#also if my professor is reading this: hi! I meant every word! :)

[lostandbackagain]

annoying people love telling you it's your fault if a book is confusing and boring

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (10/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex, smut, the angst, squirting, semi-public intimacy, description drug overdose, violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Although she hadn't written him back since their rather tumultuous phone call, her uncle had tried to soothe her anger by sending her pictures and videos of Vhagar at various frames and times of the day.

Through this, in the morning she would see her owner pouring food into her bowl, ordering her to stay still, listening to her squeals of impatience, then she could see her proudly carrying a big stick between her sharp fangs, and in the evening she would listen to him recording close-up footage of her dark eyes and wet nose asking her if she had missed her, with Vhagar then licking his phone.

She knew it was wrong, but some part of her felt happy about it and waited impatiently for each new message from him, because even though she didn't write him back she knew what he meant to tell her in this way: he wanted her to understand that he thought of her every day, anytime, anywhere.

She waited impatiently for news that would doom him in her eyes definitively, words from Daemon that he had killed someone again, hurt someone again, any confirmation that he was unable to change, that there was no going back for him.

There was something touching in that realisation, in the thought that he wasn't lying when he said he cared.

They both risked keeping in touch and because of that she had to have two phone cards to avoid attracting Daemon's attention, but other than that her uncle didn't try to call her or approach her, respecting her personal space.

He, however, surprised her by calling her one afternoon while she was in class. She didn't know what to do for a moment and then left the room to the surprise of everyone gathered, apologising to her professor, saying it was an urgent matter, led away by Robb's anxious, watchful gaze.

He hadn't spoken to her since his confrontation with her uncle, and she felt bad about it, but preferred not to approach him.

She had made the mistake of telling him too much and now she had to pay for it.

She sighed heavily as she stepped out into the corridor and answered, putting her phone to her ear.

"Aemond, you can't call me. Is something wrong?" She asked simultaneously frustrated and horrified.

"I got in. I passed the exam." He said excitedly, loud and clear, like a small child boasting to his mother that he had got the best mark in the class.

She blinked and shook her head, smiling involuntarily, feeling relieved at the thought that perhaps there was still hope for him.

He was really trying.

"I'm proud of you. I really am." She confessed from the bottom of her heart, wanting him to feel appreciated, to know that this was the right path for him and that she would support him in it without looking at what he had done to her in the past.

"Let's meet to celebrate. Please." He muttered, and she felt discomfort in her stomach, her whole body tensed.

"No." She said immediately, feeling fear, thinking this was another trap, another excuse to weaken Daemon.

"Just for a moment. In a public place, in a restaurant, in a café. Wherever you want, wherever you feel safe." He insisted, a plea in his voice from which she felt a sting in her heart, longing to see him and needing to keep him at bay.

"I can't, Aemond. You know I can't. I will always support you, including about your studies, but after what has happened I can't trust you." She said in a trembling voice, wanting to be honest with him.

She felt he deserved it.

She heard him swallow hard and fell silent for a long moment, making her feel remorseful, her heart pounding like mad.

"– forgive me – I had no right to ask you to do this – it was a mistake resulting from my selfishness – thank you for everything –" He said in a tone from which she felt an unpleasant shudder of self-regret, because some part of her wanted to please him, to be with him, to be happy with him, to make love to him.

But that was not enough.

"– Aemond –" She muttered, but he hung up, leaving her with an unpleasant, uncomfortable void in her heart.

She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath, trying not to cry, thinking that she had done the right and sensible thing, that she had to look out for herself and not cross the line she had drawn for herself.

It was better for her and for him.

However, she couldn't stop the unpleasant feeling of disappointment and sadness when he didn't send her any photos or messages that day or any day after. She thought that he was punishing her in this way and that it was a painful form of manipulation on his part to which she could not react.

He wanted to break her, to force her to be with him again, to make her feel remorse and let him do what he wanted with her.

She was not going to make the same mistake.

She felt for the first time that something was wrong when her professor accosted her in the corridor.

"Your friend got the best score of all the participants in the exams, Miss Strong, but he has not yet submitted all the documents. He shouldn't delay, if he doesn't do it by Wednesday, someone else will take his place." He explained, and she swallowed hard and nodded.

"I'll pass it on to him." She muttered and as soon as she said goodbye to him, she texted him.

He, however, did not write her back either that day or the next, making her cry again through the night because of him.

Was he punishing her in this way?

Was he showing her that if she did not meet his expectations he would do nothing to change?

That her presence was supposed to be the payment for him going to University?

She thought it was terribly unfair of him and that she didn't want to know him only to send him another message in despair.

He, however, continued not to reply and she had lost hope that anything would change.

"You haven't been eating lately. What's going on?" Asked Daemon, driving with her to the supermarket to buy things for dinner.

He took her to various places under his watchful eye, trying to find her activities to keep her from sitting in her room and torturing herself with thoughts.

She swallowed hard and looked away, not wanting to talk about it or lie to his face. She heard her step-father sigh heavily at her lack of response, impatient, and he was already about to say something when suddenly his phone rang in the car.

He answered by clicking the hands-free mode, connecting directly to the car's control panel.

"Boss, there's a small problem at the Moon & Stars club. There has been an incident, someone has tried to rob the safe. We suspect it was Hightower's people, but they managed to run away. They didn't take anything."

She looked at her father, who sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"Do I have to do everything myself? I'll be right there." He hissed impatiently and turned off the road, heading in a completely different direction.

He didn't usually take her with him to do his business, but now apparently the matter was serious and they were too far from home to turn back.

As they went inside, Daemon pointed his finger at one of the guest lodges to her.

"Wait here for me and stay where you are. Ten minutes and I'm back. Is that clear? You can order yourself something to drink, just have them pour it by your side in a glass." He said and she nodded, having no intention of doing anything but sitting.

Old rock classics were playing all around her, posters of bands and various guitars everywhere, red and blue lights blinking all around her, tormenting her already tired eyes.

She hadn't slept well the past few nights.

"Rhaenys?" She heard someone's voice behind her and turned, surprised to see a woman in front of her, the same one she had met when Daemon had shown her what her uncle had done to Robert.

She looked at her with big eyes, confused and terrified, because no one but him had ever called her by that name.

"Alys. We've already met." She introduced herself, extending her hand to her, holding her drink in the other, and she shook it.

The woman grinned in a way she didn't like and sat down across from her, making her feel uncomfortable. She looked around, trying to spot Daemon in the crowd, tense.

"Don't be scared. I'm a friend of Aemond's and an old acquaintance of your step-father's." Alys said calmly, taking a sip of whisky from her glass.

She looked at her with her heart beating fast, playing with her fingers in a gesture of concern.

"– but –" She muttered, unsure if she wanted to know how she knew the name that only her uncle called her by.

How close friends they were.

It seemed to her that Alys saw the question written all over her face, because she grinned even wider.

"He revealed to me the name he calls you by accident. Let's just say it slipped out to him in a moment of elation because he forgot it wasn't you lying beneath him." She said softly, without a grimace of anger or frustration, as if she found it amusing.

She swallowed hard, feeling an unpleasant sting in her heart at the thought that she was having sex with him, that he was comfortable with another woman.

On the other hand, her words sounded in her ears making her grow hot.

It slipped out of him in a moment of elation because he forgot that it wasn't you lying beneath him.

Alys sighed, spreading herself out comfortably on the couch, seeing that her words had completely shocked her and she didn't know how to act.

"Don't worry. We were never in a romantic relationship. I find the fact that he is so deeply in love with someone quite charming. For a long time I didn't know who the mysterious Rhaenys was, as there was no girl in our society with that name. It wasn't until recently that I found out for what reason Aemond kept his feelings to himself. An uncle should care for his niece, but not that much, right?" She sneered, and she swallowed hard with a loud snort of air.

Was she trying to scare her?

To blackmail her?

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked horrified, making the woman raise her eyebrows high.

"I want to help. I suspect your father didn't tell you that Aemond had recently overdosed on sleep drugs." She said, and she froze, feeling herself go deaf for a moment, and everything around her stopped.

"What?"

"He's in hospital in intensive care. I found out about it from his grandfather's co-workers. Everyone is whispering about it being a suicide attempt, thinking it was because Otto decided to make Aegon his successor. But I think otherwise." She said calmly, tilting her glass, drinking its entire contents to the end in one gulp, and set it down on the table.

"When he came to talk to me last time, he talked about you. He wanted me to help him with the Larys Strong case. Fear not: we've had nothing more in common than business for over a year. Since your name slipped out of his mouth, he was no longer comfortable with this form of intimacy, which is quite understandable. I learned his sweet little secret, but honestly, looking at you, I don't blame him." She said lightly with a simultaneously heartfelt and disturbing smirk.

Their relation was deep, she thought with regret, even if they were not together.

Something in that thought saddened her, the image of their bodies entwined together.

Did he feel the same when he saw Robb?

Are you two together again?

Are you in love with him?

"It hurts you that he slept with me. That he didn't wait for you." She stated calmly, as if she had come to some obvious, ordinary conclusion. She twisted in her seat, feeling panic rising within her, her bright green eyes seeming to pierce her to the core.

"I don't know what you mean." She muttered, looking away, red with embarrassment.

"I know he hurt you. What he did to you. In a way, I admire how you endangered yourself for him having Daemon under your nose. It's tragic that you love him so much, but it's even more tragic that he reciprocates your feelings. It saddens me to see such a young, innocent girl fall down with him because of his greed." She said dryly, making her shake her head, clenching her eyes, feeling hot tears under her eyelids.

"Leave her alone, Alys. Don't mess with her head." Daemon said, grabbing her arm and lifted her upright. The black-haired woman looked at him, sighing heavily, the expression on her face not changing one bit.

"I was just offering her my condolences."

As soon as they got into the car, her step-father began his interrogation.

