buckets of water threatening to spill at any moment, floating above their heads.

And if they were the same girls that had tormented Kang Sol A, no one said a word about it, as Sol silently uttered the incantation to undo the curse, feigning ignorance at who pulled this off. She refused to even question how he found out who they were as she sat down for breakfast, pushing the thoughts to the side when she saw the gingersnap cookies and a whole assortment of food already picked out for her on her plate.

Sol’s head snapped up to catch Joon hwi’s eye down the bench and he tipped his goblet towards her, grinning widely. She smiled back, raising her goblet in solidarity and for some reason Kang Sol couldn’t help but feel something monumental had changed between them.

— seventh year —

WHEN HEAD GIRL KANG SOL A entered Hogwarts for her seventh and final year, she was hoping it would be uneventful. After spending her first four years trying to oust the corruption that plagued the wizarding world, she was hoping for a year with normal teenage girl problems. But the one teenage girl problem she did not wish for was realizing she was head-over-heels in love with the smartest (and hottest) guy of their year, Han Joon Hwi.

If you asked her friends Ye-Seul and Sol B, the realization was long overdue. After Sol B and Ji ho trapped them in a cupboard together, and forced her to talk to Joon hwi, it felt as though their friendship was on a better path. The last month of her sixth year was more than pleasant, finally being able to merge the Marauder group with her circle of friends.

It was the best summer to date after Joon hwi invited the whole group to spend two weeks at his house (or mansion as she calls it). They spent it relaxing, getting to know each other and it ignited a twinge of regret in Sol after realizing that Joon hwi could have been her best friend if she had just given him a chance.

After the getaway, both of them were constantly owl-ing each other, trying to keep in touch and update each other on anything they missed. Joon hwi even used the floo network, despite the uncomfortableness, to visit her in the muggle world, where she spent the weekend trying to explain all the muggle traditions scattered around the town.

This, of course, meant that Joon hwi was the star of each letter that she sent to Sol B or Ye-Seul, so much so that Sol threatened to break her quill if she ever talked about Joon hwi again.

“First, you wouldn’t shut up about how much he annoyed you, now you won’t shut up about amazing he is.” Sol B wrote back after she sent her fourth letter detailing her adventures with Joon hwi.

But for some reason, the idea that she was in love with the boy she chronically rejected had only clicked in her mind after she spent the last week of summer lamenting how she couldn’t have more time with Joon hwi. It was laughable at first, especially when she spent her first couple of years avoiding and hating the insufferable, annoying, gorgeous, and attractive Joon hwi, simply because he had everything in the palm of his hand.

Sol now realizes that all she did for the first three years was deny herself the opportunity to build a friendship with a brave, kind-hearted boy. The kind that wouldn’t judge anyone for their background. The kind that was humble and endlessly forgiving. The kind that would mountains for his friends. The kind that would move mountains for her.

So obviously, when one realizes they are in love with the former bane of their existence, the most sensible option is to avoid the hell out of them

Much to her chagrin, the universe had other plans.

She was standing on Platform 9 3/4, a heavy suitcase in each hand, thrumming with excitement and anticipation for the year ahead. She had gotten her shiny head girl badge in her letter from Dumbledore, alongside a small quip that she would be excited to be working with the head boy this year.

A disheveled Joon hwi approached her, not a moment later, running his hands through his hair repeatedly, a nervous habit of his that Sol had come to learn. His hands were tracing patterns onto the pants of his school uniform, as he stood in front of her, before shooting her one of his patented grins.

“Alright, Sol-ah?” he asked, his face alight with joy as he looked at her, and his grin made Sol wonder how she resisted falling in love with him earlier.

Before Sol could properly greet the boy, he had already picked up her luggage, silently taking the load off of her and helping her carry it towards the train. She smiled gratefully at him, before following behind in peaceful silence. Well, as silent as it could be with hundreds of first-year students nervously boarding the train as if they were walking towards their deaths.

“Sol, I have to tell you something,” he started as he set her suitcase into the luggage compartment on the train, running his hand through his hair again, causing it to only look more attractive. Her hands itched to run her fingers through his hair and dishevel it for him.

“Actually, let me just show you,” he sighed, and Sol focused back on him. He dug into the pocket of his cloak, while Sol looked at him with curiosity and confusion etched on her face. He produced something shiny, the light glinting off the edge. The head boy badge.

“I know this is the last thing you want, and I swear, I think Dumbledore has gone a little crazy, but if you want me to I can–”

“You are not going to trade in the badge Joon hwi, are you kidding?” Sol laughed, her face incredulous. It’s true, she couldn’t stand him for the majority of their schooling but she assumed that he understood it changed this summer. “You’ll make a great head boy and I’m glad that I’m working with you.”

“But I wasn’t even a prefect,” he tried to argue.

“So? You already show responsibility by balancing schoolwork, being one of the youngest Quidditch captain who has brought home three of the cups, and having fun while doing it,” Sol argued back.

Joon hwi relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing up as she smiled softly at him. “Well, on to a wonderful last year eh, head girl?”

“Can’t wait head boy,” she grinned fully at him, and for a moment she forgot that she was standing in a busy train station surrounded by passengers hurrying to their trains. At that moment, all she could focus on was the boy in front of her. The boy with the disheveled hair, and the relaxed stance.

Many of the older students shot them bewildered looks as they made their way onto the train, whispers going around about how Sol A, who wouldn’t give Joon hwi the time of day, was seen spending time with him, willingly.

She underestimated how easy it was to be friends with him, to enjoy his companionship. Conversation flowed so naturally with him, but there was never a pressure to be entertaining as she felt with so many others. With him, Sol could be herself, tell him about the mundane things that happened in her life, as well as the big moments.

The prefects’ meeting in the head compartment of the train went smoother than ever, with many of the students left confused as to when Joon hwi and Sol A changed their tune about each other. Especially after notable incidents where Joon hwi started her infamous ‘Lady Justice’ nickname and she told him to go snog the giant squid.

Still, this added a complication to her initial plan to avoid him at all costs, but she thought it wasn’t too much of an issue to plan around. Kang Sol A knew that it just meant that she would have to patrol, make rounds schedules, and plan the annual dances for Hogwarts with him. They’d have plenty of time apart where she could get over this little crush of hers, right?

It wasn’t until she was stepping off the train and onto the school grounds that she realized that she was set to share the head dorms with him. Which meant that she would see him every time she stepped outside of her room. He'll be there in the common room practically every day, studying or goofing around, and she’ll have to share a bathroom with him.

Essentially, it would become impossible to avoid him.

When she expressed her catastrophic situation to her friends, who she had assumed were loyal to her, they were not sympathetic to her cause. Kang Sol B had let out a bark of laughter, followed by a smug look that had all but taunted her. The usual sympathetic and caring Ye-Seul had settled on gently teasing her, making her face turn red with embarrassment.

Of course, Ji ho had smirked and murmured something about how this spared them from seeing the sexual tension they had with each other every day which Sol had swiftly responded with a rude gesture. And when Sol suggested that she all but move into her friend’s shared dorm, both of them rolled their eyes and told her to stop being so dramatic.

But after seeing the state in which Joon hwi would walk in after Quidditch practice, she had severely underestimated how dire her situation truly was.

He had mentioned that he had Quidditch practice when she ran into him in the common room as she was making her way to do the rounds for tonight, but assumed she wouldn’t see him since her rounds ran later than the practices. But Sol’s plan to run patrols with Bok-gi ended earlier than usual since it was almost the weekend. And since both of her close friends were out hanging out with their boyfriends, she had no choice but to write her Potions essay.

Well, she did contemplate annoying Sol B and Ji ho but only god knows what Ji ho and Sol B were up to in the library tonight, so she settled on just working.

(’Studying’ was the excuse Sol B gave when Sol asked what exactly they were doing. Of course, she never specified whether she was studying for exams or studying his body.)

So Sol reluctantly tucked in for the night on the sofa of the common room, stretching her legs out after the rounds, absentmindedly playing with her quill as she came up with topic ideas for her essay. She sat there working until her mind turned into mush before the door slid open, and Joon hwi walked through the threshold with his practice jersey on.

Correction: A very sweaty Joon hwi, clad in his jersey that was sticking to his body in a sinful way, chest heaving from exertion, walked in with his broom in one hand.

If her brain was mush before, it was absolutely melted at the sight of him. Sol knew she was staring, her jaw almost on the ground as she looked at the man.

Sol was a sensible woman. She liked quiet boys, ones that were smart and passionate. Ones that were calm and didn’t pull pranks at the great hall whenever given the opportunity. Boys who would spend their nights cooped up in libraries and bookstores.

It was simply unfortunate for her poor heart that Joon hwi all of that (minus the pranking streak), AND had the athleticism of a full Olympian.

Merlin, there was just something about Joon hwi after he played Quidditch that drove her crazy. There was something about the competitive glint in his eyes, the effortless way he ran and flew on the field, the hint of arrogance as he caught the snitch that made Sol’s heart race. The way his eyebrow would quirk up and all the bravado he held on the field. It was maddening.

Sol bit her lip slightly, her breath firmly lodged in her throat as she looked at him and her mind drifted away to imagine how he would look, running across the field doing practice drills, chest heaving, and watching his muscles flex and ripple as he exerted himself.

She cleared her throat as he approached, trying to appear as if she was focusing on her studies and not his body.

“How was practice?” she asked, cursing the breathless quality of her voice, as she sat up in her seat and set the quill down.

“It was pretty good,” Joon hwi cracked a grin at her as he made his way to her, and by merlin, he was more attractive up close. Sol thought her poor heart might give out, the slight sheen of sweat covering his tan skin making him glow in the light of the fire. His hair was slightly damp from the sweat and the humidity, gently tousled from the wind.

“Try out any new strategies this week?” she asked, trying to keep him in front of her as long as possible so she could stare at him for a little longer. He launched into an explanation of everything he was trying out with the team, his eyes animated, but her eyes were roaming around his body.

She would say she was embarrassed about how she wasn’t even paying attention to what he was saying, but then she noticed how his arms would flex and move as he stretched, and all the embarrassment was thrown out the window. Whoever made the quidditch uniforms sleeveless needed an award, and Sol was ready to personally deliver it to them.

Trying to appear like she was paying attention, she absentmindedly nodded along with whatever he was saying when in reality her mind was anywhere but near quidditch.

Sol had liked boys before but never before had she felt so hazy and unhinged in her desire. She desperately wanted to take that jersey off of him, run her hands down his arms, and spend all her time admiring it.

All she could think of was how it would feel to have his arms around her, the way his fingers would grip her waist. She wanted to throw him on the couch and sit on his lap; grind her hips in circles until he begged to be inside her. She wanted to drag her nails along his muscles, along his back, feel it ripple as he moved over her. Her thighs clenched instinctively thinking about the way his deft fingers would feel against her inner thighs, teasing her until she begged him to touch her.

She had to force herself to remember how to breathe as want built in her stomach, trying her best to not let the desired show to him. It’s just what she needs, for him to know how badly she wanted him.

Then, as though it couldn’t get worse, he lifted up the corner of his jersey to dab off the sweat from his face, revealing his perfectly toned stomach.

Sol felt her face heat up, as she gawked at the way his abs tensed slightly, and she was sure that he could tell just how much it affected her, seeing him in this state. She felt frozen in desire, want, and need taking over her body and she wanted to throw caution to the wind, have him on the sofa here and now.

“Sorry, I feel disgusting right now, I’ll talk to you after I shower,” he flashed a smirk, breaking away from his monologue with mischief in his eyes, as though he knew exactly what effect it had on her and god, the confidence made her swoon. If she had less resolve, she would volunteer to join him.

Merlin, she wished she had less resolve.

She dumbly nodded at him as she watched him walk towards their shared bathroom, not trusting her voice. Her eyes were on his figure as he made his way to their shared bathroom, tracing his body with her eyes. And then she watched as he peeled the jersey off himself, his back gloriously rippling as his arms stretched.

Sol swallowed hard, feeling herself gasp involuntarily as she watched every single muscle move in his back, still sweaty and glistening off the light. From that moment on, she vowed never to have scheduled rounds on Mondays and Fridays lest she misses out on all that gloriousness.

This became routine for her for the next month, claiming she had to study in their shared common room every time Joon hwi had quidditch practice. Of course, when she saw him come in to take a shower, she would distract him by asking him questions about Quidditch and his practice strategies just to get more time with him.

Of course, Joon hwi had the audacity to invite her to his practices after a couple weeks, apparently impressed with her newfound interests in sports. It was as though he was purposely making it worse for her.

As if watching him come in after practice was torture, watching him at practice was practically killing her. Every Monday and Friday she would drag herself to the pitch, with a bag full of homework that would never get done because her focus was more on the bright boy jogging across the field, instructing his players on drills and strategies.

Just watching him exert himself was alluring, but it was even worse when he took charge of the team. The cadence of his voice as he instructed them where to go, his voice almost commanding just did something to Sol. Worse were the moments he had the audacity to look up at her and flash that bright grin of his, oblivious to all the thoughts crossing her mind as she looked at him.

Needless to say, the number of times she touched herself to the thought of him only increased from then, trying to stifle her moans as she thought of him panting and moving his body in tandem with hers.

At the end of each practice, of course, he always had her wait outside the locker rooms near the pitch, where she would try desperately to avoid Ji ho’s teasing smile or the sarcastic remark he would make before Joon hwi came out. Joon hwi insisted on accompanying her back to their shared dorms, and the conversations were always more than pleasant.

There was something different to the mundanity of the conversations they shared. Despite only growing close this year, Sol was already so familiar with his mannerisms and habits that it felt like they were best friends for years. Sol could guess exactly what Joon hwi would say or do before he even did it, and the same went for Joon hwi.

To any outsider, their conversations seemed so mundane, but for them, there was nothing more to be said when they both knew each other so well. There was a lot more joy in sharing the smallest decisions and happenings with each other, because well, they already knew about every monumental event in each other's lives. It was a familiarity that Sol knew was special, and it didn’t take very long for her to realize that she loved him much, much deeper than just romantically.

Yet the need to confess to him wasn’t something insatiable that poured out of her. It was residing underneath her skin, lurking every time he looked at her for a beat too long or gave her a smile that just made her melt. It was something that she carried with her everywhere she went, filling up her body, but never enough to burst through the seams of her skin, always held in place by her fears and their future.

It was no secret that Joon hwi was the son of one of the oldest pureblood families and being so popular, there’s no doubt that he felt pressure to continue the pureblood line, even if he didn’t believe in any of it. And Sol? She was the daughter of a muggle-born family, her mother with barely enough money to make ends meet for her sister, and Sol was always scrambling to find her place after Kang Dan disappeared in their second year. Not to mention their lives were highly surveilled after going after the Ministry of Magic.

Whatever future they could have together, it was marred by a thousand different obstacles and risks. She knew, almost intrinsically, that Joon hwi loved her just the same. But taking the leap? Allowing herself to fall for him with no inhibitions was a luxury, so she stayed content having her as a best friend.

Her conversations about him with Sol B and Ye Seul, of course, reached a record high, as the two girls would roll their eyes. They made their way into Potions, the one class that the girls and the Marauders happened to share, trying to get there before Slughorn started class.

“I can’t decide if it was better when she hated him,” Kang Sol B deadpanned, clutching her book bag to the side as she strode confidently into class, speaking as though Sol A wasn’t right beside her.

“Hey, you brought this on yourself,” Sol A chirped back, “If you hadn’t locked us in that cupboard, we would have just hated each other.”

“Maybe we should lock you in that cupboard again, hope that you two snog each other, and get rid of this tension,” Ye-seul snorted, setting her books down beside Sol A.

Sol simply scoffed, taking her seat. “It’s not that bad,” she tried to justify, but of course Ji ho found that moment to chime in.

“Au contraire, my friend in deep denial, I’m pretty sure you were drooling when Joon hwi caught the snitch at practice last week,” Ji ho smirked as he walked by Sol A, his eyes glued to her best friend.

“I was not!” Sol denied her cheeks in flames.

“Oh? Let’s ask Joon hwi then?” Ji ho smirked as he slid into his seat, before twisting towards the doorway. “Oi, Prongs! Would you say Sol was— mmph!”

Before Sol processed, her wand was in hand, stood out of her seat and she had hexed Ji ho’s mouth shut before a word could leave his mouth. Ji ho quickly twisted to glare at Sol, but Joon hwi’s towered presence blocked her line of sight.

“Five points from Gryffindor,” Joon hwi announced, his eyes filled with mirth as he looked down at Sol. “Can’t believe the head girl would act with such misconduct.”

He looked especially handsome in the morning light, his brown hair tinged gold as the light filtering through the windows glinted off. He had a soft smirk on his face, and her breath was already lodged in her throat as she looked up at him.