"What did that witch want from you? I like her, but she's a specific person and I'd rather you didn't talk to her alone." He scoffed, pulling out of the car park. She looked blankly out of the window, feeling horribly tired.

"That Aemond has overdosed and is in hospital."

Daemon rolled his eyes, impatient, and licked his lower lip.

"I didn't want to burden you even more. To make you think it's your fault. Your uncle is trying to make himself a victim."

"He killed Larys Strong for me." She muttered and heard Daemon take a deep breath, frustrated.

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't."

"He did. Because of that rape pill. Against his grandfather's will."

"How do you know that? I forbade you to contact him. Do you want me to take your phone away from you so you'll finally wise up?"

"I don't want him to die."

Daemon fell silent and stopped at the side of the road, turning on the emergency lights. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes for a moment – they continued like that for a moment in a silence filled with tension, her fingers involuntarily tracing over the scars on her wrists.

Her reminder of what he had done to her.

"We can't help him if he doesn't want it himself. Do you understand?"

"He wants it."

"You're the only one who believes that."

"After they imprisoned me in their house, he stayed in one room with me all the time. He cried constantly, like he was a little baby. He is broken. He begged me for forgiveness."

"If he had really cared about you, he would never have done this to you."

"If your father had bequeathed in his will what was due to you to someone else, would you have left it that way?" She asked, glancing at him. Daemon shook his head, sighing heavily, shaking the dust off his trousers.

"If you cared about peace, you would have made a deal with them. My mother doesn't think justice has been done, but she remains silent for your sake. She will not stand up to you." She said coldly. Daemon looked at her with a gaze from which she froze.

"Careful now."

"Or what? You've always resented me for lying. But can you be told the truth without fear of the consequences? Do you only want to hear the kind of truth that is convenient for you?"

"Your grandfather bequeathed to your mother what he wanted in his will. Nobody forced him to do that. Do you think I'm going to give it back to them so they won't be sad? So that your poor one-eyed uncle doesn't cry? Wake up. Why do you think Viserys passed everything on to Rhaenyra? Hm? Is it because he's in love with me? Because he despised his sons? No. Because he knew that whatever he bequeathed to them, Otto would take it. He showed him that he never really trusted him and he was absolutely right."

They stared at each other in silence, the air around them so thick she felt she had trouble catching her breath. She turned her head away, feeling only fatigue, only regret.

"Take me home."

Daemon snorted and shook his head, taking off with a screech of tyres, furious.

Only money mattered, only influence, only power.

Everything else was just an obstacle to the goal.

When they got home Daemon held out his hand to her, startling her.

"Give me your phone."

She pressed her lips together, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad in rage.

"No."

She saw her step-father smack the inside of her cheek with the tip of his tongue, standing with his hand stretched out in front of him.

"I don't like repeating myself."

"No."

"Should I call your mother? Are you going to tell her that you talk to your uncle and what you do with him in your free time?" He sneered, making her feel a squeeze in her throat. "Come to your senses."

"Tell her what you want. I don't care." She said dryly and moved ahead, running upstairs to her room.

She locked herself in the bathroom and changed the card in her phone, looking in her contacts for Helaena's old number, the one she'd given her when they were still little girls, praying she'd answer.

"Hello?" She heard her soft voice on the other end and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hi. I'm sorry to bother you. I know Aemond is in hospital. He's passed his university exam, but the deadline for submitting his documents is today. They should be in his flat in the envelope he got from the University. Are you able to fill them out and bring them to the Archaeology Department tomorrow?" She asked in a whisper, afraid that someone outside would hear her conversation.

"Oh. Okay. Okay, I'll try." She muttered, and she breathed out heavily, feeling relieved.

"Thank you. How is he?" She asked quickly.

"He's still not awake, but his condition is stable. The worst is behind us. Our mum tried to call him but he didn't answer, so she drove there to see what had happened. Thank goodness she had spare keys to his flat."

The next day she set it as a point of honour to convince her professor and dean, appearing with Helaena, that the situation was exceptional and procedures could be bent in this situation.

"I didn't know my friend was in hospital. It happened suddenly and for this reason he could not bring the documents yesterday, which however his sister has with her today."

"We cannot accept them without his signature." Said the dean, making her feel an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach at the thought that her uncle would wake up only to find that his chance was gone.

"I ask for your understanding in this unique situation. He is unconscious at the moment and fighting for his life. As soon as he is able, he will come to sign the documents in person. The professor told me that he passed the exam with the best result. He's been through a lot and I don't want his work to be in vain." She said, and the man sighed heavily and nodded.

"Very well. But as soon as he is able, he is to appear here immediately and explain to me in person."

She sent him another message that same day, knowing from Helaena that he was finally awake and that nothing was threatening his life anymore.

He, however, did not write her back.

Was it because of her that he had done this to himself?

Was it because she had not met him?

She felt anger and remorse at the same time, but mostly she was relieved that he was still alive.

Lying alone in bed late at night, she thought she would go mad if she didn't find out why he had done it, so in a gesture of despair she decided to call him to find out how he felt.

She shuddered when she heard him pick up, but he was quiet, complete silence on the other end of the receiver.

"How are you feeling?" She asked softly, wondering if she was about to hear a litany from him about how much he had suffered because of her, that he didn't want to live because of her.

Would he try to manipulate her with remorse.

"Exactly as I deserve."

She swallowed hard, completely not expecting such an answer, not knowing what to make of his words.

Exactly as I deserve.

She lowered her gaze, playing with her duvet between her fingers, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"Did you… really want to do this?" She muttered, dreading his answer, and he laughed, as if something in her question amused him for some reason.

"No. I wanted to see how you felt that day."

She froze, feeling her breath get stuck in her lungs, her eyebrows arching in pain at his words.

"Your suffering is not my desire, Aemond. You hurt me, but I don't want revenge. I just want… to stop feeling this unbearable pain in my heart that I have felt in my chest for eight years." She muttered, simultaneously wanting to see him again and forget him, to run away from him and let herself be locked in his arms once more.

"I regret it so much. I told my grandfather that I didn't want him to involve you, but he said that if we didn't, someone else would want to take advantage of Daemon's weakness for you. And I believed him. I thought that Larys will actually try to do something to you again, but only now do I understand that it was a simple lie that I easily accepted to justify myself. Fuck, I'm so ashamed, baby, I really am." He choked out with difficulty, whooping with tears, making her freeze completely, just listening to him.

"My father took everything from me. I did these fucked-up things to other people for nothing. I mutilated them for nothing. The only thing he left me is the property by the sea, the same one where I lost my eye, as if he had made a mockery of me. I was so lost. I still am."

She swallowed hard, staring dully ahead, feeling as one by one tears ran down her face.

Some part of her understood him, knew how hurt and disappointed he must have been, but another couldn't forgive him for somehow using her to get revenge on Daemon and her mother.

She felt like her head was going to burst.

"What do you want, Aemond? Truly. Be honest." She asked, impatient, and heard him swallow heavily.

"I want to study and see you once in a while. In a public place, so that you feel safe."

She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling the heat in her stomach and chest, for which she rebuked herself in spirit, trying to remain sober in her mind.

"And that's it? What about your family? About your business?"

"My grandfather limited my influence and responsibilities after I shot Larys without his knowledge. He no longer trusts me and doesn't assign me important tasks."

It was only then that she understood why he had actually overdosed.

He had lost his business.

He had lost his grandfather's respect.

He had lost her.

He was alone, exactly as he was then.

His face contorted in pain and despair, his red cheeks flooded with tears, his eyes closed and his hands clenched into fists then, as he stood up to his waist in the sea water, alone and terrified.

"The University Library." She said feeling that she had made up her mind.

"I don't understand."

"We can meet in the University Library."

"Really?" He asked excitedly, as if she had given him a wonderful surprise, and she swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in her throat.

"Only there and for a short time. Once in a while. If I find out you did something to hurt me or my family, you'll never see me again."

She didn't care about their business, their money, their eternal need to prove to themselves who was in charge of this town.

She just wanted her friend back.

The next day she turned up at the agreed place all tense, hiding her little pocket knife in her bra beforehand, afraid that he would trick her again.

That he would betray her again.

So many emotions were rattling through her head that her hands were shaking and although she tried to concentrate on reading her textbook, she couldn't. When she heard the sound of the door opening and raised her head from the book, she drew in a breath, seeing his silhouette emerge from behind the bookcases.

He stood still, as if petrified, his eyes and mouth opened wide.

"Hi." He muttered as if choking.

"Hi." She replied, looking at him watchfully, ready to run away.

She swallowed hard as he simply pulled off his leather jacket and sat down next to her on the big, soft cushions.

Afraid of how much her heart was pounding, how euphoric she felt at the sight of him, she decided to turn her thoughts away from that and get to the point, pulling from her backpack her notebooks that she had brought for him.

"I brought you my notes from first year. Read them, if you can't decipher something, I'll try to guess what I wrote. They'll come in handy for you before semester exams." She said indifferently, handing them to him one by one. He nodded and swallowed hard, taking them from her, clearly not knowing how to act.

"Thank you."

Having no idea what more she could say, she leaned back and sank into reading her textbook again, afraid to look at him, afraid of what she would see in his gaze.

She shuddered and took a breath as he lay down beside her and put his head on her shoulder, exactly as she had done when they had read books together as small children.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling tears squeeze into her eyes at this tender memory.

He heard her uneven breath, his moist, soft lips brushed her neck as his hand touched her waist, locking her in a warm embrace that felt too good, too safe.

No.

"– please –" She muttered, but didn't have time to say anything else because he interrupted her.

"– I have a gift for you –" He said, surprising her completely, taking out a rose-shaped red lollipop from his pocket after a moment. "– I didn't know what kind of flowers you like, so I bought one like this – the sales lady said it has a strawberry flavour –"

She felt touched and at the same time pained at the thought of how sweet and thoughtful this gift was. She took it from him, turning it in her fingers, no longer able to remember the last time anyone had given her something without an occasion to just make her smile.