“Shut it, or you can be next,” Sol warned, trying to not let his effect on her cloud her threat. “Should I reverse it?” she asked as she peeked behind Joon hwi to look at Ji ho’s annoyed expression.

“Mmph!” Ji ho nodded his head in the affirmative, as Ye-seul held back laughter.

“I don’t know... It is quite peaceful without his voice,” Joon hwi mused, smirking as he twisted to look at his best friend’s pleading figure.

“Alright that’s enough,” Sol B chimed in, pulling out her wand to undo the hex.

“Thank you,” Ji ho sighed, as he shot Sol B a thankful look, which the stone-faced girl smiled at.

“Traitor,” Ji ho muttered as he turned to glare at Joon hwi, who slid into the bench next to him. “Can’t believe you’d abandon me for a girl,” he scoffed.

“Sorry mate, it’s not my fault that Sol is way better looking than you are.”

“Lies. Ignorant and a blatant lie,” Ji ho replied. “I’m the prettiest one here, we can all agree.”

“I agree,” Sol B chimed in.

“You don’t count,” Joon hwi said. “Besides I’m pretty sure you locked us in that cupboard so you can get more time with Sol B in our dorm anyways.”

“No, we locked you in there for the noble cause of saving our ears from listening to you two complain about each other,” Ji ho replied, pushing up his wire-rimmed glasses.

“I mean it’s not any better now,” Ye seul mumbled, which Sol A quickly shot a glare at in reply. Before she could formulate a proper response, Slughorn cleared his throat, signaling the start of the class.

“Alright, alright, settle down please,” Slughorn’s voice carried through the room, as everyone scrambled to take their seat next to their partner. “As all of you are aware, one of the integral potions we will brew in your final year is Amortentia. Now, why is this potion considered dangerous? Yes, Ms. Kang,” he called out to the poised girl.

“It is considered the most powerful love potion in existence, and ingestion causes powerful infatuation and obsession. But, the scent of it is safe to inhale,” she answered.

“Good. Five points to Slytherin,” Slughorn nodded. “Now, what are the characteristics of Amortentia? Yes, Mr. Ko,” he pointed to Yeong-chang’s raised.

“It has a distinctive mother-of-pearl shine and spiraling steam, but the scent varies depending on the person. Generally, the scent is personalized to what or who the person loves,” he chimed in, but it was clear his eyes were flashing down to the textbook.

Sol A let out a small scoff. Cheater.

“And Yeong-chang will probably smell his girlfriend, the giant squid,” Ji ho sneered, and Joon hwi laughed alongside him, much to Yeong-chang’s glare.

“Five points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin,” Slughorn announced, disapproval tinging his words. “Mr. Han, Mr. Seo, I expect more from the two of you. And as this is your last strike, please switch partners with the bench next to you.”

Unbelievable. Slughorn was a favorite professor of Sol’s, but he was always unfair towards Joon hwi and Ji ho just because they didn’t excel at potions the way Yeong-chang did. Of course, the dear professor wasn’t aware that Yeong-chang cheated and faked his way through the class.

Joon hwi frowned as he slid in the seat next to Sol A, Ye-seul taking his place next to Ji ho.

“He’s being unfair,” Sol A mumbled as Slughorn continued his lecture. She could feel Joon hwi’s eyes on her as she gazed ahead, trying to put on the facade of paying attention to the lecture when all she could think of was the boy beside her.

“You can’t do much about it. Assemblyman Ko was one of Slughorn’s old sponsors and you know how he likes feeling like he’s in control of the powerful,” Joon hwi replied with a shrug. Silence fell over them once more as they listened to Slughorn instruct them on the process, but a part of Sol’s mind was always aware of his presence.

The warmth radiated off of him as Sol sat, side by side with her arm not even a breath away from his, and she noted every rise and fall of his chest as the boy trained his eyes on their professor. She could hear every inhale, see every expression and thought that crossed his face.

Honestly, it was a little annoying how aware she was of him. It was as though a part of her mind would always be occupied by him, what he was doing, what he was saying, what he was wearing. It was frustrating that so much of her life was consumed by him, but what could she do except to love him?

“With that, I’ll set you free to brew your own. Please be careful as this is a very advanced potion, and be diligent. Do not ingest the potion in any way,” Slughorn's voice was firm as he set them free.

Immediately the bustle of students erupted through the classroom, the sound of flipping textbook pages and the shuffling of feet towards the shelves of ingredients as students got busy brewing.

“I’ll get the ingredients?” Joon hwi asked.

“I’ll set up the cauldron,” Sol nodded in agreement as they split up, Joon hwi leaving their bench to gather their ingredients. Slowly, Sol prepped the cauldron to brew the potion, taking extra care to make sure that nothing spilled or touched their skin.

The process to make amortentia was slow and methodical, with both Joon hwi and Sol working in tandem to be careful as they added the ingredients. A blanket of silence fell over them as they worked together, trying to monitor the potion closely to add the correct ingredients at the right times.

Slughorn slowly made his rounds around the classroom, watching as students made their potions, and commenting on advice when needed. He passed by Sol’s bench almost twice, only nodding wordlessly as he looked over the potion, which usually meant approval. If Sol wasn’t working with Joon hwi, she might have even received a comment or two, but it seems Slughorn’s disdain for Joon hwi ended up extending to her as she worked with him.

“God, Joon hwi, did you roll around in the Quidditch Pitch before you came here?” Sol asked, wrinkling her nose as she stirred the cauldron. She tried to keep the potion from spilling as the potion glinted against the light, the pearl shine mesmerizing as the spiral steam wafted from it.

“Clearly, you decided to douse yourself with your perfume this morning. I think it’s going to give me a headache,” he laughed, as he stood behind her, looking over the potion. If she stepped even an inch backward, her back would be against his chest, his body lurching close as he watched over the potion.

“But my perfume bottle broke yesterday,” Sol said, her body tensing as she twisted her head to look up at him. Confusion was etched across her face as Joon hwi’s face drained of color slightly, as he avoided her gaze.

“I haven’t been down to the pitch since last week,” Joon hwi whispered.

Their eyes locked, and the breath knocked out of both of them. She simply stared at him, wide-eyed as her mind scrambled to process what just happened. They were smelling each other in the Amortentia. Sol blinked, trying to take in the shocking features of Joon hwi’s face as her heart raced, threatening to beat out of her chest.

She knew she was in love with him, it was always there within her heart, but to be called out on it, in front of him? It was too much. Sol wanted to say she felt mortified that Joon hwi was aware of her feelings, but she couldn’t help but find relief in some odd confirmation of his feelings for her, even though they couldn’t be together.

“Well, congratulations to Mr. Han and Ms. Kang, for successfully brewing the first batch of amortentia for this year! The two of you can clean up and dispose of the potion properly, before leaving class,” Slughorn informed them as he passed by their bench, looking over their cauldron, before passing by to the next bench, but she couldn’t care less.

Her feet were firmly planted on the ground, still looking up at the shocked boy, looking as though he didn’t see it coming, as though he wasn’t even aware. His shoulders were tense with a breath he was holding, as he looked down at Sol, eyes wide and starstruck.

And all she could do was stare.

Her eyes were almost glazed over, trying to just process what happened, what she smelled, what he smelled. It was too much for her mind to handle at once, only made worse by his gaze set on her, making her feel as though she was on fire.

“You two can leave, you know?” Ye-seul’s soft voice broke their concentration as her arm reached out to touch Sol’s shoulder, jolting her from her trance. Her best friend’s eyes were kind, sympathetic to her as Sol nodded slowly. Her movements felt as though they were on autopilot, robotically gathering her textbook and parchments spread across the bench.

As though Joon hwi’s body just restarted, his movements frantically joined Sol to clean up their mess. A heavily uncomfortable silence fell over the two as their friends looked at the two of them with glances of pity and a knowing expression that infuriated her slightly.

She didn’t even utter a word of goodbye when she was finally done, forcing herself to pretend as though he wasn’t present. She walked out trying her best to pretend nothing was wrong, her back straight and her eyes fixed on some distant place as she tried to rush her way out and back to her dorm.

Except she couldn’t even avoid Joon hwi at her dorm.

Oh god, how am I going to face him now?

It’s been a week since the amortentia incident. Turns out that spending all her time with Joon hwi for the past year made her well versed in his schedule, which was particularly useful to make sure she avoided him at all costs.

Yes, contrary to her branding as a Gryffindor, she avoided him. While she had the bravery to confront Assemblyman Ko and the Ministry of Magic, confessing to her crush was where she drew the line.

She would disappear the moment she spotted him within a one-mile radius of her, which meant leaving breakfast early and dipping out of any gatherings. The only class she shared with him was potions, and luckily she was allowed to take her rightful seat with Ye-Seul.

Her friends, of course, thought the idea was stupid.

“Where’s your Gryffindor spirit?” questioned Sol B when Sol had asked her to be her personal shield until Joon hwi left the room. Even the gentle, loyal Ye-Seul had expressed concern with her behavior, warning her that putting off talking with him would only end up in hurt and confusion.

Sol would hear none of it. It was painful, knowing that Joon hwi was aware of her feelings and worse, that he returned them in full force. It was the universe's cruel joke, to make sure that her feelings were requited and then forbid her from pursuing a relationship with him.

On some level, she was aware that she was just preventing herself from enjoying true happiness, knowing that there was a sliver of a chance that it would be okay A large part of her hoped to love him, to hold him in her arms, to have him fully and without inhibitions. But the rational part, the level-headed side that she had grown to resent, told her that it would only end in pain and heartache.

There were simply too many barriers between them, she argued. He was a rich pureblood witch that was set for so much greatness ahead of him. He was destined for it, and it only made sense that whoever his partner was, would match his skills. She was the poor muggle-born witch, struggling to hold her own against the brightest at Hogwarts. She would only drag him down, she reasoned.

So, whatever fantasies of romance she had with Joon hwi would pass. It would have to pass. She will watch Joon hwi fall in love with someone else, someone better, someone worthy of him, and she will be happy for them. It didn’t matter that Joon hwi was the end for her, that she wouldn’t love anyone like she loved him. All that mattered was that he would get the person he deserved.

And all she could do was live out her life, sequestered to wishing that the person was her.

Sol checked her watch as she sat on the common room couch. 8:00 PM. Crap. It was almost the end of quidditch practice. She hurried as she grabbed some parchment and quills into her bag, trying to move fast so she can leave before he returned for his nightly shower.

Sol walked quickly towards the entrance, fiddling with the strap of her satchel as her feet propelled her forward, only to run into a warm figure. Momentarily frozen, she took a deep breath. Grass. Rain. Joon hwi.

Her head snapped up to meet the gaze of the boy, his hair dripping wet. Unlike most nights, he was showered, no longer sweating and panting from his practice. Her eyes roamed his figure as she cleared her throat.

“Hi,” she stuttered out as she looked up at him, stumbling back to put some distance between them.

“Hi,” he let a breath out as he stared down at her, his gaze piercing into her. Her body felt as though it was lit on fire, his eyes peeling her apart against her will.

“Have a good practice?” she asked, a pitiful attempt at going back to whatever amalgamation of friendship and love they had before.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered, hesitant. He pursed his lips as he continued to look at her, as though he was trying to figure out a puzzle or a mystery.

“Good then,” she concluded, tearing her gaze away from him and stepping aside, trying to move around him. Only he mirrored her movements, using his body to block her path.

She tried again, this time in the other direction, only to be met with him blocking her, and she let out a frustrated huff. Just let me move Joon hwi, and we can be passed this.

“Let me leave, Joon hwi,” she ground out, looking up at him with irritation.

“We have to talk about it at some point,” his voice firm. “You can’t ignore it forever.”

“Talk about what?” she feigned ignorance, gritting her teeth.

“Potions. Last week. The amortentia?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she pursed her lips as she looked down at her feet, his expression too much for her to handle. One more look into his warm eyes, and the guilt would come crashing through her body.

Now was not the time to be weak and give in Sol. This is for his own good. She tried to convince herself, weakly.

“You can ignore it all you want, but I know what you smelled in that cauldron Kang Sol,” he took a step closer to her, forcing her back. Her eyes blurred as they stared into his red and golden Quidditch jersey, the colors blurring out as she noted the steady rhythm of his chest.

“So what, I smelled you in the cauldron,” she replied, her hands gripping tightly on the strap of her bag. She moved her head to meet his eyes, steeling herself. “No big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Yeah no, it’s definitely not a big deal when the girl I’ve been in love with since the first year smelled me in amortentia,” he scoffed, his familiar face confused and frustrated.

“So you agree,” she quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not a big deal.” Sol swallowed, trying not to let her traitorous heart dance at the confession that he loved her since the moment he met her. Every breath felt heavy, as though the action hurt every molecule in her body.

“It’s certainly a big deal. Sol...” he sighed. His eyes scrunched with pain, with desperation as his voice dipped into distress. “You know I love you.”

She drew a sharp breath at the admission, a pain and suffocation unfurling in her chest. Her throat closed at the admission, her eyes welling up with tears as she told herself that this was necessary. Why did you have to make it so hard?

“You shouldn’t.” she clenched her jaw, desperate to make him see how much it pained her to do this. So much regret and agony welled up in her body that she clenched her fists, trying so hard to steel herself. To tell herself that this is simply momentary.

“You don’t mean that,” he pleaded, his voice almost raw with emotion.

“I do. It’s a mistake Joon hwi,” Sol said stiffly.

Quickly, Joon hwi grew very, very still. It was as though he wasn’t even breathing as he looked down at her, his eyes filled with pain, with anger. A simple silence stretched between them, the tension filling the air as his eyes bored into her, making her skin itch with heat.

The way he looked at her was suffocating, an eternal reminder of what she was doing seared into her mind. In the back of her head, the hopeful Sol clawed her way through, desperately arguing to stay, to allow herself to love him fully. But all her fears, every insecurity shoved her down, telling her that this is for the best.

“Why?” Joon hwi asked, his voice hollow.

“What?”

“Why is it a mistake?”

“Because... Because it will only end up bad for both of us. You know that Joon hwi,” she pleaded. “You... you deserve more. Someone at your level, who can love you and keep up. Whatever this is... It’ll pass.”

Joon hwi stood in simple silence, his eyes roaming her face with a flash of irritation. “Who are you to determine what I deserve?”

Sol opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off.

“More than that, how could you say that you aren’t deserving of this love Sol? How can you not even take a chance on this?” Joon hwi questioned her. “Why can’t we just love each other and that be enough?”

“Because—”

“No. There is no reason you could come up with that is logical enough for you to do this,” he begged her. Joon hwi’s hand was trembling as he brought it up to her face, as though it would burn him to touch her. Softly, slowly, his hand cupped her cheek and in a moment of desperation, Sol leaned into it.

“I love you. And if I know you well enough... you love me. And that’s all I need Sol-ah,” he whispered, “Being loved by you is a lot more than I deserve.”

His touch was so soft against her skin that it lulled her into a peaceful trance. All she could do was look into his eyes, helplessly at his mercy of him. Her hands moved up naturally to rest on his jersey, pulling him closer to her on instinct.

“But—” she weakly attempted at an argument, her hands still clenched in his shirt, her body contrary to her mind. Everything in her craved more of him, for him to push back and tell her this is a good idea, that this is right.

“Please,” he stepped closer to her, both his hands cupping her face to tilt it up to his. “Let me love you,” he whispered to her, his lips a breath away from hers.

His lips were soft as they pressed against hers, hesitant and scared. Sol’s eyes fluttered shut, and as though something clicked into place, she moved her mouth against his slowly. Their kiss was passionate, deliberate as his hands drew her face closer to his, bringing her desperately close.

She dropped her bag as she pulled him close again, forgetting every bit of her surroundings as she was consumed by him. She was lost in the feeling of him, the way his fingers held her so carefully, the warmth of his body bleeding into hers as she stepped closer.

Their tongues moved against each other, exploring each other's mouths with such deliberation, as though they would never enjoy the feeling of kissing each other again. It was filled with every confession, every moment of love that she had suppressed from showing as her hands tugged at his jersey trying to pull his body as close as she could.

They drew away slowly, panting to gather their breath, but crashed into each other once more, the kiss frantic and desperate. This was heated, messy as their mouths slotted against each other, desperate to get as close to each other as they could. Her hands traced the edges of his jersey, before dipping underneath to feel the planes of his stomach, the way his abs tensed as she dragged her nails up.

Joon hwi shivered slightly, before parting slightly, allowing her to drag his jersey off his body in a smooth motion. She gasped slightly at the sight of his body, being able to see, touch, and feel the body she had fantasized about for months, before throwing herself at him once more. The feel of his skin made her desperate to get out of her own clothes, but luckily Joon hwi’s hands traced across the edge of her school shirt, pulling it out of the confines of her skirt.