"I'll eat it later. I don't want to get the books dirty now. Thank you, that's very kind of you." She said softly, putting the lollipop aside, and he nodded, his face pressed against her cheek as his fingers ran slowly over her face.

For some reason she didn't understand when he leaned back, her body followed him, laying next to him on the soft material. She let his arm draw her closer, his hand combing through her hair as her fingers touched his chest.

He nuzzled her face into the hollow of his neck, and she closed her eyes, smelling the pleasant scent of his aftershave and his masculine perfume, making a wonderful warmth spill over her lower abdomen.

"Several of my father's men are dead. They were shot on your grandfather's orders." She whispered, not wanting to forget who he was or what he had done.

She heard him sigh quietly, his fingers trailing over her head and down her back, playing with the curls of her hair.

Why did she feel so surprisingly safe in his arms, why was she so relaxed, so calm, why did her chest fill with some strange, unnatural relief?

"I know."

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

"No. My grandfather restricted my field of action after we called the emergency services when you…" He didn't finish, and she swallowed hard, knowing what he meant.

She decided she had to ask him this question, even though she was so afraid of his answer.

"If your grandfather tells you to kill Daemon or my brother. What will you do then?"

To her surprise, he seemed to have expected her to ask him this, for he answered almost immediately, without hesitation or uncertainty in his voice.

"I will tell him to do it himself. The times when I was his dog are over and he knows it. He has no idea what to do with me. I'm out of his control."

Something in his words, in the confidence with which they left his throat made her feel hot in her heart. She lifted herself up on her arm, wanting to look at his face, knowing that even if his lips lied to her, she would see the truth in the look of his healthy eye.

"What's your plan?"

Her uncle hummed under his breath, his hand from her neck sliding down between her breasts, trailing along the buttons of her dress, making a hot shiver run down her spine.

He was doing this on purpose, she thought.

"I want to start acting on my own." He said cautiously and looked at her with a glint in his eye that she didn't like.

"What do you mean?" She muttered involuntarily.

"If you think there's a way I could escape this world, you're wrong. Even Daemon didn't escaped it, he simply gathered his most trusted people and expanded his influence. I want to do the same, and I will start by taking over Heavenly Beach. Since Larys is dead, chaos has reigned there, and I intend to take advantage of it. Many of my grandfather's people don't like the vision of them having to work for Aegon in the future. They neither respect nor fear him." He sneered, saying the words as if he was proud of himself.

She stared at him in disbelief, not expecting such a response from him, the fact that he would dare to think of cutting himself off from his grandfather, of breaking away from his leash.

His words surprised her so much that she didn't know what to say, what she felt, what she thought about what she had just heard.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when his finger tapped her breast where her pocket knife was tucked under her bra, feeling the cold sweat on her back at the thought of him noticing it.

"– wise girl –" He hummed, using this as an excuse to tease her through the material of her dress, rubbing the spot under where he knew her nipple was.

She swallowed loudly, feeling a wave of pleasurable heat surge through her entire body, the place between her thighs pulsed painfully hard, embarrassingly wet and eager for him not to stop.

She thought she would not give him that satisfaction.

"What do you intend to do with my step-father?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he looked at her with a smirk, shamelessly closing his hand on her breast again and again, no longer even pretending that he meant anything other than to feel her.

"Nothing. I won't attack him first. For you. He has nothing to do with Heavenly Beach." He muttered, spreading himself more comfortably on the cushion, already focusing only on where his hand was and what it was doing to her. She shuddered as another wave of tickling pleasure and tension shook her loins, her fingers involuntarily clenching on his wrist.

"– stop – someone will see –" She mumbled, looking around, terrified that Robb or anyone else who knew her might see them.

"I want it back." He whispered. "I want what we had during that summer."

She swallowed heavily, looking up at him in shock, feeling her heart get stuck in her throat and stop beating for a second.

I want it back.

I want what we had during that summer.

His words, so childish, simple and ill-considered were too painfully honest for her, his gaze hot and thirsty, full of what he was speaking of.

"I…God, after all, you know it won't work. We can't. No one will accept it, no one will understand. We'll be miserable again." She whispered pleadingly, shaking her head, unable to even imagine what it would look like.

To him, however, it clearly didn't matter anymore, and that shocked her the most.

"If you don't want it, I'll understand it. What I desire is fucked up, like my whole person. But I want you to know that what happened between us… then, when my father died. It was real. I've never felt more alive and fulfilled than then, being deep inside you. You were so warm." He said, running his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek, making her turn all red at his words, her cunt all slick from her moisture clenched greedily around nothing.

"Aemond." She mumbled in embarrassment, involuntarily feeling him inside her again, the thrusts of his hips forcing him deep, deep into her delicate flesh.

"I don't care how wrong it is. I don't care about morality. I've done far less moral things to other people. Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins." He confessed, sinking his hand into her hair, looking at her in a way that made her want to cry.

Making love to my niece seems to me the smallest of my sins.

Making love.

"Someone might say it's disgusting and wrong, but I only care about what you want. I don't give a shit about others. What they will think of me, whether I live by their rules or not. What can they do to me? Mock me? Fear me? They are already do. It's not about me, it's about you. I don't want to ruin your life."

She burst out crying at his words, because although he had hurt her so much, some sick part of her had longed to hear it for eight years. She moaned quietly as his lips began to place quick, helpless kisses on her face, his wide hands enclosing her in his embrace, trying to comfort her.

But she knew there was no comfort for them.

There was no future for them.

"– please – please, I don't want you to cry because of me –"

"This is just too much. I wish I could be a child again. To go back to that sea. To fall asleep next to you in that room. I wish I could feel again the peace I felt then. Your presence next to me. But I can't have it." She mumbled, choking on her own tears, involuntarily seeking relief in his proximity, feeling grief at the thought that he could not be the strange man she was allowed to love.

"You have it. You have me. You always had."

She looked up at him and froze, breathing hard, looking straight into his eyes, one empty and dead, the other filled with the hot affection she so feared.

"Do you like me?" He asked, and she blinked, not understanding what he meant. She nodded, however, wanting him to know that no matter how hard she tried, she was incapable of hating him.

"Very much?" He continued and smiled as she nodded again, breathing loudly through her mouth, trying to calm the convulsions of her body.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

What?

The two of them, then, by the sea, walking side by side, the white shells in her hand, his soft, moist lips that evening on hers, his warm embrace as she lay snuggled into his body at night, in his room, in his bed.

"This time I'm aware of what I'm asking for. What I want. And although I should, I'm not ashamed of it. I have wasted eight years that I could have spent with you, no matter how much we would both have suffered during that time. I want to suffer with you by my side now." He whispered, tucking an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear in a gesture so tender that her voice stuck in her throat.

"I wish I could trust you, but I don't know if I can." She muttered with difficulty.

His eyebrows arched in pain at her words.

"I know. I'll wait as long as it takes." He whispered, his broad, warm hand running over her cheek.

I'll wait as long as it takes.

She was terrified by the fact that everything inside her screamed that she wanted him back.

She wanted him to be close.

She wanted him to touch her.

She wanted him to love her.

"You can only embrace me and hold my hand. No kisses on the lips and don't try to take me." She muttered, to her surprise instead of shame feeling relieved.

Against everything and everyone, morals and good manners, everything she valued in life.

They were together.

To her simultaneous annoyance and delight, her uncle took her words very loosely: he didn't kiss her lips and his hands didn't go near the area of her panties, but over the following weeks, when they met in secret in the library, his fingers travelled over every other part of her body.

She deliberately stopped wearing a bra, knowing that the thought that someone might have noticed her nipples under her T-shirt drove him to fury.

As she spread herself comfortably between his thighs with her textbook that they were reading together, satisfaction filled her body as she felt his hard manhood pushing greedily against her buttocks, his hand in some subconscious motion slipping under the material, enclosing itself on her soft, plump breast.

"– you are doing this on purpose –" He breathed out into her ear, rolling his hips back and forth, rubbing his throbbing length against the space between her buttocks, trailing his lips down her long neck, leaving wet, sticky marks on her bare skin. "– you let others look at what is mine – you punish me –"

She sighed, closing her eyes, tilting her head back so that she rested it on his shoulder, showing him grace – she clenched her thighs involuntarily, feeling a wonderful pulsing between them as his lips sank greedily into the hollow of her neck, her hand clamped down on his wrist, encouraging him not to stop.

"– let me look at them – take pity on me –" He exhaled, completely losing interest in reading, kneading the silken, smooth structure of her breast with his fingers as his other hand slid down to her bare thigh, stroking it affectionately.

"– we can't – someone will see us –" She muttered, her breath heavy and deep, her whole body hot and tense from the waves of tickling, overpowering pleasure, his hands, his scent, his closeness driving her mad.

It always ended the same way.

"– there are no cameras here – please – I haven't seen you all week – I've been good, haven't I? – hm? –" He gasped, and she swallowed hard at the thought of what he had done.

He, accompanied by Criston Cole and a handful of trusted men, had carried out attacks on all of the clubs owned by Larys Strong at once, taking over the entirety of his inheritance, depriving his grandfather of half of his trusted associates.

An expression of their displeasure at having nominated Aegon as his successor.

Daemon was shocked by this turn of events, having enemies on two fronts wondering, in fact, whether to respond to her uncle's offer to make a deal.

Aemond could have given Daemon the advantage over Otto that he so needed.

It was probably only the chaos and what was going on around him that made Daemon not ask her why she was going to the library in the middle of the summer, thinking apparently that she was trying to escape from what was going on around her that way.

It was partly true.

She knew that her boyfriend's conciliatory attitude was not because he had suddenly fallen in love with her step-father or brother, but because he wanted her, and she had the power to reward him for being faithful to her and for keeping his promises.

It was a dangerous game and they both knew it.