His deft fingers made quick work of her shirt buttons, parting once only to discard them before they were joined again. The feeling of her naked skin against his was stronger than any alcohol she had ever had, her mind clouded with the way his skin felt. It was so powerful, the way he made her feel that she was sure she would never feel anything like this, for anyone ever again.

Joon hwi dropped his hands from her face, hooking them under her thighs and using his strength to carry her. Sol’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, still not parting from their kiss as her arms curled around his neck. Her fingers went to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, before running her hands lightly in his hair, trying to draw him closer to her.

There was something crazed at the way their hands roamed around each other's bodies, desperate to memorize the feel of his body with her hands, her body, her lips. Sol felt heady in her desire, pure lust for the boy that she loves, that she craves. She felt drunk off the feeling of his lips, breaking away from their kiss to press frantic, messy kisses against her neck.

Carefully, he set her down on the sofa, before climbing over her. The weight of his body was delicious against hers, and feeling every inch of his body pressed against hers felt like a luxury. It was hard for her to breathe, her lust and love for him suffocating and his hands roaming her skin making her mind feel lost.

She could feel her mind lose focus as Joon hwi’s attention turned down her neck and her collarbones, taking his sweet time exploring every inch of her body with his hands, his lips, his teeth. Her hands once more sought anchor in his hair, when she realized just how damp it was.

“Wait,” she said, her voice throaty from disuse. “Did you take a shower already?”

“Mhm,” he hummed against her skin, pressing kisses into her stomach as he continued his track down her body. “The quidditch pitch has showers.”

“So,” she paused, letting out a gasp when he nipped at her skin, “Why did you come up here to take a shower after practice?”

At that, Joon hwi lifted his head, a mischievous smirk across his face. “That, my love, was just a show for you,” he winked as she gasped.

“You minx! I can’t believe you,” her eyes narrowed.

“Too late. It was your choice to love a Marauder,” he laughed. “I will always be up to no good.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“Promise, Sol-ah,” he smiled, before they got drunk in each other's presence once more.

53 notes · View notes

yanderemommabean · 4 years ago

Note

Eraserdust either first meeting or first kidnapping, if that's alright? Your writing is amazing and I think its really neat!

“Kidnapping me won’t get you what you want” Aizawa’s deep voice rumbled, doing his best to stay calm and collected. The villain - whomever they may be - must’ve done their research and attacked while he was asleep. Usually he’s always on his guard, alert and aware. He can’t believe he got caught like this, so easily, literally prey lying in wait for a predator he wasn’t even aware was around.

All he heard was heavy breathing, and tried to pinpoint where exactly it was coming from. He knew he was tied by his wrists, to one point, most likely the top of a bedpost. He was on his back, from what he can tell he wasn’t injured, and of course he was blindfolded. The typical, cliche, go-to’s for a kidnapping. “You can do whatever you plan to me, but it won’t be worth it. They won’t succumb to your demands”.

The heavy breathing became louder, right next to his ear. It sounded hesitant, like the villain was debating something. Shouta stills his breath, waiting for any type of response, any type of action that would end this terrifying (and bordering on awkward) silence. Gently, fingers trace down his neck, causing him to jump at the cold contact.

“You’re beautiful” A gravelly voice murmured, the fingers roaming up to cup his face, gently caressing his jaw as he grimaced. “You’re absolutely breathtaking”. The voice was male, so Shouta at least had something to go off of if he managed to get out of here. Beautiful? God was this some sick game? Was he a serial killer who liked to torture his victims? A pile of questions and no shovel.

He cranes his neck, turning away from the fingers clenching on his cheeks to spit out a response. “What is this? What do you want?” Shouta demanded answers, but was met with a soft, amused chuckle. “I already have it. You, tied up and in my bed. I gotta say, it was such a pain getting you here. You’re so cool, but so tough to figure out with your lifestyle. You really need to have a schedule better than what you’ve got”.

Scrunching his nose, the black haired man scoffs “You’re a crazed fan? A stalker who’s love is horribly misplaced? You’re out of your mind to think this would make me like you in the /slightest/”. A fanboy? He was kidnapped by some common stalker? Damn he’s really off of his game. “You need to let me go. Now”.

It goes quiet again, no doubt because he upset his captor by ruining his illusion. There’s a rustling sound, and the blindfold on his eyes is removed, the dim lighting of the room making his eyes struggle to adjust. Around him was a simple night stand, a ceiling light, carpeted flooring, the king sized bed he was laying on, and most important- The most wanted villain in the world. Deep, burning red eyes stare into his own with a look of confidence, arrogance, as if he had the upper hand.

Because he did. Shouta could only use his quirk to protect from his decay, but not from any other methods. Stabbing, choking, smothering, shooting- the list goes on. He’s vulnerable and Tomura Shigaraki knows it. “I don’t need to do anything but take care of you. You’re the only true, worthwhile hero and you’re...ugh you’re so neglected” he growled at the end, shifting to sit on top of Shouta’s legs. He bares his teeth in a snarl as he continues his rant, piercing eyes never leaving Shouta’s gaze. “You’re the only hero who does it for the good of the world, the good of the people. Staying away from the limelight, helping no matter what...risking your very life for people who don’t deserve it”.

Was that...Praise? He was being praised and admired because he prefers to stay away from the media and does the bare minimum of what every hero should do? How something that basic and boring is reason enough to kidnap is beyond comprehension. He grunts when Tomura sits right on his hips, his body pressing right on his cock, causing blood to both rush to his cheeks and to the sexual organ. “You can’t keep me here. People will-ngh...Find me. You’ll be thrown in jail for this and everything else you’ve done”.

Tomura sighs with a smile, running his cold hands up the hero's shirt to feel his sculpted muscles, biting his lip again as he slowly rocks his hips. “There you go again. So amazing. Worrying about what will happen to me, what trouble I could get into. You’re such a golden level hero.” The blue haired villain hikes the shirt up over Shouta’s chest, exposing more of him as he tries to tug the restraints holding him to the bedpost. “S-Stop! You don’t know what you’re doing!” he hissed, trying to not think of the pressure being added to his ever growing bulge.

A wet kiss on his neck sends tremors of fear down his spine, making his stomach churn. He’s only capable of staring at Tomura as the weight of the situation sinks in. He’s stuck like this. He is at the mercy of a psychopathic, murderous villain, who is so infatuated and obsessed that he managed to kidnap him. No matter what he says, what he tries to reason, it won’t matter. Shigaraki wanted him, and finally got his blood covered hands on him.

“Shh, shh shh...I know what you need. Let me give it to you. Let me be your stress toy, use me until you’re satisfied”. The villain's mouth seals over Shoutas with unrelenting passion, his hips grinding harder against the straining cock underneath him as his hands squeeze, pinch, and caress every inch they can get ahold of. The harder Shouta resisted, the more amused Tomura became, as if he saw him as a shy, inexperienced lover rather than a kidnap victim who’s nearly double his age.

“Hmph, you’re so cute when you try and deny the pleasure you deserve”. Tomura sucked a nipple into his mouth while his other hand massaged his hip, loving the warmth growing under his ministrations. Shouta made a weak moan, trying to suppress the fact he was being pleasantly - however forcefully- stimulated. Shigaraki pulled off with a wet pop, eyes half lidded as he drinks in the flustered, aroused sight of his beloved hero.

“Oh I’m going to absolutely spoil you. I’m gonna make you see how much love and devotion you’ve been starved of all these years”.

(-Mommabean, leave a like if you liked! Or tell me in the inbox/comments! )

#tw noncon #Yandere noncon #yandere dubcon #yandere shigaraki #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere bnha #yandere smut #yandere lemons #eraserdust #mommabean

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samstree · 4 years ago

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Hug a Witcher Day (2/3)

In which Jaskier gets drunk and Geralt gets hurt. Hug a Witcher Day is coming around again, but so are certain feelings.

(hurt/comfort, geralt whump, soft jaskier, more yearning, 3k, rated T, blood and injury)

read on AO3

“No! Not Summer Solstice!” Jaskier shouts drunkenly to the lady approaching Geralt with open arms and then proceeds to use his own body as a shield to stop her advance, his footsteps unsteady. “Saovine! It’s the day before Saovine! I literally just performed the song five minutes ago so I don’t know why you guys keep coming at him. Today is not Hug a Witcher Day!”

Jaskier’s face is red as a beet. It’s no shock that he’s swaying considering the amount of wine he’s been consuming since the end of the set. She frowns at the bard like he’s crazy before muttering an apology.

“Jask.” Geralt holds onto Jaskier’s elbow just in case. He notices the tankard in the bard’s hand is empty again. “Come on. Let’s sit down.”

“But they—”

“I know and it’s all right. Just follow me,” Geralt explains, steering the bard away patiently. Arguing with the bard when he’s inebriated has never been wise.

The bard begrudgingly follows him to the side seats and plops down, smashing the empty cup on the wooden table.

“They—they got the date wrong. It’s not today.” Jaskier slurs in all seriousness to the witcher, his eyebrows still furrowed with residual anger.

“It is not,” Geralt takes the cup away from him, in case someone refills it and the bard will enter the even more bratty stage of drunkenness—or worse, the sappy stage. Geralt shudders at the memory of the Elder-speaking stage where Jaskier delivered an epic on top of a table. “I know it’s the wrong day, Jaskier, but you need to stop telling them off. You haven’t gotten paid for tonight.”

“What? Who wants to pay me for tonight?” Jaskier squawks indignantly, scrambling to pull his unbuttoned doublet together like a blushing maiden.

“Not tonight,” Geralt snorts, tilting his head towards the bustling party. “Tonight. The solstice celebration?”

The gears turn slowly but the bard eventually catches on, relaxing and folding his arms on the table.

“But everyone tried to hug you in the middle of the party.” Jaskier’s voice gets smaller and smaller in the din of the room. “It must be bad for your senses. You know, witcher senses…sensitive. People too grabby…bad.”

Geralt blinks, surprised at Jaskier’s concern. He hasn’t realized how crowded the hall is and how much noise is in the room. It’s a mixture of loud conversations and drunk giggling. Quite a few nobles did mistake the date in the song and come to throw their arms around him. It turns out being privileged also destroys all the shyness in one’s personality. It was…not uncomfortable until one woman’s hand traveled way lower to be considered proper.

He wasn’t going to fight her off—the lady being tipsy and old-aged and all, but that’s when the bard started to interject, blocking newcomers.

It was also when Jaskier started drinking.

Something warm swells in Geralt’s chest as he watches the bard drop his head on his forearms as if his neck can’t support the weight. Heavy-lidded blue eyes flutter shut for a second but he stubbornly reopens them.

“My thanks, for defending my honor.”

Geralt feels a languid smile tug at his lips, one that is slowly returned by the bard.

“Any day, my big strong witcher,” Jaskier says. “Especially the wrong day.”

The bard continues to shift his arms, trying to find a comfortable spot to pillow his chin, but the hard table is giving him trouble. He then notices the witcher sitting right next to him with a soft oh and, in one smooth move, takes Geralt’s arm and cushions it under his face.

It seems to satisfy him, hogging Geralt’s forearm and pressing his cheek over the sleeve. With a few nuzzles, Jaskier lets out a contented sigh and closes his eyes, leaving Geralt leaning forward awkwardly.

Although the witcher is strangely not in the mood to take his hand away, even when Jaskier is cutting off the circulation in his arm. A drunk bard is a force to be reckoned with. It will take some serious efforts to get him back to the inn—big strong witcher or not.

Just when Geralt thinks Jaskier has dozed off from the combination of post-performing exhaustion and too many cups of Toussaint wine, an incoherent murmur rumbles against Geralt’s skin.

“Can’t blame them—” Jaskier turns his head away, facing the other side, the warmth of his breaths ghosting over Geralt’s wrist. “—that they want to… but if I can’t…”

The bard trails off until the witcher can’t make out the words even with his enhanced hearing. Soft snores follow soon after.

Geralt shakes his head and scoots closer, just in case Jaskier needs more parts of him as pillows.

Autumn is around the corner before Geralt notices.

One moment the bard is complaining about the mid-summer heat and how the humidity is ruining his instrument, the next trees are already peppered with golden yellow.

The wyvern contract in a small village should be a quick and easy one. Only a scared newborn is spotted in the past month, possibly lost and lashing out. Geralt intends to time it perfectly so that he can finish it just a few days before Saovine, which means they’ll be on the road during the holiday, which means they will be alone on the day.

His day.

The whole conversation is thoroughly planned out in Geralt’s head, one that he’s certain will do the trick.

Isn’t today Hug a Witcher Day, Jask? Not getting it wrong this time, eh? Wait, there’s no one else on this empty open road. What a shame! After all, you are the one who invented the day. Wait, you want to give me a hug? Hmm, I don’t know… Fine, if you insist, but only because I don’t want you to break your own tradition.

He plays out those lines over and over again while entering what is rumored to be the baby wyvern’s nest with a smug grin on his face.

It’s fine to get a little excited. No one is here to see it anyway.

And the grin disappears when both wyvern parents emerge from the cave, prepared to protect the baby behind them.

Oh well.

When Geralt stumbles back to the inn with too many claw marks on his chest and blood soaking through his jerkin, he decides that the plan is shit from the start anyway.

Jaskier won’t hug him out of the blue. There’s always a reason if the bard touches him, like this moment, like when he rushes out of the door to meet Geralt and to put his uninjured arm around his shoulder. Like when he puts a hand at the small of Geralt’s back to keep him from stumbling. Like when he carefully steers Geralt into their room, settles him on a chair, and coos over the wounds with sweet nothings.

“I have to remove your shirt. It’s stuck with all the blood,” Jaskier tilts Geralt’s chin up so he can no longer see the mess all over his chest. Instead, blue fills his vision, wild and far-away, like the autumn sky. “Look at me, all right? Just focus on me, my dear. Don’t look down.”

He’s seen much worse on himself, but Geralt obliges anyway.

Lost in those cornflower blues, he almost doesn’t wince when Jaskier tears the fabric away.

“Sorry,” Jaskier whispers, but his movements never falter. “Just a moment longer.”

The burn of alcohol and the needle barely register in Geralt’s mind. All his senses are overwhelmed by Jaskier and the faint floral scent on his warm skin, the grounding touch of his palms, the soft apologies that slip through his lips, and then, the cold empty feeling of their absence.

Geralt lets out a small whine when Jaskier leaves him to retrieve the bandages, and it’s enough for the bard to fuss again.

“Shh, it’s okay. You are doing so well.” The bandages are wrapped firmly over the wound. Both of Jaskier’s hands reach behind Geralt to pass the roll and it brings him unbearably close.

Oh, it’s like Jaskier is hugging him.

For a split second, Jaskier’s face is almost pressed against Geralt’s collarbone, his hair ticking the side of his jaw. Those arms that he knows to be strong and thick are circling Geralt’s torso and squeezing gently.

He groans again when it ends.

But alas, it’s bound to end at some point. With his injury tended, there’s no need for Jaskier to keep showering him with touches and soft words.

Geralt doesn’t notice how Jaskier has the strength to put him in bed, the blood loss making the floor swim under his feet, but the mattress dips invitingly and Geralt finds himself cocooned by warm blankets.

Jaskier is still touching him.

“Comfortable?” Jaskier asks, his fingers carding through Geralt’s entangled hair soothingly and the urge of saying no is overwhelming.

No, not when your arms are not around me.

Geralt nods and a tired smile lights up Jaskier’s face. It’s a reserved one, mixed with relief and worry, and it’s so beautiful Geralt wishes he could cry at how it’s making his heart swell three sizes and filling up all the space in this chest. To think he’s the one who gets to see it almost makes up for not getting a hug from Jaskier.

Cold realization sinks in. He won’t get a hug from Jaskier on that day, because they’ll have to stay in town until at least Saovine.

Because he’s reckless enough to get injured like this.

His dismay must be showing on his face because Jaskier is fussing even more. “What is it? Is anything wrong, Geralt? Talk to me. What can I do?”

Jaskier’s brows furrow, his blue eyes wide with worry. Geralt desperately wants to soothe him, to catch the hand that is currently caressing his forehead, but all his strength seems sap.

Jaskier won’t hug him.

But it will be his day soon.

“Yes, your day,” Jaskier chuckles, and Geralt realizes belatedly that he’s said the last part out loud. “That godsdamned day. I never should have written that song. But let’s not think about it for now. You should rest.”

“No…” he croaks.

The regret in Jaskier’s voice is so wrong, so out of place that Geralt would do anything to banish it. He needs to tell Jaskier that he doesn’t mind the day. He needs Jaskier to know that a hug from him is all he can think about for the past year.