She sighed and turned in his embrace, sitting down on top of him, pulling her Tshirt over her head without much finesse. Her uncle froze for a moment, staring at the sight before him, his swollen erection beneath her pulsed hard again and again.

She decided to tease him a little and began to rock her hips back and forth, pressing down on what was beneath her, a muffled, low groan came from his throat.

"– fuck –" He mumbled, stroking her naked waist, watching her bare silhouette as if he were staring at something sacred that he held in reverence, for a moment afraid to touch her as he desired.

She rested her hands on his chest as he began to roll his hips, and after a moment he leaned in, sinking his face between her soft breasts.

"– ah –" She sighed, tilting her head back in pleasure, feeling her swollen pussy throb around nothing as his slick tongue ran over her sternum.

Her fingers combed through his short hair as his face moved slightly to the side, blindly searching for her nipple, around which his puffy lips clamped down after a moment, beginning to suck.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled, snuggling his head closer to her chest, involuntarily wanting to feel him harder, closer, deeper, the sweat of exertion and emotion trickling down her bare spine.

His face pressed against her breasts, his lips and tongue sucking and licking her nipples were the furthest form of their intimacy, something lewd and wonderful at the same time, a perpetual torment with no possibility of fulfilment.

"– fuck, let me – please – just this once –" He exhaled wearily, switching from one breast to the other, squeezing it between his fingers, directing her hard, sensitive nipple to his lips, which he clamped around it.

Shivers and waves of delightful tension shook her whole body making her mind all foggy, the space between her thighs all throbbing and moist, ready to welcome him deep inside her.

She rose suddenly from her knees, grabbing the material of her T-shirt, putting it over her head as if nothing had happened, feeling a drop of her own wetness run down her thighs.

"– baby –" He muttered, touching her bare leg, trying to stop her, desperate and thirsty.

"– next week Professor Addams is organising a private excavations two hours away from our town – it's a site in one of the medieval fortresses of our region, very important and he needs volunteers – I've offered to let you come and to count it as your student practices, so that you would have to make up less of them during the academic year – professor will rent rooms for all of us in a hotel nearby – if you come and do your best, I'll let you sleep with me –" She said lightly, looking at him over her shoulder, knowing how ambiguous her words sounded and that was exactly what she meant.

She saw him swallow hard, looking at her with wide eyes, his erection twiched hard in his trousers.

"– do you mean it? –" He mumbled in a trembling voice, as if the very thought made him faint.

"– yes, but it's two weeks – you'd then either have to give up your job, or drive to do your errands at night and come back in the morning –" She explained, taking her backpack in her hand, getting up from the ground.

He stood up with her, grabbing her aggressively around the waist, her body slamming against his.

"– promise me –" He whispered in a trembling voice into her ear, making her leaking pussy clench hard around nothing.

He groaned when, instead of words, her lips found his in a loud, deep kiss that took his breath away. His fingers clenched on her hair, not allowing her to move away, her tongue thrust deep between his teeth with his loud sigh of delight, colliding with his, which she licked invitingly.

She pushed him away and stepped back, trying to calm herself, in his healthy eye a heat and madness she had never seen before in her life.

He was on the verge of fucking her right here and now, ripping off her shorts and panties and slamming into her on the cold library floor.

She wouldn't stand up to him, and her moist cunt would gladly accept him deep inside her.

But he didn't know that.

"– I'll write you all the details later – take it seriously –" She mumbled, having increasing trouble pretending indifference and that she felt nothing for him.

He nodded his head like a small child and she gave him one comforting smile.

"– I love you –" He muttered in a trembling voice, and she felt a twinge in her stomach at his words, her heart filling with heat.

"– I love you too –" She finally confessed with shame, feeling her voice break. He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to cry, his eyebrows arched in pain.

"– I need you – please –"

"– be there –" She mumbled pleadingly and turned away, moving towards the exit, afraid that if she stayed with him a moment longer, she would finally give in to him.

Daemon was not happy with the idea of her leaving for so long.

"– the situation is still tense – someone of my people would have to be there with you –" He said.

"It's an archaeological excavations. I need a change of environment. I've been answering your every call for the last few months. I'm tired. I want to get away from what's going on and earn some money. Drive me there yourself if you're afraid I'm lying. You can call my professor, he will confirm that I have expressed my willingness to go with him again as his assistant. He's a good man. We'll sit in research all day and at night in a hotel."

"In what hotel? I need to know." He said impatiently.

"There is only one small hotel in this village on the main street." She explained, and her father sighed heavily.

"Please. This fortress is an important site. These excavations will count as practices, that way I won't have to do so many of them during the academic year. I haven't even swum in the lake this year, I just want to be alone for a while and do what I really enjoy."

Her stepfather sighed heavily and nodded.

"So be it. But I'll drive you away personally."

The next day she decided to text him to set things up.

Fuck.

She sighed heavily when he didn't write back then or the next day, clearly furious at the thought of having to look at her ex's face, but there was nothing she could do about it.

When Daemon drove her there he personally inspected her hotel room and furrowed his brow when he saw two single beds in it, not one.

"Who are you going to spend the night with?" He asked dryly.

"Certainly with some female friend." She shrugged her shoulders, placing her bags on the floor, feigning indifference.

She found with concern that lying to him was coming more and more easily to her.

He sighed and nodded.

"Report to me every day: text me or your mother in the morning and evening that you are fine. If you don't, I'll come here personally." He said warningly, and she smiled in his direction and nodded, for some reason happy.

She would spend a two weeks with him.

"Okay, Dad."

Daemon liked it when she called him that.

His gaze softened and he left her alone, throwing over his shoulder that she should watch over herself and not do anything stupid.

Too late, she thought with amusement.

She was joyful, and the sight of herself smiling in the mirror seemed unnatural to her.

She was certain that this happy little girl had died a few years ago.

She waited two hours to be sure her step-father is far away and went out into the corridor, looking for her professor. She wanted to inform him that she would be spending the night in a room with her boyfriend, while texting her uncle that Daemon had already left and he could enter the building in peace.

As she had found out from one of the students, their professor was overseeing the setting up of equipment and research tents near the site where they were to carry out the excavation, so that's where she went.

The sight of Robb among several other people she knew well did not fill her with optimism.

Her ex-boyfriend lowered his gaze as she approached their professor, who was just talking to one of the museum workers from the fortress they were about to research. Professor Addams smiled at the sight of her.

"Miss Strong! It is wonderful that you have made it. Will your friend also arrive as planned?" He asked lightly, and Robb looked at them surprised, tense.

"Yes, my boyfriend will be here soon. I also wanted to ask if he could spend the night in my room. We'll both be more comfortable that way." She said without stammering, making her ex-boyfriend turn pale and red all at the same time.

Their professor laughed and nodded.

"It's your room and you're adults after all. Just remember to focus on work, not dating." He said and she smiled involuntarily, casting a defiant glance at the boy she once thought would change her life.

"We will, Professor."

She turned as she heard someone's footsteps and beamed all over as she saw her uncle, clearly terrified and excited, throwing a menacing, displeased look at Robb.

"Speak of the devil. Today we'll just set up the equipment and figure out the details, work will start tomorrow. Everyone is to be here at eight in the morning right after breakfast. Get some shopping done at a nearby supermarket and get a good night's sleep." Their professor said.

She knew that surely the last thing awaiting her that night was sleep.

She was not mistaken – the moment they crossed the threshold of their room her uncle literally threw himself at her.

There was something animal and primal in the way he tore off her clothes, in his gaze black with desire, in his loud, heavy breath as he finally exposed her entire naked body, something he should never see, should never desire, should never have.

And yet.

For a moment he just stared at her, breathing loudly, as if he wanted to remember this moment, her, exposed beneath him – his hand ran slowly over her cheek, along her jawline and neck, sliding down between her breasts to her stomach.

It seemed obvious to her that the time for quiet, slow, tender lovemaking would come later, once the sun had set, once they were both just writhing in each other's embrace, unable to separate.

Now, however, they were hot with desire that burned their skin, and his lips, swollen with lust, after a moment clamped down on her hard, sensitive nipple, sucking on it as greedily as if there was no tomorrow to come.

She moaned loudly, too loudly when his fingers slid down her stomach, deep between her thighs, finding her hot, throbbing, leaking pussy at last, her hands pressing his face to her chest.

"– I hate that son of a bitch – I hate the way he looks at you – as if he's the one who wants to protect you – as if he's the one who knows what you need – bullshit –" He hissed furiously between the licks of his tongue, the tips of his fingers digging into the silky, moist skin of her swollen folds.

She whimpered, spreading her thighs wider, feeling the arousal fill her belly at the thought of how jealous he was of her.

Even when he was with another woman, he dreamt that she was the one lying beneath him.

She could not allow him to doubt the depth of her feelings, to doubt her intention or her fidelity.

"– I don't care about him, uncle – you can kiss me in his presence if that's what you want –" She cooed innocently, looking up at him with her lips parted in deep breaths, his dark gaze clouded and filled with something that sent a shiver through her.

He pulled away from her, as if her words had brought him to an edge from which there was no turning back, his nimble fingers quickly undoing the belt from his trousers and his zipper.

All she could do was, in a natural, simple reflex, spread her thighs even wider in front of him and entwine her legs on his back as he leaned down, sliding the material of his boxers lower, releasing his throbbing, fat erection.

Holding the base of his cock in his hand he guided the thick, pink head of it, leaking from his precum, onto her heat, teasing it, soaking his manhood in her wetness to use it as a lube.

"– may I? –" He asked in a trembling voice, leaning on his elbow right next to her head, and she nodded quickly, not knowing what else she could say.

"– ah –" She gasped along with him, running her fingers through the fabric of his t-shirt on his back as he sank into her with one, slow, sure thrust.

He slid into her with astonishing ease, and her slickness made him start to move inside her immediately, as if the warmth of her clenching walls had awakened some primal instinct in him, ordering him to just take what he wanted.