But none of those words gets out. The pull of sleep drags Geralt under despite his reluctance, the dark splotches filling his vision.

“It’s okay, don’t fight it. Rest, my dear.” Jaskier’s soft coaxing is the last thing Geralt hears before slipping into oblivion.

In the land of dreams, Geralt feels arms circle around him, grounding him with the pleasant weight. A warm body is pressed against his side, curling up around his frame protectively. He leans into it, just to feel soft breathing against his skin.

He wishes that he doesn’t have to wake up.

Geralt starts the second Hug a Witcher Day sitting at the corner of another tavern.

On top of his witcher healing, days of rest have made sure those wounds from the wyverns are completely healed, but Jaskier seems to disagree. The bard is still hovering, insisting on fetching Geralt everything and helping him get around all the time.

Geralt would scold him for being over-dramatic if he wasn’t enjoying being the center of Jaskier’s attention so much.

“No! You sit tight,” Jaskier says, stoping Geralt from getting up with a hand on his shoulder. “I will get the juice for you. What would they think of me if I let an injured friend do chores?”

“Who’s they?” Geralt asks.

“Oh, you know.” Jaskier backs to the bar, gesturing vaguely into the air. “The…masses. The fans who know about the good-hearted nature of Master Jaskier and worship my music for the very reason.”

The bard bumps into an empty chair when he turns, and Geralt glares at him. Jaskier’s theatrics almost distract him enough to miss the commotion from the street.

Coming towards the tavern door are the footsteps of another witcher, the lightness of his feet on the cobblestone unmistakable.

Geralt is alert in an instant, prepared to call Jaskier back. There could be trouble if someone from another school passes town.

The rider is approaching the tavern but he’s stopped quite abruptly, and Geralt hears the most familiar and bratty scowl known to men.

“Oh, come on! This fucking day! No, I don’t hu—” Lambert lets out a groan as someone obviously pulls him into a hug. “—Urgh, fine!” The other person is thanking him profusely. “All right. You’re…welcome. Yes, it’s fine…”

Lambert’s tone softens as the man continues to chat after the hug, rambling about how a witcher with white hair just fought off three dangerous wyverns and how the locals will forever be in debt.

“Right, right. And pray tell, my good man, where can I find this witcher?” It sounds like Lambert is smiling as he asks and it’s the creepiest thing Geralt has ever heard. “And his bard is with him?”

It won’t take long for Lambert to locate the two of them. It might be best that Jaskier doesn’t face Lambert’s ire head-on.

“Jask,” Geralt calls out anyway. “Come back here.”

“Is there any trouble?” the bard puts two cups of grape juice on their table, and Geralt only sighs.

“Remember when I said you should avoid—”

“Geralt!” Lambert bursts into the door with a bang, startling all the patrons and the owner. Jaskier even jumps and spills juice all over the table. “Where is your bar—Oh, there you are, you bastard!”

The bard is already up and facing Lambert’s incoming anger, his body placed in front of Geralt. More than once Lambert has tackled both Jaskier and Geralt rudely to the ground upon seeing them on the road as greetings.

Geralt warms at the protectiveness of his bard, but he should really be worrying about himself on this.

“Lambert, wait, he’s still hurt!” Jaskier pleads, with both hands out to stop Lambert’s momentum and, against all odds, it works

Lambert stops in his track, inches away from the bard. “My business is only with you, bard. You and your damned songs!” A dangerous glint sparks in the youngest wolf’s golden eyes.

“What—"

Jaskier on the ground before he can finish the sentence and a sharp squeal erupts in the tavern. He’s soon reduced to a giggling mess under Lambert’s vicious attacks. Chaos ensues at what’s supposed to be the quiet corner of the tavern, and Geralt can only take a sip of his grape juice to hide his smile.

By the time Lambert decides he’s had enough revenge on the bard—mostly through tickles—both men scramble up from the ground disheveled and worked up. The owner of the place throws them a suspicious side-eye but remains silent.

“That’ll teach you a lesson,” Lambert grumbles while sitting down on Geralt’s bench.

“Noted. No more hugging songs.” The bard fixes his hair with careful fingers and ignores the other witcher. “It’s not like any of you showed any appreciation. For all the thanks you’re getting, none goes to the bard.” He tsks.

“I’m sure Geralt thanked you enough for all of us. Or has he not pulled his head out of his ass yet?”

Geralt stares at his brother and his grumpy remark, confused at the meaning, but Jaskier asks first.

“What do you mean?” the bard says with half a mind still focused on the curly fringe over his eyes that sticks out stubbornly despite his fussing.

The air between them suddenly tenses. A knot forms in Geralt’s stomach, an inexplicable dread rising in his throat.

Lambert’s expression turns to something equally inscrutable and amused, which is all the more unsettling. No matter how much of a prick the young wolf is, he’s never been unreadable to Geralt in the many decades they’ve known each other. He doesn’t appreciate the suggestive way Lambert winks at him when the bard isn’t looking either.

Geralt kicks his brother in the shin, the ‘one more word and I will kill you’ conveyed silently. Anything that comes out of his brother’s mouth next can’t be good, so he has to interject.

“I told Jaskier it was fine. The song. Stop being a prick.” Or mention it ever again, the gleam in his eyes warns.

“My, my. I see.” Lambert grumbles but uncharacteristically withholds comment.

Jaskier finally gives up on fixing his hair, frustrated. “Must you ruin my hair every time? Now I’m sure you two can behave while I order us more food?”

Now that Geralt is so close to Jaskier, watching him going up to the owner behind the bar and holding the most mundane conversation on this morning, the ache slowly returns.

He wonders if Jaskier wrote the song thinking about hugging him. After all, the bard is the most devout advocator for changing witchers’ image. He wonders if Jaskier would give him one if he asked.

They’ll have to be alone first.

And yet, when Jaskier comes back to the table, the owner is following behind. If the bard has ever been sheepish in his life, it would be this moment.

Lambert realizes his intention first.

“No more hugging,” he deadpans, nudging at Geralt’s ribs. “Once is enough. You take the rest of them.”

“The wyvern almost killed her husband.” Jaskier sounds a lot less confident than normal, hesitant even. “Please, Geralt? She just wants to thank you.”

The owner is a woman near her forties or fifties, her expression hopeful. Geralt stands up, opens his arms, and tries to make sure his smile is as friendly as possible. Putting people at ease has always been Jaskier’s strong suit, not his.

But her relieved smile brightens up her whole face after they share a simple hug, her steps lighter when she leaves.

“She told me that she was worried sick for him. Her husband.” Jaskier explains, fidgeting with his fingers like every time he does before an important performance or competition.

“Jaskier.”

“You know that song is not out of nowhere, right? Well, the line ‘hug a witcher for good harvest’ was made up, but… you do make a difference, Geralt. I wanted them to know all the ways you’re making the world safer, and the hearts a little less broken. Just like you did for her.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt stills the bard’s hands before his nails dig into his palm too deeply. “It’s all right, I understand.”

“You do?”

“I told you I’m fine with some strangers hugging me for a day,” Geralt chuckles, “Because I’m not doing it for—”

The words trail off. Beside him, Lambert is scooching over in the least subtle way and any words Geralt had a moment of bravery to voice instantly die in his throat. He releases Jaskier’s hand.

“Don’t stop on my account!” Lambert starts to drink from one of the cups of grape juice, slurping loudly. “You being a sap is disgustingly adorable. I want to see how it goes.”

The moment is ruined further when another man comes over asking for a hug and he’s not the only one. More people are noticing the day and two witchers and the bard sitting in the room, looking at their table expectantly.

Jaskier leans back, making room for more incoming townspeople.

It seems that Geralt will be busy hugging this year as well. He just doesn’t know if all these people can fill the Jaskier-shaped hole in his chest.

---

Should I end this story with hugs, kisses, or *wink* something more? Tell me what you think! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @birdsflyhome @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #hurt/comfort #soft geralt #soft jaskier #geralt x dandelion #geralt and his feelings #hurt geralt #starring geralt and his feelings #jaskier #geralt #hugging #but still not with the bard :(

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selinakidreams · 4 years ago

Text

suck: Bokuto Koutarou

big boy bo is most definitely into tongue sucking this is something you may not fight me on,, and as you can tell from the title,,, this man likes having it done to him,, again, will not be taking arguments on this :D

genre: smut

warnings: more tongue sucking brrrr, foreplay, uhh slight fem!dom?, non-penetrative sex, praise kink, size kink if you squint

masterlist for suck or be sucked is here!

“You know Ko.. watching you at practice… you do a lot with your body…?” you trail off, eyes racking over your boyfriend's slouched frame. You knew you phrased it- quite literally- all wrong and incredibly awkward. It came out more as a question than a seductive statement- You couldn’t help it though, the sight in front of you made your brain shut down.

Partially lit up by the changing scenes of the television, Bokuto Koutaro was sinking into the cushions of the couch, arm slung over the back of the sofa in nothing but his boxer briefs and a t-shirt he swore wasn’t too tight for him. Even when relaxed, you could see the tone of his muscles- each and every outline through his clothes.

“Uhh yea! I have to use my body with full force to spike the ball over the net and land that point. I can’t just use my arm.” He awkwardly chuckles.

You two had just come back from Bokuto’s MSBY practice and the whole time you were practically trying to keep yourself from salivating. To say you were a fan of his body would be stating an understatement.

“Baby,” you tried again, shifting towards him so that you were sitting on your calves, hands placed on the top of your thighs. The movement and new position drew all of Bokuto’s attention to you; not one wavering glance to the tv.

You couldn’t tell if he figured out what you were trying to get at but you pressed on anyway.

“I-,” the pressure was on. When Bo’s full attention was on you, face as curious and innocent as can be, it was even harder to get out what you wanted to say, much less string two coherent thoughts together.

He softly spoke your name before saying, “whatever it is you want to say, take your time. I can wait.”

What threw you off was the mischievous glint in his eyes.

So he did know what was going on. This made things a lot easier.

“Kōtarō, come here.”

He didn’t hesitate. Always your attentive boy, and he prides himself on that.

Bokuto loves it when you get like this, when you take control and do as you please. He is the kind of partner that gets off on knowing that you’re enjoying yourself and from the looks of it, you have a plan. He’s in for a treat.

You let your hands wander his body, touch as light as a feather over his intricate muscles.

“Fuck…,” You relish the way he leans into your touch. “Watching you practice.. god I wanted you to fuck me right in the bleachers… but for right now.. we’re gonna do something a little different.”

Bokuto’s face was a mere centimeters away from yours, his lips ghosting your own. He responded in a whisper as he leaned in, “And what would that be, doll?”

Instead of fully pulling away, you moved to straddle his lap; giggles dancing out of your mouth as he looked up at you with those wide golden eyes. With the new found pressure applied on the bulge in his pants, putting on the innocent facade was getting harder and harder for him.

It started off at his ear, you lightly licked the shell before going down to nibble on his earlobe; a low grunt signaling it was time for you to move to the next area: the neck.

As you nip and suck at the speeding pulse, your hands went to his pecs where you kneaded his chest and drew soft outlines around his nipples. They hardened instantly, his quiet panting became only heavier with the start of him rutting onto you to relieve some friction.

Bokuto went to pull you in for a feverish kiss, but you stopped it, putting a single finger over his readying lips.

“No no Ko, let me do all the work. I’m sure that you have to be tired from practicing for so long and I just wanna make… you.. feel good.” You teasingly taunted ever so close to his lips.

Bokuto let out a delicious moan that riled something in you, it drove you to completely skip the original ide of teasing him for far too long and just get to the best part.

You slunk off of his lap and onto your knees- you didn’t want to completely rid all teasing though, just keeping it where it counts. Your hand ghosted over his throbbing cock to reach for the waistband of his shorts, feeling the slight twitch. You didn’t pull them down completely, but with his help, just enough to have his dick spring free and greet you, head shining with beads of pre-cum.

So pretty, you thought before making eye contact with Bo while lowering yourself closer to his cock.

Not breaking the gaze was easy for you, you basked in his squirms. Plus, watching those facial expressions contort was a huge bonus.

Kitten licking the tip, you hummed at the taste, shifting to lick a fat stripe along the thick vein curving up his shaft.

“I can’t ever get enough of your dick- fuck .. look at how pretty it is.. waiting for me to give it all the attention its begging for..” you moan, all your fingers going from the base trailing up to his head and repeating the motion as you began a trail of kisses from his pelvis up. A breathy whimper left his lips, making you smile mid kiss.

Bokuto would try and thrust into your hand but you made no effort into actually relieving him, continually repeating the same action.

“Baby please-“ he managed to choke out before lying back into the couch.

“Shh Ko... you’re so defined and toned.. mmm fuck you’re so sexy,” your lips hover over his abs right before you lick a thick stripe up to his pecks.

“H-ah… ngh- y/n please,” bokuto huffed again; each beg, huff, whine, and plea went straight to your core- but this wasn’t about you, not just yet.

You took one of his nipples in your mouth, twirling your tongue around it; your other hand came to tease the neglected one, leaving his dick unattended and angrier than before.

“s-sh-it,” he gasped.

A soft chuckle waved through you, entertaining the hardened buds a little longer before switching tactics.

You pulled off his pecs and stood up, admiring the disheveled veiw of your boyfriend. There in front of you was your big mighty man reduced to a needy boy who’s dick was crying against his pelvis. You almost felt bad.

As your smirk grew, you went to straddle his legs again, but this time you strategically maneuvered his member into your panties, placing him in between your lips.

Bo salivated at the new position, you were so wet for him; lubed him up so quick.

“Ko.. there’s one rule to this position if you want to cum..” you breathed out, “you don’t get to put it in me until I say so.”

To this, his jaw fell slack but he didn’t have time to process anything because next thing he knew, your hot puffy lips met with his in a sloppy kiss. He followed in hot pursuit as he delve deeper into the kiss with full thrusts along the entirety of your pussy, brushing your clit with each go.

Your breathing became ragged, “Kōtarō! Ah! Baby- f-UCK!” All of your moans were swallowed by his grunts. His body was so big, when he wrapped his arms around your waist, you felt so small against him. It only made you want to be even more dominant.

His tongue went into your mouth and you took that opportunity to mesh both of your damp muscles before pulling away slightly and giving yourself leverage to wrap your lips around his tongue. Almost instantly he froze, stopping all movements.

This was new.

His reaction caused you to pause but the moan he let out signaled you to continue sucking all the way to the tip before pulling off and looking into Bokuto’s eyes. They were full of shock, but a different shade. A darker shade.

“Did Ko like it when I sucked his tongue?” You cooed. You didn’t miss the twitch of his cock against you yet, he stayed unmoving, still trying to process the wave of pleasure that ran through him.

Slowly with a roll of his hip, soliciting a low moan from you, you saw that he stuck his tongue out again. He wanted you to take it.

Your excited giggle fills the room and you have a quick lick to his before grinding down on him and taking in his wet muscle again, this time sucking a little harder.

When you let off with a muted pop, he said in such a low tone that you felt it through your chest all the way down to the pooling heat right above Bokuto’s cock, “Alright puppy,” as he spoke, he pet the top of your hair before sliding his hand around your neck in one swift motion, “time for me to cum and I want you to lap up every single drop.”

—-

tags: @twilightwrites

#fawn daydreams <3 #bokuto koutaro #haikyū!! x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#hq bokuto #haikyuu smut #haikyū!! smut #bokuto smut #bokuto koutaro smut #hq x y/n #hq #hq smut #hq imagines #spiked apple cider

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aziliang · 3 years ago

Text

Kou, Wake Up Koutaro!

“How do you guys cope with each other’s sleep schedule, you’re a night owl and he’s a literal energy ball?” has always been the question Akaashi receives whenever his relationship with Bokuto is brought up, but contrary to popular belief.

Koutaro has always been a heavy sleeper and you have to double that during intense training days months before the opening of a new season. He takes a minute or two completely lying on the bed staring at nothing to orient himself, reprogramming his senses to be able to function properly. It has been an unspoken rule to not wake him abruptly and make him function, it’s the perfect recipe for chaos.

Also, another hoax is that Akaashi is a killjoy kind of dude. He’s not, if anyone would ask his former teammates in Fukurodani or Nekoma players, they would laugh at the mention of it. Akaashi has always been great at pulling innocent pranks and surprising someone, pranks that he could easily get away from because he doesn’t look like he would do such a thing.

Koutaro’s birthday is hours away and none of their friends have heard from Akaashi about his plans on his beloved’s birthday, they just hope and standby that it wouldn’t go chaotic as last year.

“Kou, wake up! Koutaro- Wake up!!!” Keiji hurriedly say as he shook him awake.

“Huh- uh? Who are you?”

“Wake up, Koutaro! We have to hide the body!” Keiji continued, tapping Koutaro’s cheek to wake him fully.

“Body- what? Where am I?”

“We have to hide the body! There’s no meat or crackers in prison, Kou!!!” He pulled his boyfriend up against the headboard, but Koutaro has already been shaken awake with the mention of prison.

“PRISON??? NOO I DON’T WANNA GO TO JAIL I’M INNOCENT-”

“Shh!! The neighbors might hear you! We have to hide the body properly so we don’t have to go to prison. Let’s go before the police arrive!” Keiji pushed him to their living room where said ‘body’ is found.

“But who are you! There- there’s another me.. WHAT??? WHAT’S HAPPENING??”

“I told you, we have to hide the body!” Keiji gestured towards the mannequin where they pasted Koutaro’s cardboard standee.

“BUT THAT’S ME!! WHO AM I IF THAT’S ME??? KEIJI STOP LAUGHING!!” Keiji couldn’t suppress his laughter any longer and is now kneeling on the floor, laughing his lungs out.

“Wait- Keiji?! Yaaah!! Answer me!” Koutaro demanded, patiently waiting for the other to stop laughing.

“I- I’m sorry, my love. It was a silly idea I just thought of last minute. Oh my goodness, I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard this month.”

“But what’s happening, Ji? Why’s there a mannequin of me in the middle of our living room??”

“Ah! Right right. I made it yesterday to see if the clothes would suit you. Come closer, love.” Keiji gestured to Bokuto did, pulling Keiji between his arms in a back hug.

He tiptoes as he gently discards the cardigan from the mannequin and turning around without pulling away to show it to the taller.

“Well, I’ve been thinking to give you something for you to take whenever you go to your away games or just simply when your training gets too much. Kuroo pointed you would love a jacket especially after training or games so you won’t catch a cold.”

“And you bought me this cardigan?”

“I… made it actually. The exact size you would love since the sizes and designs in the mall aren’t that unique.”

“Awee, my baby wanted me to have something only I have!”

“Yes, yes I do. So I made this, it’s reversible you see-” Keiji continues to explain hw he made the cardigan, and Koutaro’s eyes just focus on him, leaving the world around them in a blur.

It’s a dark blue cotton cardigan, big enough to have space for Keiji to sneak in. Has two front pockets with insulation to warm the taller’s hands after the games. There’s a massive galaxy littering from the back upto the front where several stars and moons were painted with white and silver colors, surrounding a golden sun at the center of the back. Inside was the black fabric that could be reversible to Koutaro’s liking. It holds a simple design that clutched Koutaro’s heart. Keiji’s signature that occupies the entire space of the back.

“I know it doesn’t look like i would put a mark on you but-”

“I love you…”

“Oh- I love you too, Kou. You like it?”

“I love it, baby! Especially your signature, i love how pretty it looks and it would be pretty on me too, right?”

“Everything’s pretty on you.”

“I love you, my darling little sweetheart. Thank you~”

“I love you too, my beloved sunshine. Anything for you~”

They stood there in the middle of the night, in their living room, indulging in the warmth and love each other radiates. They couldn’t ask for more, for all they need was each other.

“Why the gift tho?” Koutaro breaks the comfortable silence, sending Keiji in another fit of laughter.

“My love, it’s already 2 in the morning.”

“Yes and? Is it our anniversary? Oh my gosh, Keiji i forgot to prepare you a gift!”

“Happy birthday my lovely owl. I love you to the moon and back.” Keiji finishes, shutting the other with a quick peck on his lips.

“To the moon and back, darling. You always have me.” Kou whispers before showering the other’s face with soft little kisses.

#bokuaka #bokuto koutaro #akaashi keiji #surprises #bokuto's birthday #akaashi is a little shit #fluff #AKAASHI KEIJI IS A GREMLIN

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markberries · 4 years ago

Text

i l i k e y o u┊draco malfoy

info: you like draco, but he likes pansy. it isn't until a party in the room of requirement makes you realize how much draco didn't like you.

warnings: cursing

genre: angst, fluff, hufflepuff!reader, halfblood!reader

word count: 3300+ a/n: LMAO THIS IS SO BAD AND ITS UNEDITED HAKJSDADH enjoy

"isn't he just so cute?" you giggled, staring at your crush from across the room. the air smelt of burning wood, sunlight seeping through the window panes. professor snape was carefully eyeing each of the students as they prepped their potions, yet your eyes stayed glued to the well known trouble maker who sat in the front of the class.

"y/n, are you ever going to help me with this potion? i know you're good with them and i could really use your help!" ron whined from beside you, poking at your shoulder repeatedly. "bloody hell, were you slipped a love potion? it's just malfoy."

you turned to ron, smacking his arm, and he let out a small "ow". you sighed, helping ron gather materials to make the current potion. "stop acting like my crush on draco is new."

"but y/n, listen to me, nothing good can come out with malfoy, and i'm pretty sure you're just fascinated by the idea you have of him in your head," ron explains, tossing the items into the cauldron, "i mean, have you even talked to him?"

you freeze for a moment, clearing your throat. "y-yes i have, um.. i bumped into him in the hallway and i said sorry."

ron soon realizes what you mean, pity patting you on the head like a child. sighing, he says, "he didn't say anything to you, did he?"

you shake your head, taking a whiff of the potion you and ron created in front of you. you've had a crush on draco since the beginning of this year, which was currently your fourth year at hogwarts. of course, malfoy didn't pay any attention to you.

"god," you cringe, scrunching up your face after smelling the absolutely disgusting potion, "that smells terrible. guess we've made it properly then."

"ugh, you're right," ron replies, backing away from the previously brewing cauldron. you look around, seeing that students are still attempting to complete their potions, so you had a bit of time to waste.

you hear draco's laugh from across the room, pansy parkinson by his side. your mere infatuation with malfoy wasn't enough to make you jealous (because personally, you thought it was an ugly emotion), but it did strike something in you when you watched draco and pansy giggle like idiots together.

people always thought you were crazy to like draco; he was mean, rude, and a pain in the ass, but you continued to see the good in him (or the good that you thought he had). being a hufflepuff who was infatuated with draco didn't grant you anything when it came to popularity, but you couldn't care less. you just thought draco was truly a nice guy on the inside.

"hello? earth to y/n? class is over!" ron waved a hand in your face, making you snap back into reality. you blinked a few times, before looking around to see students exiting the class to go for lunch, and you watched draco leave with pansy.

"come on then, i'm starving!" ron hurried you, pushing you out the door to go to the dining hall, literally grabbing you by the robe because you could not stop staring a malfoy.

tonight was the night of the room of requirement party, all houses invited (hosted by gryffindor, and slytherin was somehow invited as well), and you wanted to use this to your advantage. you wanted to tell draco how you felt, because you were tired of admiring him from afar, tired of awkwardly blushing when you spotted him, and tired of hiding your feelings.

but, unbeknownst to you, draco did know that you had a crush on him. only problem is, he has been trying to get with pansy. he thought you were too quiet and that you weren't really his type, so he avoided you. he always noticed your stares and the way your cheeks heated up when you two met eyes.

when people told him that you liked him, he would brush it off with a scoff and talk about how untrue the rumors were, because he didn't want you to cry to him about how he didn't like you. so, tonight at the party, his plan was to avoid you completely.

—

you twirled in the mirror, taking a look at your fourth outfit change. it was a plain black skirt, paired with a tight yellow turtleneck with a black oversized sweater on top of it, only showing the collar of the turtleneck. you sported black converse high tops, and you honestly felt proud of yourself for actually choosing an outfit on time.

exiting the dormitory, you were greeted at the front of your common room by harry, ron, and hermione, who were talking amongst each other, before looking over at you.

"so i'm guessing today is the day then, right y/n?" hermione asks you, raising a brow. you tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but you were already nervous. harry noticed your difference in mood, and patted you on the back.

"don't worry y/n," harry comforts you, "it's just malfoy. still don't get why you like him, because he truly is an arse, but i'm sure he'll think your beautiful."

you bury your face in your palms, stressing yourself out by picturing the worst case scenarios. "oh god, i really hope it works out."

"calm down, i'll sucker punch malfoy if he says anything stupid, alright?" ron comments, and you hear a snicker from hermione, which makes ron look at her and say, "is something funny?"

the four of you start heading down to the room of requirement, carefully trying to avoid any prefects who were not on board to the party, and avoiding any professors. all of you entered to see students engaging with one another, laughter erupting throughout the room and bouncing off the walls.

it smelt like vanilla and you didn't mind, you waved at some friends from hufflepuff and greeted others, but only looking for one person in particular; draco malfoy. you peaked around corners and asked around, until you saw the familiar slytherin talking up pansy by the back wall.

he saw you coming, but averted your gaze in order to stay focused on pansy. she was talking about her classes and malfoy was listening intently as you made your way towards him, but he chose to ignore you. you waited patiently, hands clad together with sweaty palms. your heart was pounding out of your chest, but you attempted to control your body language.

for the rest of the party, you pretty much followed malfoy like a lost puppy. you just wanted to tell him, but you felt like he was always too busy to talk to. he was always around pansy, and you really didn't know what to do.

"y/n, are you alright?" you hear hermione from beside you, whispering in your ear.

"yeah, i just haven't really gotten the chance to tell draco yet.."

hermione nods, before giving you a pat and leaving to talk to harry and ron.

"hey pansy," draco says, clearing his throat. pansy turns to him, tilting her head. "yes, draco?"

"could we talk outside? just for a moment," draco asks her, and she complies, following draco outside the room of requirement. when they're outside of the party, he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, his face scrunched up.

"well?" pansy asks, waiting for a word out of draco.

"well.. i just wanted to ask you if we could go out for butterbeer sometime, but not as friends, you understand what i'm saying?" draco asks, and pansy looks speechless. she searches for a reason to reject malfoy, not wanting to carry the weight of guilt among her shoulders. she remembers you, following malfoy around, and she uses that to her advantage.

"sorry malfoy, but i think somebody might've already called dibs on you," pansy states, looking at draco, searching for any negative emotion toward her on his face. malfoy frowns, staring at the door of the room of requirement.

"i'll talk to you later," pansy smiles, entering the party once again. draco wasn't mad at pansy, no, he was mad at you. too blinded by the terrible feeling of rejection, he blamed everything on you. he thought about how if you had just left him alone, pansy would've gone out with him (which was not true). draco goes back to the party a few minutes after pansy had left, and you rush over to him, tugging on his black and green robe.

"um, draco i need to-" draco cuts you off, ripping his robe away from your grip. "no, y/n!"

you flinch, startled by the volume and tone of his voice. his face has anger written all over it, and you became frightened. the golden trio hear malfoy's yelling, turning to where the sound was coming from.

"i-i just wanted to say that i like-" malfoy groans, rubbing his face in frustration. "i know you like me, y/n! for god's sake, everyone knew! you weren't very subtle, y/l/n. stop trying so hard, halfblood. because of you, i got rejected. i don't like you, and i don't consider you a friend. i don't even consider you as an acquaintance. just stay away from me."

your face turns red, growing warmer by the second. at this point, you're staring at your shoes, too scared to look up at draco. tears are welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall as malfoy continues to talk. your throat starts hurting because you refused to cry out, and your hands were trembling.

"draco malfoy!" harry roars, rushing to come to your aid. ron puts both hands on each one of your shoulders, trying to get a glimpse of your face. he sees your glossy eyes, and pulls you into a hug.

"oh now you've done it, malfoy," ron hisses, turning his head to look at draco. draco scoffs, crossing his arms. "what are you gonna do, weasley?" draco shoots back.

"he won't do anything," hermione starts, eyes full of hatred, "but i will." hermione punches draco in the face, making draco yelp in pain. he holds his nose while crabbe and goyle run over to him.

"i-i'm sorry," you sniffle, "it's my fault."

"no no, shh, it's not your fault y/n," ron coos, stroking your hair in an attempt to calm you down. draco eyes you, hearing the shaking in your voice, and feeling a slight pang of guilt. i mean, did he have to yell at you that much? hermione backs up to check up on you, and harry is still glaring at him.

"lets go y/n," hermione smiles at you, and you nod at her and say softly, "okay."

all of you leave the party, eyes glued to your form. when you finally got out of the room, you took a deep breath and felt a slight sense of relief to finally get away from draco. you thought that this would've gone better, you expected rejection but not in a situation like that. on the way back to the hufflepuff dormitory, all four of you stayed silent.

you felt too tired to talk, and i think the other three understood that. when you reached the common room, you thanked your friends, saying that you were alright (which was not true, but they knew you didn't want to talk about it). you waved them goodbye, heading up to bed, and feeling nervous about the following day.

—

the next day, you got ready like normal, but you were awfully quiet, and draco took note of that. he no longer heard your laughter from across the room, and you stayed focused on your studies. you didn't want to look at him, afraid that he would yell at you again, so you stayed away, just like he asked.

your friends would ask you if last night had affected your new behavior, but you just assured them that it wasn't the case, which was a lie. you were just too scared to say something wrong, or to annoy draco again.

draco watched you as you wrote in your notebook, an unreadable expression on your face. he was restless, the night before, thinking if he had said too much. he thought it was a bit harsh to yell at you in front of everybody, but he still had that fresh feeling of rejection in his mind.

draco watched as your eyes wandered, looking around the classroom and other students, before accidentally catching his eyes. your eyes widened, almost like you were in fear, and then you raised your hand, asking to go to the washroom. you leave the room, gripping at your robe.

draco decides to follow you, he's not sure why, but he just does. he follows you down the hall, and he sees you sit down on a bench, breathing heavily. draco approaches you, standing right in front of you. your entire body freezes, staring down at his shoes.

"i'm sorry that you were rejected because of me," you say softly, fidgeting with your fingers. draco honestly doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know if he should say that it wasn't your fault, or if he was sorry for yelling at you. he does none of the above, and just decides to stay silent.

"um," you say, looking up at him, and draco swore he thought you were on the brink of tears, "i'll make sure to stay out of your way. i hope parkinson accepts your feelings."

you stand up, rushing to leave, the last person you wanted to talk to was draco. you didn't want to face him, honestly you were considering leaving to go to muggle school, but the thought of leaving your friends here had stopped you.

for the next week, things had stayed the same. you stayed quiet, flinching at any loud noise, and trying your best to ignore malfoy's attempts to reach out to you. he felt incredibly guilty, and his feelings got worse as the days passed. he didn't really understand how much he did pay attention to you before everything that happened.

he kind of did miss catching you staring at him, and how you would shyly look away. maybe it's because he missed the attention you had given him all the time, even if you two didn't speak.

"y/n," you feel a hand grab your arm, you didn't see who it was, but you knew that voice.

"draco please, i already said i'm sorry," you say quietly, not wanting to anger him. your friends were right, maybe draco was a bad person. you wished you hadn't tried to confess to him in the first place.

"no listen- it's not that, okay?" he says, dragging you to the side of the hallway, getting away from the other students who were walking to their classes. "i, i wanted to say i'm sorry."

when draco admits it, your eyes widen, draco malfoy apologizing to someone was very new, and you didn't know what to say. part of you thought it was a joke, that he was going to do something horrible because you ruined his chance, but blue eyes seemed genuine.

"i shouldn't have yelled at you that day, um.. it wasn't your fault, uh, i realize now that pansy was just using you as an excuse, and i'm sorry that it took me so long to realize it. i hope we can start over.. maybe as friends."

you felt like your ears were deceiving you, and you weren't very eager on becoming friends with draco, after what happened. but, you being you, you slowly nodded, unsure of your own answer. "okay, i guess. but i'm not going to lie to your face and say i suddenly lost feelings for you, i just need some time to.. adjust."

something hurts in draco's heart when he hears the amount of uncertainty that laced your warm voice, but he still nodded, respecting your decisions.

"you do know i have been trying to talk to you since the party, right?" draco asks you, and you shake your head. you're taken aback, but you decide to not talk.

"yeah, i really have," draco admits.

you deadpan, "oh. um, see you around draco."

—

after a month, you still have those lingering feelings for draco. him being sweeter to you than usual, really wasn't helping. he would wave at you in the hallways, ask to partner up with you in classes, and he seemed deeply interested in your preferences, likes, dislikes, and your life in general. it was odd for everyone else, too. it was almost like he was actually trying to be nice to you.

even though you had told draco that you needed time, it's like it went in one ear and out the other for him. he was actively trying to talk to you, walking you to class, and more. it felt like you were floating, or like you were dreaming. you convinced yourself that the guilt had probably been eating away at him, because that was really the only explanation.

"by the way, what's it like living in the muggle world?" draco asks you, resting his head on his own hand, curiosity getting the best of him. you two were out on the courtyard, where you had originally been by yourself, but he had decided to join you. you both sat cross legged, facing each other.