Nothing more than whimpers and grunts escaped their lips as their hips began to slam against each other with loud clicks of her wetness, his erection so fat and swollen that she barely fit it inside her, his forehead pressed against her.

His scent, his neck into which she snuggled her face as he thrust into her again and again with lewd slaps, his body lying on top of her, all of it was so familiar, so longed for.

"– Aemond –" She breathed out, tilting her head back, enclosing him in the helpless embrace of her body, feeling him with her whole self at last, connecting with him the way she had always wanted to, the bed beneath them creaking loudly.

"– fuck – fuck, baby – I missed you –" He mumbled with difficulty, quickening his pace, with each push rubbing the tip of his erection against the spot inside her from where she could see the stars.

"– I missed you too –" She confessed in shame, listening to the perverted sound of him opening her wide on his cock with wet clicks of her moisture.

He surprised her when he suddenly took her legs in his hands, forcing her to take a new position, putting her knees on his shoulders.

She moaned in shock as he began to move inside her anew with a loud slaps of their hips, feeling a flash of pleasure flow through her body again and again.

Her insides began to squeeze his manhood in delight, pulling high pitched, boyish moans of pleasure from his throat, his lips parted wide, his brow arched as if he was in pain.

"– you're so beautiful – I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you –" He exhaled, no longer sliding out of her, all sticky from her moisture, invading her insides with violent, sharp, quick stabs from which she threw her head back.

"– Aemond, God, yes, yes, yes, here, fuck me here, ah –" She mewled, writhing beneath him in ecstasy, feeling the tension in her lower abdomen and her throbbing pussy about to reach its peak.

He leaned over her, pressing her body against the bed with her own thighs in a position where her calves were at the level of her head.

She clenched her fingers against his back, moaning helplessly as she felt the pressure on her clit from which tears pooled under her eyelids, each successive thrust of his hips sending her body into a state of ecstasy which forced him to close her mouth with his.

"– shhh – shhh, baby, not so loud – mmm – I know – your uncle is close too –" He breathed out into her throat between loud, sticky kisses full of their slick tongues, hearing her squeal of pleasure.

Tears of relief ran down her cheeks red from exertion as her body was shaken by such a powerful orgasm that she just burst out crying.

She heard his loud moans and panting, felt how aggressively his cock pulsed inside her, filling her with his release, how their bodies convulsed as a wave of her moisture flowed out of her, so much that they both drew in air loudly, his face pressed against her hot cheek.

"– 'm sorry –" She muttered embarrassed, not fully understanding what had happened, the wet, large stain under her buttocks made her uncomfortable.

"– it's okay – it's okay, baby – it's okay –" He whispered tenderly, placing loud, sticky kisses on her face.

"– uh – what have you done to me? – we'll have to change the sheets now –" She sighed, combing her fingers through his short hair in an attempt to calm herself, the last waves of pleasant warmth and tickling flowed through her body, putting her in a state of perfect bliss.

She dropped her legs lower, returning to her original position, allowing him to lie between her thighs and she squirmed when he suddenly lifted her by the buttocks and stood up with her.

"– don't worry – we'll just sleep on the other bed – see? –" He hummed, heading with her towards the single bed on the other side, laying down on his back with a sigh of exertion.

She spread herself comfortably on top of him, placing her palm on his shoulder, letting his hands wander over her bare body.

"– can I stay inside you? – you're so warm –" He mumbled like a little boy, and she nodded, dreaming of nothing else.

"– yes –" She whispered, lying with her eyes closed, concentrating on the smell of his perfume and his sweat, his soft manhood still pulsing deep inside her.

She heard him let out a loud breath, something like delight and relief in his words.

"– this is the most beautiful day of my life –"

______

Author notes: You can thank my husband for the last scene, lol. He did things to me.

[jiniretracha]

~ Y/n is a "nerdy but hot" type of girl whos also rlly smart. The bad boy hyunjin has secret eyes for her. Shes always alone in class and doesnt talk to many ppl so basically shes mysterious ooo. One day hyunjin finally asks her to tutor him and she gets surprised knowing he knows she exists. Hyunjin has hooked up w many other girls but y/n is different as shes not despo like them and thats what attracts him to her. They both meet late night at a cafe and y/n is wearing a black tank top which has her neck and chest exposed and her lacy bra straps can be shown as well. She covered herself w a fuzzy jacket before entering the cafe but eventually took it off whilst tutoring hyunjin. Hyunjin feels lusty looking at y/n being so effortlessly hot and unknowing of it, he also gets turned on by the way she sucks her frappe straw etc. But he controls himself and after their study session ends hyunjin offers to drop her home on his bike and somehow enters her apartment as well where she lives alone and cozy with a good view of the city. They both have a deep convo before it turns into hot late night sleepy smut fr (also unexperienced y/n doing things with the guidance of hyunjin) tysmm

A Shakespeare's Sonnet - Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: smut!!, fluff, minho's mean but he's just an overprotective little shit, minsung exes to lovers, slight angst, felix and jeongin being supportive besties

Summary: The one where Hyunjin needs tutoring literature sessions, you are a smart hot student and Minho almost faints.

Word count: 9,3k (i went too far i fear)

PS: This was sent in April, i apologize for being so late ☠️. i've been working on a felix smau so forgive me 😭

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi

Hyunjin walked the halls of uni, his lazy walk attracting countless girls who would squeal under their breaths as they watched him pass across them, hoping silently one of them could end up being another notch on his bedpost. 

Hyunjin would be lying if he said he didn’t notice. Or that he didn’t love it. He was never one to take advantage of it, but having that feeling around him, of being wanted, was awesome. 

His friends also loved the attention people always had projected on him. It meant being invited to frat parties every single weekend, the coach calling them to the football team, and obviously, having girls flutter around them 24/7. 

What wasn’t something that was guaranteed by Hyunjin’s popularity, was having good grades. 

Hyunjin didn’t really study much, but he considered himself a smart person, so overall, he was a pretty good student. 

Until literature happened. 

He was so sure he was going to ace it, until a new professor, Mr. Jackson, came to uni and started giving out homework and assignments that were hard as fuck. 

The boy couldn’t believe his bad luck, as every single assignment he handed in, returned with a very angry red mark in the shape of an F. 

It was a Wednesday, when Hyunjin sat by the last seats of literature class, knowing how it was going to go down. 

“Do you think you passed?” Changbin asked Chan. 

Chan only snorted. “No way, man. I actually read the book he gave us last time, like 3 times, and the fucker still gave me an F” he rolled his eyes. 

Hyunjin sighed. “I think I failed as well”

“Yeah, dude, you’ve been failing all of yours. What’s up? You never go on a streak” Jisung says next to him.

He shrugs. “I guess it’s this fucking dude that apparently has a thing against me”

“Nah, I don’t think so” Changbin said. “I mean, he has a thing against you, but I think it’s against all of us”

“Thank you” Hyunjin said with sarcasm.

“Yo, this friday we’re going to Seungmin’s, okay? He already gave me a preview of the place and it’s going to be big” Jisung said excitedly. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna go” Hyunjin said.

His three friends went silent.

“Excuse me?” Changbin asked. 

“Yeah, I’m failing literature way too hard and without a reason. And, I don’t know about you, guys, but I really want to get my degree. And literature won’t stop me from getting that” He told his friends. 

“But mate, it’s literally one party” Changbin said.

“No, it’s one party every week” he told him. “Maybe that’s why I’m failing. Because I’m not trying hard enough”

“Well, it won't be the same without you there, mate, but it’s your call” Chan smiled slightly.

“Thank you!” Hyunjin said with a high pitched voice. 

Mr. Jackson’s unwanted presence walked into the room and Hyunjin sighed in disdain. He wanted earth to swallow him up already. 

“Okay, class, I’m handing you today your assignments from last class. I am… disappointed to say the least” the professor said and Hyunjin inwardly rolled his eyes. “Only two people passed, and that’s Mr. Lee, and Miss Y/L/N. Congratulations” the man smiled at two students who were in front of him. 

Hyunjin frowned. He had to get the number of either of those people to help him pass this fucking subject. 

“Oh, of course Minho passed. Ugh” Jisung faked a gag.

Hyunjin smiled. “What’s the matter?”

“See that guy over there?” he pointed at a guy with slight orange hair going on black, talking to a girl. “That’s my ex”

“Oh God, that’s your ex! Minho goes here? Since when? How did I not notice?”

“Yeah”

“Fuck…”

Jisung frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“I was going to ask him to tutor me, since I suck” 

“No! No, no, no. You won’t ask Minho to help you. No way. Ask Y/N, his friend” Jisung shook his head. 

Hyunjin frowned. “O…kay” he said slowly. “I will. Y/N… I think I know her. Her hair… sounds familiar”

“Yeah, we went to high school together” Jisung replied.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. “That’s Y/N?” he asked. 

“Yeah” He nodded. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t even know she went here” he said with a confused tone.

“Why do you sound disappointed?”

“I… okay, I used to have a crush on her when we were in like… third year? And, well, apparently she didn’t like me” Hyunjin shook his head.

“You’re lucky I liked you in secondary. You were an ass” 

“Yeah…”

Hyunjin straightened up his position when Mr. Jackson walked towards him and put the paper on his desk. 

“Disappointed in you, Mr. Hwang” Mr. Jackson told him.

When he walked away, Hyunjin turned around. “He always says that” Hyunjin spat. 

Jisung smiled. “I actually got a D this time”

“Yeah, I got an F like always”

Jisung pressed his lips together. “I really think you should consider talking to Y/N to help you” he told him. “She’s a good girl. And she’s super smart”

Hyunjin chewed on his lip. “Okay…”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You put your paper away inside your bag and smiled at your friends. 

“Okay, I am, like, so jealous you guys passed” Jeongin sighed. “I’ve only passed two of his assignments. And this is like the eighth!”