"ooh, what does your mother do for a living? i hear there's so many different kind of jobs in the muggle wor-"

"what the hell is up with you, malfoy?" you question, almost snapping at him, but you kept yourself in check. draco only looks at you weirdly, saying, "what do you mean?"

you roll your eyes, "you know what i mean, malfoy. why are you treating me like i'm fragile? like i'll break any second? i told you before and i'll say it again, i need time to adjust. you know that i have feelings for you, so are you trying to rub salt in the wound? because i'm really not sure what is going on."

draco laughs, "you really are dimwitted, aren't you?" he shakes his head.

"i'm sorry?" you squint your eyes at him, and he laughs again. god, you really loved his laugh.

"you're such an idiot, y/l/n," and with that sentence, he places a hand on your cheek and brings you in for a kiss. his lips land on yours, and you feel like a statue. you didn't know how to react, i mean, was draco really kissing you right now?

his lips are soft, and you felt a little bad because you did not move at all. when he pulls away, you're in awe, staring at him, shocked.

"what," you manage to get out, and draco giggles, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

"i fancy you, you idiot," draco says to you, and you swear you can feel your heart jumping out of your chest. you're still sitting in place, confusion written all over your face.

"the fuck," you sputter out this time. "you fancy me? since when?"

draco sighs, tapping his chin as he thinks. "pretty sure it was the day i caught you sleeping at the library. you had been studying for hours, a little drool on your arm as well. that was the day i decided that i like you."

you turn red, blinking your eyes.

"you saw that?"

"yeah, you looked nice that day."

draco leans back and rests his hands on the grass, smirking when he saw how much he affected you. "so, are you willing to go on a date with me?"

"o-oh, okay, wow. haha, didn't expect this," you're at a loss for words, and you know malfoy knows it, because he can't stop smiling at how stupid you probably sounded right now.

"great," he replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"you know, ron won't be happy about this."

"oh forget the weasley, is he your boyfriend?"

"who said i had a boyfriend?

#draco #draco malfoy #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #draco imagine #draco fluff #draco angst #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst

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rose-petal-spam · 4 years ago

Text

Gift

Children were not an option with schlatt, but life likes laughing in the face of her plaything's plans.

A Dark figure stood outside Schlatts front door holding a sleeping baby boy. They gently placed a kiss on his head, setting him down in a basket of soft chubby flesh with curly blonde hair contrasting to the red blanket and white envelope setting in his lap. Soft sweet words and melodies kept the child's mind at ease as the figure rang the doorbell scurrying away from the scene of the crime leaving soft coos and cries on the doorstep of Schlatts house.

-----

Who the fuck could be up at 12 o’clock in the fucking night? Ughh if it Connor or ty I swear I’m going to skin their asses.

I can’t see shit in this fucking pitch-black house!

the hallway should be around here somewhere, oh great here it is.

fuck! the peephole is too tall, all I can see is the street which of course is empty.

Probably just the neighborhood kids playing a prank but I was supposed to get a package today with a schlattcoin in it.

The door squeaked slightly open summers lingering warmth invading the perfectly cool house.

the porch looked empty at least-

A small child sat in a basket slept soundly under the porch light golden fizz crowning him like a halo.

“What the fuck??”

Did someone just fucking leave a baby on my doorstep?

I glanced down the still vacant block, nothing had changed. No slow cars or anything, just a baby in a basket with a letter sitting on my fucking front door.

What do I do?

I-

I could just walk away from this definitely is not my problem in the slightest.

God damnit I can't just leave a baby on my doorstep-

fuck!

fuck Shit ass just FUCK! WHAT THE HELL DO I DO WITH THIS?

"Hey um did someone leave their baby on my porch?"

,,,

fuck. welp I just take him in and then drop him off at the orphanage in the morning

yeah they'll be able to take care of him, he'll be in good care.

yeah, then this whole weird dream can be over.

okay, kid let's get you inside whoever left you on my doorstep must be really upset.

ugh, fuck, it's too fucking dark in here to see anything.

Where was the floor lamp again?

Fucking! where is the stupid twisty thing

ah there!

the lamp flickered to life illuminating the dim living room, soft black second-hand couches with mismatched coffee tables, and a flat-screen TV. Half of the stains on the couch had been made by Connor at this point, and Ty always insisted on using a cozy on the coffee tables to not leave a watermark despite the countless others already there.

okay um, he'll just sleep in the basket tonight.

wait aren't babies supposed to sleep a certain way?

Maybe I should let him sleep in the bed with me?

fuck what if I accidentally move and sleep on him though-

yeah, let's just keep him in the basket what's the worst that can happen-

I'll just sit on the couch and yeah

I’ll just sit here and make sure he's' okay.

Then in the morning we can drop him off and find his mom and dad.

yeah,, just um sit here and make sure he's okay

,,,

Oh fuck- the letter

how the hell did I forget- and why the hell haven't I read it yet it literally had my name on it

,,,,

,,,

fuck.

'I'm sorry to drop him off on your front door but I can no longer support him'. 'He is your son'. 'His name is Tommy after my grandfather Thomas'. 'please take good care of him'.

that bitch-

she just- after having the kid can't even go and support him!

I mean I would have-

I would have fucking helped out if I knew!

How haven't I heard anything about this?

fucking hell, I have a kid- I'm a dad now I guess? how the fuck-

I don't know the first fucking thing to being a dad

wait fuck am I ready to be a dad?

would I even make a good dad- I run a fucking scam business

how am i-

Small sounds came next to me, the small wiggling infant was stretching himself out kicking the blanket away. His bright blue eyes glanced at the world around him before falling shut again. I don't know why, but everything in me just swole with pride looking at his stupid ravioli sized fist and beautiful blue eyes

I can't drop him off at the orphanage tomorrow

fuck

I can't just leave him.

I um

I guess I am a dad now? fuck I'm not prepared at all for this.

A small tight squeal erupted next to me as Tommy wiggled upset by something.

Fuck-

"fuck um- wait- shit no-no"

fuck I don't want to hurt him-

"shh shh it's okay little guy I got you it's okay"

his soft body fit in my arms as I gently cradled him, rocking him back and forth as he softly fell back into a deep sleep.

Okay yeah, yeah I um.

I can do this.

I'll be a good dad for you toms.

-----

A tale like any other filled the room: big happy balloons and birthday cake sitting on a table with a now 8-year-old Tommy sitting across from Jschlatt. The candles had long since lost their wish powers and gifts already opened and played with. Connor and Ty were sipping on their drinks listening to the story of how we got here with frosting-covered silverware and a now 9-year-old boy casually adding their comments on how Jschlatt didn't even know how to change a diaper before ty stepped in. Jschlatt had just finished his story of the now happiest day of his life.

"-and that Toms is the story of how I became your dad"

Tommy looked amazed and confused, his brows furrowed in thought.

god, he looks so much like me when he does that.

his horns should start sprouting soon too if I am correct.

"So I was your gift," he finally responded, "like from the Easter bunny?"

Conor snickered, remembering the panicked phone call he got that night at 1 am with Tommy crying in the background while I pleaded for him to come over and help. It was far from a gift at the time, more like being shoved into a car going 40 miles an hour with no clue what to do.

But I gotta bite. I would never trade it for anything in the world ever.

"Yeah, and to this day it's the best thing he ever got me way better than chocolate in my humble opinion"

yeah, the best gift I could have ever been given.

-----

This took a lot longer then the first fic ill admit but its also twice as long so i hope you guys injoy it just as much.

also again thank you gheysnakelady or @dadschlatt-tommyau for this amazing au i really like it.

#dadschlatt tommy au #original writing #fanfiction #tommyinnit #jschlatt #i honestly made the mistake of comparing my writting to others while writing this #so there was a point where i was like is this even god?#but i think i am happy with how it ended up #im not good with angst but maybe ill dabble in it #just for you gheysnakelady #anyway can i not post this to my main now #sorry for the two ping btw #i didnt mean to

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angelictaehyun · 5 years ago

Text

PAIRING: guardian angel!taehyun x fem!reader

GENRE: guardian angel au, soulmate au, fluff, angst

WC. 3,000+

WARNINGS: minor alcohol usage, mild language, feeling of loneliness

SYNOPSIS: Kang Taehyun, a sassy, young guardian angel, didn’t think anyone could be more of an absolute mess… boy, was he mistaken.

PART ONE || PART TWO || INTERLUDE || PART THREE

As you sobbed into your pillow while simultaneously inhaling ice cream, Taehyun was a world away, absentmindedly picking a piece of lint from his left wing. Not long after, he was standing in front of Soobin, an elder, receiving yet another assignment to none other than you, Little Miss Crying Mess, who’d already gone through an entire box of Kleenex in an hour.

His job was easy (and he’d be lying if he didn’t think himself a pro): silently look after you, keep you from harm, and do his absolute best to make you happy. But you would make that extremely difficult for him. When he glanced through your extensive profile, he didn’t think anyone could be more of an… in nicer terms...

Absolute fucking mess.

Like good God, yes, your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, now) cheated on you, but that was a month and a half ago, and you weren’t even with him that long. So why could you not shut up and stop crying?

Taehyun wasn’t supposed to think this, guardian angel and all, but what was he supposed to do? You had raccoon eyes from your dried mascara and a pending noise complaint from your neighbor across the hall.

Funnily, the first time he ever saw you, he felt his jaw drop. Although you were possibly the ugliest crier he’d ever seen (and he’d been alive for a millennium and a half), he saw past that. He awed over your piercing eyes which held so much life in them; your adorably round face that was puffy from all your crying; your silky hair which he wanted to run a hand through.

He felt his heart yearn for you, like you were a magnet pulling him in.

In his first week on the job, he felt nothing but pity and sadness for you. The way you seemed so lifeless and drained had him motivated to mend your aching heart. Of course, you didn’t see or feel his presence; he worked tirelessly and quietly, doing small stuff to make you smile. For example, he’d slip a $20 in your pocket every once in a while for you to find when doing laundry (you never found them, and he was out $80 by the end of the week). He also gradually refilled your bare fridge with your favorite food, hoping you’d eat them and feel a semblance of joy, but you never touched it. Instead, each meal was a piece of toast (and occasionally a handful of Goldfish) and an entire bottle of wine.

He prayed for your liver.

His second week, he felt even more determined to see your beautiful smile. However, without his help, you had finally decided to take a shower and mosey your way back into society, a decision he was grateful for since you were beginning to resemble a dying gerbil. He accompanied you to your local coffee shop, following closely behind as you weaved between people on the sidewalk, oblivious to you, of course. The day was going well for you; the barista accidentally sized up your order, the jazz band in the park played your favorite song, and you felt the warm sun on your face for the first time in a long while. That is, until you ran into an old friend and found out she recently became engaged.

He practically saw your flip switch as you plastered on a fake smile and acted as if you were fine. When you finally left, you couldn’t even make it halfway to your apartment before you were breaking down once more.

His third week was when he decided to take on a more drastic measure. When he re-read your profile to find a list of your core memories, he realized you had a lot of love for snow and snowfall. So he made it snow.

In the middle of June.

Nonetheless, he completely ignored the fact that it was a logistical nightmare, thinking it was a perfect idea, sure to bring a smile to your gorgeous face. When you woke up the next morning, feeling extra chilly, Taehyun felt giddy, especially as you moped over to your window and watched the crystalline snow fall from Heaven. He felt proud, especially when he noticed a single tear cascade down your cheek; he believed he overwhelmed you with such happiness, you cried. But when he heard you mumble something like a ‘Yeonjun loved snow,’ and crawl back into bed, he widened his eyes, plopped himself on your desk, and gave up. Not only did he have to deal with a crying you (again), he also had the entire city population wondering why the hell it was snowing in the middle of summer.

Most of his fourth week was spent on your floor, playing with your dog, devising a new plan to cheer you up, and waiting for you to wake, as you spent most of your day sleeping… though he preferred you asleep since it meant you weren’t crying. Rather than feeling that pity and empathy from his first day on the job, each time you shed a tear, he found himself growing more and more irritated, so when you cried again for the eighth time that week, he had enough. He undid his glamour which kept him hidden and made himself visible to you. He fixed himself a sandwich, sat on your desk, and waited patiently for you to notice his presence.

Much like any sane person, when you saw a random, unknown boy aggressively eating a sandwich and watching you from less than six feet away, you screamed bloody murder (which was the reason behind the second noise complaint from your neighbor). You scrambled to the opposite side of your bed and balled your hand into a fist while the other reached for a firm, weighty object, as if that was going to protect you from what you believed was about to be certain death.

“STAY BACK!”

“Y/N, Y/N, it’s okay, it’s okay. Let me explain myself,” he tried reasoning as he slowly approached you as one would approach a flighty deer. You reached for every pillow you could and hurled them his way. As he busied himself dodging them, you sprinted from your bedroom to the front door, but just as you reached for the doorknob, he appeared from literal thin air in front of you, making you scream even louder.

He grabbed your shoulder in an attempt to calm you but that just heightened your fear. You thrashed around in an attempt to escape, ignoring how his grip on you was outrageously strong.

Almost inhuman.

When you finally took in his massive, iridescent wings, a small part of your brain put it all together. The other part of your brain, however, was on fire and assumed he was a nutjob hellbent on killing you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, letting go of your shoulder.

You made another failed attempt at reaching for your doorknob. This time, he grabbed your hand.

“I’m not here to kill you.”

Your eyes narrowed and your body relaxed (barely).

“My name is Taehyun and I’m an angel. Your angel, actually.” He spun around, showcasing his golden wings.

You let out an inappropriate snort, which was quickly replaced by a choke as he began moving closer toward you. Your body stilled and you screwed your eyes shut.

You felt nothing but the cool tip of his wing brush against your arm as he moved by you. After a long minute of silence, you took a deep breath to calm yourself and hesitantly opened one eye, just to be met with the sight of him comfortably spread across your couch. He mindlessly picked at the fabric of your favorite throw pillow and threw a leg across your coffee table. He seemed all too familiar with your apartment, which was a frightening realization. You watched him with bated breath as he merely glanced over your trembling figure, tilting an eyebrow. He seemed disinterested… almost bored.

You shuffled behind your kitchen counter, making sure to put plenty of distance between you both, and once you were sure there was enough space, you took him in. He was breathtaking, to say the least. His perfectly pink lips, razor-sharp jaw, defined nose, bright eyes, and high cheekbones, it was like he was sculpted by God himself. You must’ve stared too long because you saw his lips lift into a smirk. You shifted your eyes away and folded your arms across your chest defensively, “Fine, I’ll play along. Why should I believe you’re an angel?”

He tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, “Are you blind? I literally have wings.”

“Which could be fake for all I know.”

He scoffed in disbelief, “I’ll have you know, these are most certainly real. Excuse me.”

You silently leaned back against the counter with a look of disinterest and pursed lips. He sighed before turning around, allowing you to see his wings begin to glow and suddenly disappear in a flash of bright light. You were left gaping as your mind ran wild, though only a single thought consumed you, “Why do I need a guardian angel? What could I possibly need one for?”

“Well, your life… um, it’s kind of ass,” he replied as if it were obvious.

Now it was your turn to be offended, “Excuse me? Who the hell are you to tell me that?”

“Your guardian angel?! A-are you deaf? Why else would I be here? You think I’ve enjoyed watching you mope around your apartment for the past month? You shower, like, once a week, and honestly, you look like a soggy rat. All you do is cry and never shut up, I can’t believe you’re even still capable of forming a tear! Actually, aside from when you’re asleep, this is the longest I’ve seen you go without breaking down sobbing!” he scolded as you stood in your kitchen, insulted by his harsh rant.

“They why stay? Go find someone else to bother, it’s not like I want you here anyway!”

You picked at a hangnail and anxiously nibbled on your bottom lip. You didn’t even know why you were so offended; he was a complete stranger. As if he knew, he shuffled over to you, close enough to reach for your hand, and surprising you both, you didn’t pull away.

“Look, I’m sorry, but like I said, your life has been hard. When your mother passed away, you had to live on your own as soon as you graduated high school, and now you can barely afford college because all of your money goes to rent. Then your boyfriend does what he did? Not to bring up old scars, but you need all the support you can get. That’s what I’m here for.”

You yanked your hand away and scoffed. ‘Not to bring up old scars,’ he says, bringing up every single scar.

“I’ve been doing perfectly fine on my own. I don’t need your help and I especially don’t need you lurking around. Please leave.” You pointed at your door before sulking back into your room.

“You’re getting my help whether you like it or not!”

That was the last thing you heard before you slammed your door.

· ──────────────────── ·

The following week was unpleasant, to say the least. Each and every morning, you woke to his annoyingly handsome yet smug face as he sat with his feet kicked up on your desk… and this morning was no different.

“Good morning, Sunshine! You know, you’re quite the deep sleeper, your heinously loud snoring couldn’t even wake you… but it definitely woke the dead,” he cheerfully remarked, plastering on a self-satisfied smirk. You ignored him and pushed your way by his tall frame on your way to your bathroom sink. Much like the week before, he appeared from thin air and perched himself on your counter. Despite your lack of response, he continued, “We should do something fun today, maybe go get some sun? You’re looking a little… lifeless.”

He examined your body from head to toe. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he seemed concerned, but he masked it well with his smugness.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” you mumbled hoarsely.

“Then don’t go with me! Call a friend or go out by yourself, I really don’t care. Just please get out,” he whiny begged. He hated seeing you cooped up in your small, dinky apartment. He wished for you to experience life again, and he especially wished to see the light return to your eyes and the bright smile he knew you kept hidden.

“No.”

Once you finished brushing your teeth, you climbed back into your warm bed and scrolled on your old phone. He clenched his jaw at your stubbornness, trying his best to stay calm. It was only 9:32 AM and you had already managed to piss him off. He knew you were headstrong, he didn’t need to read a profile on you to know that; just one day around you and he already picked up on your obstinance. He jumped off the countertop and climbed onto your bed to hover over your body. His breath fanned your nose as he trapped your body between him, wings draping over you both like a blanket. You were shocked and once again, left breathless just by being in his proximity, and you could feel your pulse rapidly increasing as he glanced down to your lips.

He leaned closer and closer, and you nearly closed your eyes, until he snatched your phone from your hand.

“You’re not getting this back until you go outside and do something. Anything. For the love of God,” he pleaded, pulling back quickly. The sudden lack of warmth snapped you out of your haze.

“Oh my God! Gimme!” you helplessly whined.

“Are you five? You know what you have to do to get your phone back.” He slapped your hand away as you tried to steal it back.

You refrained from punching him, instead narrowing your eyes as he did the same. You both had an unspoken contest until you broke first. His harsh gaze pierced you; he was too intimidating.

“Fine,” you snapped, making your way from bed to get ready for the day.

· ──────────────────── ·

There was a small, quiet beach near your childhood home you loved visiting every once in a while. The tranquility of the ocean lapping at the shore always provided you with a feeling of peace.

Until now.

You had chosen to go out by yourself, much like Taehyun had suggested, but your plan quickly faltered when he reminded you that he would be with you regardless, either glamoured or visible. Seeing as you didn’t necessarily like the idea of him invisibly lurking around, you opted to have him visibly by your side. You’d rather see his judgment rather than feel it from afar.

So there you were, watching him smother an obnoxious amount of your expensive sunscreen onto his face as if he were a human and not a supernatural being that’s completely unaffected by UV. It’d been a week since he came into your life, or at least made his presence known, and he was already a pain in your ass.

“I have to maintain my cover somehow.”

“What?” You didn’t know what cover he was trying to maintain, his pesky wings were hidden, and overlooking his outright godly features, he looked perfectly human.

He did a poor job of rubbing the sunscreen into his skin and for the first time since meeting him, you felt a smile creep on your face. He looked like an idiot. You almost let him be since you were so amused, but you helped him out anyway. Standing on the balls of your feet and cupping his face, you began smoothing the sunscreen on. He held your waist, holding you steady, and you felt nervous from the proximity but you did your best to conceal it. He silently studied you, thinking you looked incredibly adorable as you focused on your small task, your eyes narrowing in concentration and your teeth biting into your soft lips.

He couldn’t help the way his mouth tugged into a small smile.

“All done! Now you don’t look like a ghost,” you mused.

“Thank you,” he snorted, releasing his firm grip. Instinctually, he kept himself hovered around you, though, never really creating a noticeable distance.

You were thankful he pushed you to leave your apartment, but you knew you could never tell him that. You just knew he was the type to constantly bombard you with ‘I told you so’, and you’d never hear the end of it.

The rest of the day, he watched as you laid on your blanket and basked in the sunlight, eventually getting up to walk the shoreline. You kept yourself occupied as you searched the sand for pretty shells and dainty rocks, and Taehyun forced himself to keep his distance, not wanting to disturb your peace. This was the calmest he had seen you since he was first assigned and he felt so grateful; he didn’t show it but he couldn’t bear seeing you in pain. Yes, your crying was growing extremely irritating, and yes, the pile of used Kleenex beside your bed was beginning to disgust him, nonetheless, he wanted to see you happy.

When you stopped to blankly stare at the vast ocean, he could’ve sworn he could feel your pain, the way your heart ached, the way your mind was heavy with despair. The pain he felt wasn’t one of heartbreak though, rather… loneliness.

In fact, all of your pain stemmed from feeling completely alone.

He quickly made his way over to your side and grabbed your much smaller hand in his—he wanted you to know you weren’t alone anymore. You didn’t turn to him, rather you kept your eyes trained on the sun beginning to set on the horizon. You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, relishing in his warmth and the crisp tide washing over your feet.

For reasons he still had yet to decipher, he yearned to always be by you, protecting you, making no harm ever came your way again. He tried shaking off the feeling as doing his job properly, but something in the back of his mind told him this was different.

Something about you was different.

And he could quite literally feel it in his heart.

Chapter Two >>

#taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #txt writing #txt imagines #txt x reader #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #huening kai #hueningkai #txt #tomorrow x together #txt fluff #kpop imagines #my angel

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celeste-clearwater-06 · 4 years ago

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A warm spring day in Neville's 5th year was a perfect day to go out and find productivity by examining some greenery near the Black Lake. He had brought fresh parchment and a quill outside with him, and he scribbled down perfectly literate handwriting, observing a blade of gold and olive-colored grass.

And coincidentally, he was not the only student who needed a breath of fresh air and to break away from the horrid witch, called Umbridge.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her small, hand-knit bag that she slung over her shoulder.

She found a seat underneath a willow tree, sat close to the edge of the lake, and tucked herself close to the trunk, which made the perfect makeshift seat between its large and knotted roots.

Y/N sat cross-legged, and carefully emptied the contents of her bag.

A well-used sketchbook and pencil, and a few snacks that she had been gifted from the generous house-elves after she had skipped lunch.

A fluttering of wings drew her attention away from the beautiful landscape and watched with a smile as her sand-colored tawny owl perched himself on a gangly root close to her.

"Hello, Percy. " she smiled, and gently stroked the top of his feathery head with two fingers. He closed his eyes with a content chirp, making Y/N chuckle.

"I brought you a little snack. Are you hungry?"

She held out a small piece of bread, and let the owl happily snatch it from between her fingers.

Y/N then looked down at her sketchbook, feeling the urge to let her creativity discharge onto the paper. She scanned her surroundings longingly, trying to unearth any spark of inspiration. Her eyes scanned over large trees, and the captivating lake, watching as a few mermaid tails skimmed the water's surface and delved back down below. A small whip Scorpion scuttled along the ground near Y/N's feet. And when she grew frustrated that no inspiration had come to her, she saw him.

Neville Longbottom, her long time crush, seated on the lush terrain with his legs sprawled out, as he scratched words onto a piece of parchment, and gently biting down on his lower lip in concentration.

Perfect.

A sight for her sore eyes, and for a moment, Y/N can't tear her memorized stare away from the flawless presence about 20 feet away from her.

And when she could finally look away, it was straight down to her hands, watching as they mindlessly duplicated the stunning image not far from her.

Neville felt… strange. He felt the piercing stare of eyes on the side of his head. Nevertheless, he didn't draw his attention away from the violet petals of a beautiful flower. He figured that it was just his subconscious and panicked mind. It always felt that way, since he was known as the fool, the klutz, the screw-up of Hogwarts. He felt like people were always there to judge him.

But if only they were in his shoes. Then they'd know how hard it is to be him. To be Neville. For a moment, the feeling went away, and relief washed over him, but that feeling was short-lived, and the pressure began again.

Neville shifted uncomfortably and furrowed his brows just a bit more. He suspected it was just Draco and his obnoxious goons and decided to just let them stare and conjure up a plan to tease him.

He knew it would never change, and he would just have to live with that.

But, still, his conscience was persistent, and he found his attention pulled away from the delicate flower between his soft fingers, and surveyed his surroundings. And his heart skipped a beat.

Y/N had her beautiful eyes locked down in some sort of book, hand moving in gentle strokes across one of the pages, and her eyebrows knitted together, completely lost in her little world. Next to her, sat a small owl with unusually large eyes. It stared intently at Neville, and then let out a loud chirp.

Y/N smiled, looking up from the book, and up at her owl, speaking to it in a delicately inaudible voice, before realizing that it was staring at something. Neville's face flared as red as his house color, seeing her gentle smile and wave in his direction, and he could hardly lift his hand to wave back.

He watched as Y/N chuckled, then turned back to her book continuing to scribble with eagerness.

He tried to continue looking down at the fragile plant in his hand, but his infatuation with the girl nearby was all too much for his timid heart to handle.

Y/N sighed with relief, seeing him turn back to his original position, permitting the opportunity for her to finish the black and white sketch of Neville. She added finalizing touches, like the golden sun reflecting off of his chocolate-colored hair, and his beautiful long eyelashes that fluttered when he blinked.

She looked up one last time to confirm that she'd made the art perfect, but Neville was gone.

Her heart sank, knowing she had missed another opportunity to talk to him, but jumped out of her skin when she heard a cough on her opposite side.

Y/N quickly turned her head, to find Neville standing above her, wringing his clammy hands together.

"M-may I sit here?" He inquired politely, and immediately averted his eyes when hers widened.

"Absolutely."

Y/N's answer surprised Neville, but he thanked her quietly and accepted the offer of her hand patting the ground. As he lowered himself in between Y/N and a tree root, Neville caught a glimpse of the drawing in her hand and his eyes widened in astonishment.

"That's amazing!" He gaped with perplexity, referring to the art with a nod of his head. Y/N flushed and choked on her own words.

"Ooh, uh yeah…I-I mean thank you! Thank you." She stuttered, internally hexing herself for doing so.

"How in Merlin's Beard did you do that?!" Neville asked, reaching his hand out, and stroking the pencil marks on the well-used paper.

"Just practice I guess. Takes a lot of work, but it pays off in the end." Y/N so badly wanted to place her hand on top of his.

"What spell did you use to do this?"

"Sorry, what?"

"What spell?" Neville repeated, "I had no clue there was a charm for art."

"There's not…"

And Y/N thought Neville's eyes couldn't get any wider.

"REALLY?!"

The loud noise startled Percy, causing him to screech loudly, and flap his wings. Neville gasped.

"Shh, shh it's okay Percy!" Y/N soothed the owl, with a marvelously lulling voice, and Neville just stared in bewilderment as she was able to Instantly calm him, stroking the top of his head.

"I-I'm so sorry!" Neville whispered guiltily, "I didn't mean to scare him."

Y/N laughed sweetly, making Neville's heart skip a beat.

"It's alright. You don't have to whisper."

"R-right. Sorry." His attention was drawn back to the sketchbook. "So you really drew that yourself?"

"I did…"

"You're incredible…" Neville muttered and quickly realized that those words were not meant to leave his mouth.

"I-I mean, the drawing is incredible! A-and you are too! AGh… Merlin, I'm pathetic, aren't I?" He hid his bright red face in his hands

He heard Y/N laugh again, and found that her face was just as red.

"I don't think you're pathetic, Neville."

He looked at her with a deep marvel.

"Y-you know my name?"

She nodded, looking back down at her book with rosy cheeks.

"C-Can I ask you a question?" Neville spoke very quietly, turning to admire the lake a few feet away from them.

"Sure."

"Why did you draw me? There are plenty more interesting things to draw, than me."

Y/N was quiet for a moment, and Neville instantly regretted asking the question, afraid it made her uncomfortable, but before he could speak up, Y/N answered.

"I like to sketch things that I think are pretty."

She answered simply, closing her eyes as the spring air blew gently against her face, and leaned her head back on the trunk of the tree.

Y/N didn't see Neville's face burn an intense shade of red, or how he grinned from ear to ear, mimicking the way she leaned against the willow.

"You think I'm pretty?" He muttered.

"Well, yeah I guess. I think you're very interesting. You seem very nice." She opened her eyes, looking over at Neville, anxious with the sound of his silence.

He was still grinning like a fool as he stared out at the captivating body of water. Y/N found herself starting. He was even more handsome close-up, with the reflection of the water creating beautiful moving patterns that danced across his complexion. He blinked his ivy green eyes a few times.

"Nobody's ever found me interesting unless I'm making a fool of myself." Neville's smile quickly vanished, and he looked back down at his fidgeting hands and picked at a loose string on his cable-knit sweater.

"I can assure you, I think you're more than just a fool. Not everyone can see that, though I'm not sure why."

"Well, I'm not the bravest Gryffindor, for starters. Not as great as Harry Potter. I'm the only one who can't cast his Patronus for Merlin's sake."

"You're brave for trying at least. There's a reason I'm in Hufflepuff, you know. I couldn't do half of the things you Gryffindors could."

"Well sure you can. Hufflepuffs are amazing!"

"Yeah… really though, I think you're incredible Neville."

Neville had nothing else to say. This girl was not one to let him talk down on himself.

After a few moments of stillness, Y/N coughed.

"I think we should get back before Umbridge sicks her evil quill on us."

This made Neville chuckle, a deep, butterfly inducing sound that made goosebumps crawl up and down Y/N's skin.

"You're right. T-thank you by the way."

Y/N looked over at him, realizing she was practically the same height.

"For?"

"Being so kind. It's not every day that someone wants to draw me."

Y/N blushed, and then got an idea, the thought evident on her face as her eyes lit up.

"Here." She ripped the page, and Neville stared in horror at the sound of tearing paper filling his ears.

"What are you doing?"

She pulled out a cleanly torn page, with the picture of Neville, and then held it out to him with a bright smile.

"A parting gift."

"You don't have to do this. Y-you worked so hard and-"

"It's fine, really. I always find the time to make more."

"Thank you. So much. Really, I mean it." Neville's face hurt from smiling so much, as he stared down at the beautiful artwork.

"You're very welcome." Y/N grinned and dusted off her clothes before standing up on her feet.

Percy fluttered from this perch and up onto her shoulder. Neville still hadn't looked away from his gift, and hardly noticed the girl holding her hand out.

"Need some help?"

He froze, locking eyes with Y/N, and unable to form even half of a syllable, with his bright burning expression.

Finally, he could move his head just enough to replicate a nod, and lifted a trembling hand to place in hers. And he would have melted into a puddle of happy-Neville right then and there if it weren't for the fact that he needed to get back to herbology class.

Her hands were warm and soft, and immediately he grew anxious that she would notice the sweat on his as she helped pull him from the ground.

When Neville was back on two feet, he had nearly forgotten how to walk, being so close to this beautiful angel.

He tumbled forwards a little bit, almost knocking Y/N over, and she laughed, helping him stand up straight.

"Oops!"

He quickly pulled his hand away and started to stutter, but Y/N cut him off.

"Hey, you dropped something."

She pointed down at the grass, and Neville noticed it as well. It was the same purple flower that he had been studying earlier. An idea of his own came to mind, and he stooped to pick it up, before holding it out to Y/N.

She gratefully accepted the beautiful plant and tucked it in the front pocket of her black school robe.

"Thank you, Neville! It's beautiful!"

"Y-you're welcome." He smiled shyly.

The two acquaintances walked up towards where they had originally come from, having a deeply intriguing conversation about this so-called "Dumbledor's Army" that Neville had spoken of earlier, and though both of them had been very shy and hesitant at first, they walked away with one thing in mind; they were happy that something good had changed.

A/N- I hope you enjoyed this little one shot!! I know, im not super experienced with the entire set up of this format, but I'll get used to it eventually!! Thank you!! ❤❤

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom #harry potter #x reader #hufflepuff

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gh0stiegirlie · 5 years ago

Text

synopsis: all it took was one glance at the hotheaded boy at the U.A. exam, and you were smitten. for deku, it was a single act of kindness that instigated his immediate attraction to uraraka. several months into school, best friends y/n and deku are left heartbroken when. uraraka and bakugou start a relationship. when you and deku find yourselves confiding in each other, a question arises; is this love, or loneliness? are you two better just as friends?

length: 3.5k words

pt. 2 ->

a/n: that moment when you start a new bakugou series in the middle of another bakugou series 🤡 I hope you enjoy the result of procrastinating on my other story and writing a little too much.

It all started the day of U.A.’s practical exam.