You smiled with a giggle. “It’s only reading and rereading the texts. This one was really tough. I’m lucky I got a C” you said. 

“Yeah, I got a C-” Minho said. 

“Yeah, sorry, why was Jisung staring at us?” Felix asked, nudging his forehead towards him. 

You all turned around and saw Jisung talking to his friend. 

Minho sighed. “I don’t even wanna know, honestly” he shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s still friends with that asshole, my God”

“Who? Hyunjin?” Felix asked.

“Yeah”

“He’s… not that bad” Felix scratched the back of his head sheepishly. 

“Yeah, no. He’s horrible” you sighed. “He was always staring at me with a scowl on his face and being witness of his bully friends back in high school”

“Thank God those fuckers didn’t apply to this one” Jeongin sighed. 

“Yeah. Unfortunately we got the worst. The witnesses” Minho said. “And of course, because the universe couldn’t have conspired enough against me, my ex”

“I still don’t know why you guys broke up” Felix said.

“Yeah, me neither” Jeongin shook his head. 

“I just got tired of the people surrounding him. And the way they influenced him. He was one thing with me and a totally different one when he was with his friends. It was like he was embarrassed of me or something. Like they didn’t know he was gay” Minho explained.

“But they knew” You deadpanned.

“Yeah” Minho nodded. “And cherry on top, he cheated on me”

“He did?” Felix asked.

“Yeah” 

“That’s horrible… well, good riddance, right?” You smiled at him.

Minho forced a smile, “Yeah… good riddance” he chuckled, unsure. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You grabbed your stuff and quickly pushed it inside your bag as soon as the bell rang. 

“See you next week, class. Don’t forget to bring your assignments” Mr. Jackson said and left. 

“Hey, do you want to go to the coffee shop next to our dorms?” Jeongin asked next to you.

“Y-“

“Hey, Y/N” a masculine voice said behind you. 

You frowned as you turned around, only to find none other than Hwang Hyunjin in front of you.

You arched your eyebrows. “Uh, hello?” you said unsure. 

“Can I- Can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked, fidgeting with his hands.

The man was nervous. 

Strange. 

You turned around and looked at your friends. 

“Call us if you need us, Y/N” Felix politely smiled at Hyunjin and winked at you.

“Yeah, you guys go. I’ll catch up” you nodded. 

“Okay…” Minho said unsure, grabbing Jeongin’s arm and pulling him with the rest. 

You turned around and looked at Hyunjin. “…What’s up?” you asked.

“I- I was just wondering… you know, since you’re basically rocking this subject and well- you and Minho are the only ones who passed the last assignment… I was- just… wondering if you could- I don’t know, tutor me or- or something?” he asked. 

You snorted, unable to help yourself. “I didn’t know you knew my name”

“Yeah, I do. We- we went to high school together” he frowned. “Why?”

“Well, you basically ignored me in high school” you shrugged. “Figured we aren’t as cool as your wolf pack over there” you nudged your head towards his friends. 

Jisung smiled and waved, while Chan and Changbin made a peace sign with a nervous smile. 

Hyunjin sighed. “Yeah- well, I was an asshole in high school”

“I know”

Hyunjin inwardly winced. “So… about tutoring…”

You snorted and grabbed your stuff. “Goodbye, Hyunjin” you said and left the classroom.

Hyunjin stood there, watching you walk away while his friends snorted and laughed. 

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen a girl reject you” Chan laughed while Changbin cackled with his infamous laugh. 

“Ha-ha” Hyunjin said humourlessly. “That wasn’t funny”

“Oh, it was” Jisung laughed. “She literally laughed in your face”

“I’m gonna fail literature and never get my degree. I wanna die” he whined dramatically as he plopped down on the chair. 

Changbin rolled his eyes. “Be persistent mate. Come on. You have that charm and effect on people. Use it”

Hyunjin opened his eyes and looked at Changbin. “You say I should- like- follow her around and-“

“Yeah” Changbin nodded. 

“I never beg” Hyunjin shook his head. 

“Well, mate, you gotta push your ego aside if you wanna pass literature” Chan shrugged. 

Hyunjin nodded. “Yeah, I know. The girl hates me though”

“I wouldn’t blame her” Jisung shook his head. 

“Why’s that?” Changbin said. 

“Well, me and Hyunjin were with the popular group. Who were straight up bullies” Jisung explained. 

“You guys bullied Y/N?” Chan asked, his eyes widened. 

“No!” Hyunjin said loudly. “No, we didn’t. I don’t want to talk about high school. It’s been ages. Let’s just… move on”

“Okay…” Chan said unsure. 

“Well, what are you gonna do, Hyunjin?” Changbin asked. 

Hyunjin sighed and looked at the ceiling. “I think I’m gonna continue asking her”

“Yeah, figured” Jisung nodded.

Hyunjin looked at him with a frown. “Why’s that?”

“Well, you couldn’t stop staring at her ass, for all that matters”

“Hey! I’m not attracted to her, and I’m definitely not sleeping with her” Hyunjin whined. 

“Sure” Jisung nodded with a smirk. “So, about Seungmin’s…”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You opened the door of the café and walked inside with a scowl. 

Minho looked up from their usual table and his eyes softened. “What’s up, Y/N?” he asked you. 

You sat down with a huff and left your bag hanging on the back of the chair. “Nothing. This fucker just asked me to tutor him”

“The audacity” Minho rolled his eyes. 

“Why’s that bad?” Felix asked, sipping on his iced tea. 

“Because he’s literally the guy who made my high school life miserable!” you whined. “My life and Minho’s life”

“Oh, well, maybe he’s- you know- changed” Felix tried. 

“Could be. The guy was staring at you like he was terrified” Jeongin said. “It was laughable”

“Maybe because he knows what he did” Minho added. “Typical bully attitude to get what he wants”

“I don’t know. He looked weird, though” You confessed. “Like he was nervous. He was all fidgety and awkward about it”

Felix hummed and looked down at his beverage. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It will be fine”

“Yeah, thank you, guys” You smiled at your friends.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You got us” Jeonging winked, poking your cheek with his finger, making you laugh. 

“I know. That’s why I love you guys” you smiled. 

An hour passed and you and your friends were having fun, as Jeongin was telling you about his date last night. 

“And then she laughs in my face, like- fully in front of me and I feel the stink in her breath. She had ordered ravioli with a cream cheese sauce that was showered with garlic” Jeongin said while you all cackled. 

“Oh my God, and what did you do?” You asked. 

“Nothing, I just contained my breath in and nodded at everything she said” Jeongin said. “Near death experience”

“And do you plan on texting her or something?” Minho asked.

“No, I mean, she was really cute but other than her attempted murder, we did not connect in the talking at all” Jeongin shook his head with a frown. “No way” 

“Okay, let’s all look down or look like we’re in a deep conversation” Minho said, suddenly.

“What?” Felix asked, confused.

“Hyunjin just walked in” Minho replied. 

Your eyes widened and Minho grabbed your arm when you were about to turn your head. “No, no, don’t turn around” he said, in front of you. “Okay, so my mother just died and we’re like- mourning or something”

“Good grief” Felix shook his head, biting on a muffin. 

Hyunjin, as soon as he stepped in, started whipping his head around, trying to look for you. He saw the back of your head while you were engrossed in a conversation with your friends. He took a deep breath in and tried to collect all the courage he could muster and walked towards you.

“Oh, no, he’s coming” Felix whispered.

“Act normal” Jeongin said.

“Hey, Y/N” Hyunjin said standing in front of you.

You looked up and blinked. “Hyunjin, what are you doing here?” 

“Man, my mother just died. Could you have some-”

“Minho!” Felix said, slapping his arm. 

Hyunjin looked at them curiously and you huffed. “Don’t mind them. What’s up?”

“I know you said no already, and you probably don’t like me at all but I seriously need your help” Hyunjin pleaded. “You see, I need to pass literature to get my degree. Please, I’ll literally pay you, whatever you want”

You chuckled and you moved your head to the side. “Hyunjin, are you serious right now? You’ve ignored my existence since we’ve met and now, when you need something, you acknowledge me?” you snort at the end. “Sorry, not happening”

Hyunjin let out a whine and out of literally nowhere, the man dropped to his knees.

“Oh my God” Felix mumbled and looked away.

“Y/N… I’m begging you. Please, please, please. I’ll literally clean your dorm, pay for your food, I’ll buy you whatever you want, just please, please tutor me” he asked, giving you puppy eyes.

You looked into his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Okay…”

“What?” Minho asked, in a high-pitched voice.

“Yeah, what?” Hyunjin asked, surprised as well.

“I’ll tutor you, just please get up. You’re embarrassing me in front of everyone” You said with a grimace.

Hyunjin quickly scrambled to his feet and nodded. “Okay, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Here’s my number” he said, grabbing a pen and scribbling the number into a piece of paper and handing it to you. “Text me. We can meet tomorrow”

“Yeah, okay” you nodded slowly. 

“Thank you, again, Y/N. I really appreciate it a lot. Sorry for bothering” Hyunjin said and quickly walked away.

You looked at him with a frown as he walked out of the café and then turned to look at Minho who was glaring at you. 

“What?” you asked him.

“I’m just gonna ask one simple question. Are you playing stupid? Or were you just born with it?” 

“Oh my God-”

“You just accepted tutoring the devil incarnate, Y/N!” Minho said dramatically.

“Did you see how he was begging on his knees? I don’t want to be as cruel as he was” you argued.

“The guy is the worst, Y/N. Come on” Minho insisted.

“I don’t know, Min. He really needed help” Felix tried. “I think it was sweet of you to give in” 

“Thank you, Lix” you said sincerely. 

“What if he just wants to sleep with you?” Minho asked.

“God, Minho! Hyunjin does not want to sleep with me” you laughed. 

“Yo, why not?” Jeongin asked. “You would make a hot couple”

Minho faked a gag. “Please no”

“You’re into guys, wouldn’t you say he’s hot?” Jeongin asked.