You were pushing your fingers down on every tender joint you could pop, loosening your body as much as possible for the physically strenuous activity ahead. When you bent over into the downward dog position, through your legs disheveled blond hair caught your eye. His hair was so spiky if you pricked your finger on a strand, it would draw blood. You stretched out your back before crawling your arms up your body until you were standing, then turned to examine the boy.

It looked like someone had glued a golden porcupine on his head, a hairstyle that on the majority would look hideous. But the way his bouncing spikes threatened to poke anyone who came too close as he stomped around, made it suit him. When you lowered your eyes to the rest of his body, that was when you discovered this pomeranian boy was not only super hot, but super fit. His tight black tank top hugged his upper body, and his shoulders and biceps alone were so bulky it looked like the straps may snap. Along with that, the flimsy top did nothing to hide his abs from the imagination. He had developed muscles in places you never knew muscles existed.

As you were not-so-subtly checking this guy out while pretending to stretch, another contender approached the boy. She was stereotypically hot, with full features and an unattainable sinched waist. A flare of jealousy hit you like a wave of heat, and you nearly used your quirk to warn the girl to back the fuck off. This feeling immediately dissipated when he aimed his hand at the girl and dismissed her... with a fucking explosion. Within seconds, she was in a dazed heap on the other side of the warm-up room with some minor burns. The whole room fell silent, turning to the boy with petrified expressions. He nonchalantly shoved his hand in his pocket, leaned on one leg, and clenched his jaw. Although his posture was shit and his pants were sagging, you could tell he wasn’t a fool.

“Now, if any of you other extra’s feel like messing with me,” his vermillion scanned the crowd for someone attentive and vulnerable, and they eventually fixed on you with a smirk, “don’t.”

He made your knees weak with one word.

That’s when you started falling.

When you discovered you were in the same class as Bakugou, you were ecstatic. Back then, your crush was a minuscule weed in your garden. It sat among the fully grown flowers of your aspirations, completely harmless.

You’re now halfway through your first semester at U.A., and your crush on Bakugou has fully blossomed. Whether it’s grown into the weed or a rose, you’re unsure. All you know is your love weed is now the size of a goddamn oak tree, and for it to grow to this extent, it has pushed the rest of your garden out of the way.

You spend half of your Math class stealing subtle glances at Bakugou, watching him repeat the teachers' lessons to himself in hushed mumbles as he writes down every word in his notebook. He has a habit of vehemently taking notes to the point of dulling out his pencil, groaning when he has to shove it into his pencil sharpener (he used to use the schools, but he grew too irritated of leaving his seat every few minutes), only for his poor pencil to require another sharpening moments later. Following Math is English, and during this class you enjoy gazing out the windows to daydream. Your English classroom was built with large oblong windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling to reveal the grand U.A. courtyard below and you tend to use it to study the upperclassmen. You watch the class of 2-A enjoy their lunch hour as they walk, eat, and hold hands around campus. Sometimes you imagine them as you and Bakugou. You think about holding his hand while dancing around the cherry trees, eating lunch with him and his ‘Bakusquad’ and much, much more.

Love is a strong word, and you’re hesitant to label your feelings accordingly. But damn, are your feelings strong for this boy.

Deku can say the same about Uraraka. He literally fell for her on the way to the practical exam. And even though she caught him, he’s continued falling ever since.

Everytime Uraraka spars during training, Deku gives her his undivided attention. Not because he’s a perv or anything-- he just admires her so much. Her quirk requires her resourceful and thoughtful, so she always has a brilliant plan up her sleeve. His favorite part about her battles is the way she smiles when she knows she’s won. It’s never a smile of egotistical pride; It’s a smile that displays she’s satisfied with herself. That she acknowledges she’s victorious, not because “she’s the best”, but because she worked for it. He can never hold back from beaming himself. When someone that cute smiles, how can you resist?

But, there is a difference between you two. Deku holds the advantage of being friends with Uraraka; You simply adore Bakugou from a distance, while everyone else hates him from that distance.

Until one day, Aizawa mentions the first-semester partner project. You already know Izuku is going to choose Uraraka, and you know Iiada wouldn't be caught dead partnering with you (even though the class calls you the 'golden girl', you're still a bit too 'rebellious' for his taste.) From the way Kaminarai and Kirishima smirk at eachother, you're pleased to see they're going to pair up, because this leaves Bakugou with no partner. A spot you would love to fill.

After class you don't rush to make it to Bakugou, knowing no one else wants to be his partner after what happened between him and Kirishima (Lots of Bakugou yelling how “shitty hair is an idiot!” and using textbooks as a weapon to smack Kirishima’s head). But you wouldn't mind. You would be happy just to be his idiot.

You're snapped out of your daydreams when Uraraka spontaneously approaches Bakugou. You smirk and lean against your desk, expecting a hilarious interaction that starts with a heated “GET AWAY FROM ME WEIRD GIRL!!” and ends with a very large explosion. I mean, at the sports festival, not only could he not connect her name with her face, he had absolutely no fucking clue who she was! But instead of blowing her away in a fit of rage, as he did with that girl so many months ago, they talk.

You and Deku never discussed your feelings for those two with each other, but you acknowledged them. You being his closest friend, it’s clear as fucking day that Deku is head over heels for Uraraka. And being your best friend, it’s obvious to Deku that you want to smash faces with the class hothead.

So, naturally, as the two of you watch this interaction unfold, there’s a mutual feeling of disgust. An unspoken what the fuck?! is exchanged between your eyes, until Deku’s lip quivers and he quickly looks away while you glare daggers into Uraraka’s stupidly hot body. After a few infuriating minutes, it’s grossly clear their conversation isn’t concluding anytime soon. You’re repulsed as you ask Deku to be your partner, to which he responds with a meek head nod. You sigh and hug the poor boy. Surprisingly Deku doesn’t start crying blood when you, a girl, touches him. Instead, he nuzzles his head deep into your neck, as by now he’s comfortable with your friendship.

"Hey, do you wanna go out for ice cream?" you ask when you pull away. You nudge him with your elbow. "I'll pay!"

Izuku blinks away his tears as he agrees, desperately trying to block the waterworks from leaking.

"Cmon, Zuzu." you coo, exiting the classroom. Before you and Izuku head to the dining hall, you shoot a quick glare at Uraraka, who is purposely shoving her tits out in Bakugou's face as she laughs at whatever he just said. At least you know he's better than to fall for that... Hopefully.

"One Yukimi Daifuku and one chocolate Sofuto Kurimu, please," you ask the cafe cashier. She mumbles the amount you owe, and you shuffle your hand around the change in your pocket before handing her a few dollars.

When you bring Izuku his icecream, he lifts his head off the table. He plays around with his food for a while before sloppily shoving a scoop in his mouth. You moan when you take your first bite.

"I swear, this ice cream is top tier!" you boom in enthusiasm. "Like, seriously, who allowed cafeteria food to be this good?!"

A short chuckle escapes Izuku's frowning lips. "That's U.A. for ya. The food somehow gets better every day."

"I know, right!" You use your spoon to point at Izuku's Yukimi Daifuku. "I feel like they handpicked that rice in your Yukimi from U.A.'s personal rice fields." you joke, which finally breaks Izuku's drab demeanor. He lets out a genuine laugh.

"I don't think U.A. has it's own rice fields." he rationalizes. The knot in his stomach loosens every time you make him laugh, allowing his appetite to grow. He takes a few eager bites of his Yukimi Daifuku. You playfully punch Izuku's shoulder.

"Really? This place is so fucking big I wouldn't be surprised if it had its own strip club or someth-MFF!" Izuku cuts you off by slapping a hand over your mouth. He pulls it back to his and signs "shh".

"Y-Y/n! Be quiet!" he warns, his face dark red from stifling his laughter.

"What?! You don't want to think about All Might gettin--" you stop here, because Izuku has buried his face in his hands in order to ignore you. You laugh. "Okay, okay Deku. I'll stop." You ruffle his hair platonically.

"Thanks. I was afraid I was going to throw up my Yukimi if you kept going." he expresses, to which you laugh again. There's a fleeting pause as the two of you take a moment to appreciate each other's presence. Maybe all you really need is each other.

Maybe, as long as you're just friends, everything will be okay.

"Thanks, Y/n. I needed this." Izuku smiles, and you can't help but smile with him.

One week later, the project is due and the weird partnership between Uraraka and Bakugou remains unmentioned between the three of you and Iiada. You’ve wanted to discuss it with her, but Izuku keeps holding you back. So the four of you engage in breakfast per usual; laughing, talking, and stuffing your faces. By this time, you assume Uraraka has forgotten about her little stunt. But it remains at the forefront of your mind, because what the fuck?!

Deku believes it to be a momentary lapse in judgment, but you know girls better than that. She had been plotting that move for a while. Uraraka probably spent weeks building up her self-esteem enough to talk to him, and then another few days encouraging herself to actually do it.

So, when Uraraka skips over to Bakugou that day, you’re not surprised. But, what she does next shocks you.

Uraraka kisses Baugous cheek.

You wait expectantly for Bakugou to send her flying out a window. Instead, he smirks and wraps his burly arm around her thin waist. Her waist is so thin, his arm fits around it like a bracelet. How can you even compete with that?!

And then, they walk out of the classroom. Just like that. Like a fucking couple.

That’s when the world crumbles around you.

Friday nights are always the days you and Bakugou attend the gym at the same time. Normally, his presence is a positive motivation to work harder, knowing he can look over at you at any moment.

Tonight, you bury your eyes into the back of his head and pretend he's the punching bag. You restrain yourself from using your quirk to explode his brain (you actually can’t do that, but still), as if he even has one. If he’s dating Uraraka, he must not. You understand she’s cute or whatever, but they’re so fucking different.

Apparently, this past hour you were hitting the punching bag vigorously enough in precisely the right places for it to tear. Sand pours onto your feet, and that's when you decide to call it night.

You manage bottle most of your emotions until you’re alone in your room. That’s when you shut off your lights, put on your sad vibes playlist, shelter yourself in fleece blankets and let the tears flow. Your shaking shoulders churn your stomach, and it feels like you’re vomiting out your emotions. Your heart stings with every beat, and every sob irritates your raw throat. You're not just another teenage girl crying over a stupid boy. You've grown up putting all your energy into improving your quirk, always two steps ahead of the rest of your class’ mentality. When you first saw Bakugou, you saw someone whos grown up always giving everything his all. You saw someone like you, and you fixated on something that wasn't just being a hero.

At this point you've been fighting for Bakugou for so long, he's grown beyond a dumb crush. Now that you've lost this battle, you realize how alone you feel. He’s a motivation. Not only do you train hard to improve your quirk, but you train hard to surprise Bakugou with your strength. You don't just study for good marks, but to impress Bakugou.

Your goal to be a hero has always occupied your whole heart, but Bakugou managed to slip in there somewhere.

And you can feel the hollowness of his gaping hole.

Eventually, you compose yourself enough to grab some Suppa-Mucho Premium Ponzu, a jar of Nutella (with a spoon to eat it out of, of course), and a cup of hot chocolate from the kitchen.

On the way back to your room, you hear sobs emitting from a nearby hall. As you follow the twists and turns of the dorm, the cry grows familiar. You soon find yourself standing outside Izuku Midoriyas' room. You quickly (but carefully) run to the kitchen to microwave another cup of hot chocolate before knocking on his bedroom door.

“Duh-Don’t come in!” his voice is nasally, but he lowers it an octave to sound like his usually preppy self. Although hero-training teaches you students how to put on an emotional mask, you’re able to tell when your best friend is faking.

“It’s me, Izuku.”

“Come in,” his raspy reply is barely above a whisper.

You jiggle the door handle open with your elbow and find Izuku wrapped in a blanket of feelings, like you were earlier. He wipes the tears off his cheeks and rubs his eyes, burying his head deep into the blanket to hide his sadness. Though his loud, shaky breaths give away the fact he was crying. Like you couldn’t hear him from across the dorms.

“Hey. It’s okay, Zuzu.” You’re standing behind the door, presenting snacks and two drinks with a somber smile. “I’m here.”

Izuku lifts his head when he smells the steaming hot cocoa. He grabs the drink that has whip cream with tiny marshmallows and flakes of caramel sprinkled on top, just the way he likes it. You set down the snacks on a nearby coffee table, then drink your hot chocolate beside him. When a sip leaves a small white mustache above his upper lip, you can’t help but giggle. He does the same.

You don’t ask why he was crying, and he doesn’t ask why you were walking around with comfort food late at night. Instead, you enjoy each other’s company. The events of earlier today have made you realize that things will always be the way they’ve been since the start of this year. That you’ll only ever have each other.

And maybe that’s why what happens next… Happens.

You are wrapped up in a blanket next to Izuku watching Whisper of the Heart and munching on a bowl of chips. Like some sort of cliche, the two of you reach for a chip at the same time. Izuku immediately pulls away, an incoherent apology spilling from his lips. You ignore it, overwhelmed with a sudden bubble of emotion. It was only extreme for a brief moment, but the remnants of the feeling linger. The electricity he transferred to you keeps your fingers twitching as you grab a snack. So now you’re pondering over the feeling while nibbling on a chip;

How come, when Izukus hand brushed against yours, you felt something?

Everytime you’re near Bakugou, your heart palpitates. Not only out of fear-- because the man is fucking terrifying --but of recognition of his power. Out of admiration of his intimidating, yet confident personality.

When you touched Izuku’s hand, your heart fluttered. A cocoon of butterflies erupted in your chest and tried to lift you off his bed-- but why?

Was it because now that Bakugous out of the way, your true scandalous feelings for your best friend are no long eclipsed? Or is it because now that Bakugou is out of the way your brain needs a new hot boy with biceps to focus on?

Izuku questions the same thing himself. If you took a second to look, the light of the TV would reveal the blush on his cheeks. His hands tremble in his lap as he hopelessly attempts to cover the growing boner in his pants, a side effect of thinking about you in this new romantic light.

All this time, has he been love with you, not Uraraka? Or has her sudden abandonment left a vacancy that needs filling, so he’s turning to his best friend?

You move the bowl and scoot next to Deku. Your body heats up as his tenses.

“Hey, do you wanna share a blanket?” You ask, forcing yourself to sound as casual as possible. Even though trying to flirt with your best friend is way out of your comfort zone.

“Uh--sure!” Deku squeaks as he wraps his blanket around your shoulders and you throw your fleece over your laps. You arrange yourself so the side of your thighs press up against Deku’s, and rest your head on his shoulder

He sweats nervously, and smells of bergamot and… Fresh laundry. It’s pleasant, though not as hypnotizing as Bakugous sweet caramel. Bakugous scent leaves you hungry for him, while Deku makes you feel… Comforted. Like receiving a warm hug from a friend. A completely non-romantic friend. A platonic friend. What the fuck are you doing?!

You repeat the words “platonic” and “friend” in your mind to remind yourself what Deku is to you. But the longer your bodies touch, the anstier you grow to touch more. Just to see what it feels like.

Yes, Zuzu has been your friend forever-- Doesn’t that the experience of dating him even better? Doesn’t that make you want to steal his first kiss, so he’ll forever hold you in his heart? Doesn’t that make feeling his body shudder from pleasure under yours even hotter?

You bite your lips at these thoughts, unaware Izuku is imagining the same. His face is practically the color of a strawberry-- his green hair really bringing the image all together.

You turn to one another in unison, searching for the answer in each other’s eyes; Is this love? Or is this emptiness? You and Deku silently struggle to figure out an explanation, though it doesn’t matter.

Because you kiss anyway.

As soon as you make contact, those sparks that frazzled you earlier return. When you push your mouth harder against his, they dazzle you.

Izukus lips are thin, but creamy. He’s the kind of guy who carries chapstick with him everywhere, and apparently his favorite flavor is vanilla, because when you run your tongue along his lip it tastes like ice cream. He whimpers at the feeling, and you take advantage of how sensitive he is. When you bite his lip he moans into your mouth and pulls you closer.

Kissing Midoriya is as gratifying as it is dissatisfying. Kissing someone so desperate-- so needy, for you, is empowering. It fills your Bakugou-sized hole with pleasure. But, his kiss is also cold and lifeless. The only emotion that fuels it is rejection. Behind this kiss, and behind your lips, is loneliness. You’re both anxious and uncertain, so you’re kissing what’s comfortable. And you keep kissing to replace these problematic feelings with something exciting.

Soon, your kisses become hollow. The sparkes evaporate. Izukus lips aren’t as delicious as they seemed when you first started, and the way you nibble on his lip begins to sting.

You slow to a mutual halt, deciding to bask in eachothers warmth through cuddles instead of kisses. Even though Izuku’s body is alive with the heat of your kiss, he feels cold.

You return to the movie, but the kiss leaves another question lingering in the air.

You’re best friends.

What does this mean?

Something has shifted between you two, and you can’t tell if its for the better or the worst.

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