“Yeah, he sure is. But he’s a horrible person so no. I don’t like him” Minho spat, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Okay. Why don’t we all calm down, hm?” Felix asked. “Y/N’s gonna be tutoring Hyunjin and we’re all going to be supportive friends and be there for her if she needs anything”

“Thank you” you mouthed and he winked. 

Minho sighed and looked away. 

“Just trust me. You know I wouldn’t do anything” you told him.

“Y/N, it’s not you I’m worried about. I know you’re not going to do anything. But him? Yeah, I don’t trust him” he said. Felix gave him a look and he let out a breath. “But… I’ll give it the benefit of a doubt”

“Great” Felix clapped. “Everything’s solved. Can we please go back to talking about Jeongin’s horrible date with the garlic breath girl and all?”

“Yeah” you nodded. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You dropped your bag on the chair next to the door of your room and sighed. 

“Wanna order take out?” Minho asked from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, chinese, please” you called out.

“On it!”

You dropped your body on the bed and felt the purring of one of Minho’s cats next to your head. 

“Hey, Dori” you cooed, brushing your fingers across the cat’s soft fur. “You missed me?” you asked and the kitty purred. “Yeah, you did” 

You grabbed your phone from your jean back pocket and the piece of paper with Hyunjin’s number fell out. 

Sighing, you picked it up and after a while of thinking, you added him into your contacts. 

Y/N: hey, it’s y/n

You texted him and left the phone on the bed, to stare at Dori.

The phone vibrated and you grabbed it.

Hyunjin: oh hiii

You frowned. “A hi with three ‘I’s?” you asked yourself in a whisper. 

Hyunjin: what’s up?

“What’s up? God, we’re just gonna be having tutoring sessions. You don’t wanna know how I’ve been” you harshly whispered to yourself.

You: fine. Do you wanna meet tomorrow at the café me and my friends were having a hangout until you interrupted-

You sighed and pressed the delete button. 

You couldn’t send him that.

You: i’m ok. you wanna meet at the same coffee shop tomorrow after english?

Hyunjin: yeah, i’m okay with it.

You: great. 

You left the phone on the bed and went to help Minho while he put on the plates and silverware on the table.

“Everything okay?” Minho asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I was just texting Hyunjin” you told him. “I told him he could meet at the coffee shop from today”

“The one where he rudely interrupted us?”

“Yeah, the same one” you laughed.

He smiled and then looked down. “I’m sorry if I was harsh with you today” he said quietly.

“Oh, don’t worry, Min. I know you’re just looking out for me” 

“I know. I just… we suffered a lot in high school and- well, I don’t wanna go through that again. Neither of us” he shook his head.

“Aww, are you sweet talking to me?” you cooed.

Minho dropped his soft expression and rolled his eyes. “Man, you ruined the moment. I hate you”

“No, you love me” you said and wrapped your arms around him.

“Get off” Minho said.

“You love me” you said louder.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever” he said. 

The bell rang and he looked at the door. “That’s the take out. Be right back” 

“Go ahead. I love you too”

“Shut up”

You giggled as you made your way back to your room and grabbed your phone. Your heartbeat started beating faster when you saw the notification from Hyunjin.

Hyunjin: see you tomorrow, y/n :)

“Fuck, you stupid heart. Stop doing that!” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You sighed as you tapped your nails on the wooden table from the café as you waited for Hyunjin. 

He was 10 minutes late and you were so close to grabbing your stuff and fleeting out of there. 

Suddenly, your eyes caught his figure being followed by a girl who was looking at him with a smile while he had a frown on his face. He said something, making the girl’s smile drop and walk away embarrassed. 

You looked down and felt a weird feeling in your stomach.

Hyunjin, with a sigh, sat down on the booth bench. “Hey, I’m so, so sorry Y/N” he said, sounding tired.

You didn’t even have the heart to say something rude to him because he was late. “No worries” you breathed out. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, uh… no, it’s just this-”

“Girl?”

Hyunijn looked at you, wide-eyed and then let out a laugh. “Yeah, kind of”

“You slept with her and she wants more but you don’t want more?” you asked, feeling that curious, annoying thing on your stomach.

Hyunjin shook his head. “No, she’s uh… my ex-girlfriend” he said.

“Oh…”

“Yeah” he nodded. “We broke up a long while ago but- well, I broke up with her but she didn’t take it well”

“How long ago was that?”

“Four months ago”

“Four?” you asked and he nodded. “Fuck, that’s a long time”

“I know” he sighed. 

You chewed on your lip. “Okay, we can start now. I’m sorry I asked, I just- well, you looked kind of bothered” you said.

“No, it’s okay. Y/N, thank you” he said with a little smile.

Those damn butterflies kicked inside your stomach and you inwardly rolled your eyes. You hummed and looked down at your computer. 

“Right! So, the next assignment is to choose a sonnet from Shakespeare and analyze it. That means we’ll have to search, read some and well, choose the one we like the best” you told him.

“Oh God, I hate this already” he said, pressing his forehead against the table.

You giggled. “It’s not that bad. I collected a bunch for you to pick” 

He pulled his head up quickly and smiled. “Really?” 

“Yeah” you nodded.

“You’re the best” he smiled wider. 

Fuck, that’s a pretty smile- FOCUS. “It’s nothing” you scoffed with a little smile too.

“No, really. It’s a lot. Let me see” he said and you pushed your computer towards him.

As he started scrolling through the different sonnets, his eyes couldn’t help but wander towards your face. You were looking out the window while sipping your pink drink with a sense of tranquility, something that was definitely lacking in his life. Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel his heart hammering in his chest as he admired your pretty face. He paid attention to the way you sucked on the straw of your drink and he bit his lip. 

You were so attractive to him and you had no idea. 

How didn’t you see it? How didn’t you notice him staring at you in high-

“You picked one yet?” you asked him, turning your head to face him.

He blinked a couple of times and nodded. “Y-yeah” he lied. “I picked one” 

“Let me see” you said, grabbing the computer. Your eyes lit up and smiled at him, making him feel a flutter in his chest, something he hadn’t felt till now. “Wow, Sonnet 116. Good choice. You are one romantic guy, never thought of that” 

His eyes narrowed, confusedly and then nodded. “Yeah… I guess you didn’t know that about me, huh?” he joked.

Hyunjin was in fact a very romantic guy himself, he loved cliché stuff and, whenever he painted, he tried to symbolize love as much as he could. He would paint red roses very often, thinking they symbolize an act of love, sensualism and mysticism. Hyunjin loved romantic comedies and he always cried with them.

But that was a secret he kept well hidden.

“Well, this one you picked is very beautiful” you said with a smile and he couldn’t help but reciprocate it. “Let Me Not to The Marriage of True Minds is one of his most famous works” 

Hyunjin immediately took out his computer and started typing whatever you said. 

“We can read it together” you said, pushing the computer so he could see it.  

He nodded and you started reading some lines and explaining them to him.

Hyunjin stared at you attentively and tried to focus, he really did. But his stupid brain and heart had teamed up to sabotage this study session, because they were focused on you. You, you, you. Then, his eyes couldn’t help but go down as he took in what you were wearing. 

Fuck, how did he not notice? You were wearing a black top that had a low cut and it gave a good view of your breasts, as your arms pushed them together due to your inclined position on the table. His mind started racing with different dirty thoughts of what he’d do to you if they weren’t in a crowded café. Hyunjin noticed you were wearing a lace black bra and it made him wanna grab-

“He’s basically saying that true love is not changeable, no matter the length of time” you explained, bringing him back to earth.

Hyunjin quickly typed, trying to convince you he was paying attention. 

“He is so certain about his definition of love that, if proven wrong, then he was sure he had never loved anyone” you finished.

“Wow…” Hyunjin said. “That’s… beautiful”

“I know” you giggled. “Well, we have to, basically, do an analysis of it”

“Okay, how do we start?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

Hyunjin pressed the point button on his laptop and sighed. “Fucking finally” he said.

“It wasn’t that bad, you gotta admit that” you smiled.

He had to admit, he did enjoy literature after all. “Yeah, it was actually interesting. Maybe I should’ve asked you for help a long time ago” he confessed.

“Well, that means you would’ve acknowledged my existence, which you didn’t until… yesterday” you said with a shrug.

That’s a lie, Hyunjin thought. “I… I’m sorry” he said and he mentally slapped himself.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it. Really” you said.

He frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. He was about to open his mouth when you cursed.

“Fuck! Look at the hour, it’s almost eight” you cursed.

Hyunjin looked out the window and noticed how dark it had gotten. “Right, wow. I didn’t even notice” he mumbled as he looked at his phone. 

“Yeah, me neither” you chuckled, putting all your stuff away.

Hyunjin frowned as he didn’t like the fact that this session was over and you’d probably go back to ignoring each other like you did. 

“Hey, uh… do you wanna go back to my place? Like… to hang out” he said.

You arched your eyebrows. “Why?”

“Well, to be honest, I could pay you back with some take out. Whatever you want. My roommate, Chan, is out for the day with his girlfriend so I'm gonna be home alone” Hyunjin explained. 

You leaned your head to the side.  “Are you inviting me because you feel bad for me or because you don’t wanna be alone?” 

None, I just wanna be with you. “Both, I guess?”

You chuckled and looked away. “Hyunjin-”

“Please?” he asked.

You looked at him again and then sighed. “Fine. But we’re ordering chinese”

“Deal” he smiled, satisfied.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

“She did that?” You asked him as soon as you and him walked inside his dorm.

“Yep. And then she basically threatened Lily, my friend’s girlfriend, to stay away from me because she was jealous” Hyunijn explained.

“Oh my God” you mumbled. “That’s borderline obsessive”

“Yeah, I know” he said, dropping his stuff on the couch, “You can drop your stuff  and sit here, I’ll order take out” Hyunjin whipped his phone out and started clicking on the delivery app.

You did the same and noticed there were a few notifications from your group chat with your friends.

<Besties!!>

Min 🐈: hey, you alive bestie? 

Min 🐈: did you kill hyunjin? I’d be delighted if your answer was yes. I’d even help you bury the body

Innie 💛: min shut up

Min 🐈: what?

Lixie☀️: i think you’re overreacting a little

Min 🐈: i think i’m not

You chuckled and quickly typed your answer back.

You: I’m okay, you guys. calm down!! 

You: i’m at his place.

Innie 💛: excuse me?

Lixie☀️: say what?

Min 🐈: oh my god, I think i’m gonna faint

You: shut up. he invited me and ordered chinese as my payment, i happily accepted bc u know i’d never decline chinese 😀

You sighed. You knew Minho would never approve of this, he’d scold the hell out of you. 

Lixie☀️: okay, take care y/n. 

Innie 💛: pls text us if anything happens!

Min 🐈: yeah that

You: i will, thx! love u guys

“Okay, it’s on its way. Want a drink or something?” Hyunjin brought you back to reality and you quickly turned off your phone.

“Oh, uh… what do you have?” you asked him.

“I have wine… coke, water”

“I could have some wine” you smiled.

“Great” he said and took it out from the cupboards. 

You walked towards the kitchen and sat down on the stools, feeling your hands get sweaty from the nervousness you felt. 

“So… did your friends roast me via text?” Hyunjin asked. You pulled your face back and he chuckled. “I know you were texting them. You looked really stressed out explaining this situation to them”

You sighed and looked away. “Yeah, uh… I think it’s not news that they don’t like you” you chuckled humourlessly.

He nodded. “I don’t think you do either” he said. He hoped that was untrue.

“Well. I had my reasons” you said.

Hyunjin frowned. “Had?”

“Yeah, well, I think you weren’t just as bad as I thought” you confessed.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, you did ignore me in high school” you told him. “And you were friends with the people that made my life a living hell, while you stood there, watching”

He was about to say something but the bell rang. “That must be the delivery guy. Be right back”

He walked away from the kitchen and you put your head in your hands. What were you doing?

Hyunjin came back really fast and he placed the food on the plates, wordlessly, while you just stared.

Great, you ruined the whole mood. 

You started eating and the silence was so loud, you wanted to fleet out the door. 

“I didn’t ignore you” Hyunjin suddenly spoke. 

You looked up and gave him a confused look. “What?”

“I didn’t ignore you. In high school, I mean” he repeated himself. “I was just hanging out with the wrong crowd, and I admit that. I just wanted you to know that I did know you who you were. I didn’t know you attended this uni, though” 

You analyzed his words and expressions. He sounded sincere.

“I… it’s funny, actually. I had a huge crush on you” he said in a small voice.

Now, hold up.

“What?” you asked him with a frown.

“Yeah” he laughed. “You were really cute and just my type. But as I said, I hung out with the wrong crowd and it repelled people like you, fairly. And I wanted to be popular, because it was like a dream and it felt like being powerful but then I understood that it was stupid and there’s literally not a day in which I don’t regret hanging out with those people” 

You blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out if this was a figment of your imagination.

“So, I deeply apologize” Hyunjin said in a small voice. 

You nodded. “Okay… I uh… I did not know that” you chuckled nervously.

“No, you didn’t have to,” he said. “Really, I’m sorry, Y/N. If it… helps or whatever, I did want to defend you when they said those things to you and your friends. I was just too afraid to say anything, honestly”

“Afraid they’d do it to you” you said.

“Yeah, basically”

You hummed and licked your lips, deep in thought. “I had a crush on you too back in high school” you suddenly said.

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah” you chuckled. “Even if I hated you, I couldn’t… help it” 

“Wow…”

“I never told anyone about this” you chuckled. “Not even Minho”

“Oh God, he hates me so much” he said, making you laugh.

“Yeah, well, you’re friends with Jisung, so…” you said.

He frowned. “What’s up with him anyways?” 

You looked up in surprise. “Jisung cheated on Minho”

He looked really surprised to hear that. “What?” Hyunjin asked in a high pitched voice. “No, that’s not it. I mean, yeah, he accused him of cheating but Jisung didn’t do that”

“Yeah, well, that’s what Minho told me. Back at prom” you told him.

“Okay, that’s weird because Jisung did not attend prom” he said.

Your eyes widened. “What do you mean he didn’t go to prom? He said he found Jisung kissing other guy” you frowned.

“Yeah, no. Jisung’s grandfather had passed away the day before so he had to travel overnight to his hometown” Hyunjin said.

“Oh wow” you mumbled. “Well, then we’ll have to tell them and maybe…”

“Get them together again?” Hyunjin asked, with a little shrug.

“Yeah” you giggled. “You know, as much as Minho talks about hating him and all… I think he’s never really gotten over Jisung. He still keeps the necklace he gifted him and the collar he made for Soonie” 

“Jisung’s never gotten over him either. He likes to gag at the mention of him but he still has that shirt, you know, the one they shared of-”

“Oh my God, from that Cat Café? The one that says-”

“Cat Café Lovers? Yeah, that one” Hyunjin laughed.

You chuckled and looked away. “Gosh, that was peak cringe from them”

“Yeah”

The chatter continued. You talked about everything and anything. It was like you both needed this talk from a long time ago, and you didn’t know it. 

After eating everything and helping him with the dishes, you looked at the clock and gasped.

“Oh shit, it’s eleven. Fuck” you whispered. “I gotta go, I’m sorry”

“Oh…” Hyunjin said, sounding disappointed. “It’s okay, don’t worry”

He walked you to the door and opened it. He leant against the frame and watched you put your bag on your shoulder and look up at him.

“Thank you for the food… and the talk” you smiled.

“No, thank you. I’ll probably get an A from what we did” he chuckled. “You’re very smart and very kind to help me… even after everything I did”

“It’s alright” you nodded. “And you apologized, so, we’re good”

“Yeah…” he said. “I actually lied” he suddenly blurted.

You frowned. “What… did you lie about?” 

He swallowed nervously and looked down at his feet. “I did like you in high school but… I didn’t stop” 

You pulled your face back in utter shock.

Say what?

“I… seeing you the other day. It made me realize I didn’t stop liking you after all” he chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I thought you were really cute back then but, seeing you now, I see you got even more beautiful and it kills me that I did what I did. And I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable by saying this but- well, I just thought I could tell you because-” he started rambling and you felt a rush of confidence to shut him up.

Shut him up by kissing him. Hard.

Your kiss shocked him but he was quick to grab your waist and pull you against his chest. 

You pulled away and smiled at him. “I like you too, Hyunjin. Even if you suck at literature and stare at my tits the whole time I’m explaining a Shakespeare sonnet to you” you told him against his lips and he blushed. 

“Okay, that’s-”

You giggled and pressed your lips against his once again, making him groan. He pushed you inside his dorm again, closing the door with his foot. Your bag dropped to the floor and he put his hands under your legs, hoisting you up in the air, making you wrap your legs around his waist. 

Hyunjin led you to his room and then laid you down on his bed, all while literally devouring your mouth with his tongue deep, stroking yours. 

He pulled away to kiss your neck and you arched your back, mewling and clawing at his clothed back. 

“Hyunjinnie…” you sighed, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, Y/N” he whispered, biting on your skin. He pulled away and stared at you. “You are so beautiful”

You smiled shyly at him and when he went to kiss your neck again, you stopped him by pulling his hair. 

“What?” he asked, caressing your waist.

“I just uh…”

“You a virgin?” he asked.

“No! No, no. I uh had my fair share of hook ups… but I am not like the most experienced so please-” he silenced you with a kiss, moving his hands under your shirt.

“You-” kiss. “-are perfect-” kiss. “Don’t worry, baby” he whispered and went to kiss you again. 

Hyunjin pressed kisses on your neck down to your stomach, over your shirt until he reached the belt of your jeans. He made quick work of taking off your shoes and your belt. 

You helped him kick your jeans off and he stared at your panties. 

His eyebrow arched, as he looked at your laced black panties. “I wanted to feel sexy” you shrugged innocently. 

He tugged on your legs, making you yelp. “Come here” he growled, kissing your lips as his hands groped your breasts through your shirt. “I’m gonna eat you out until you’re shaking, is that okay?”

You shivered at his tone and his honesty. “I…”

“Has anyone ever done that before?” he asked. You shook your head ‘no’, giving him doe eyes. “What kind of dumb men did you date? Who wouldn’t want to do that?” 

He didn’t even give you time to answer, because he took off your panties quickly and shoved your legs open. 

“Fuck, look at that. You’re so wet, baby” he whispered, smirking at you.

“God, do something, Hyune” you moaned, arching your back.

He chuckled at your desperation and swiped his fingers over your drenched entrance, making you whimper. He dragged those soaked fingers over his tongue and sucked them clean. As soon as he finished, Hyunjin crawled over you and kissed you, inserting his tongue inside your mouth, making your nails dig into his shoulders as you tasted yourself. 

He pulled away and panted as he looked at you. “Do you feel how good you taste?” he asked and didn’t even give you time to answer as he dropped a quick peck on your lips and went down to eat you out. 

Hyunjin’s tongue dragged over your core over and over and all you could do was hold onto the sheets desperately. He inserted his fingers and scissored them as he licked over your sensitive clit in a circle motion. 

Your hands went to his hair and started pulling, making him mewl against your cunt. You pushed his head against your cunt, making his nose press against your clit as his tongue licked over you. 

He had you cum on your tongue two times and then, he pressed a kiss over your pubic bone when he was finished, definitely leaving your legs shaking in pleasure, just like he had promised. He wiped his face with his sleeve and then grabbed the back of his tee, pulling it over his head, letting you admire his toned body.

Your hands immediately brushed over his torso and his abs contracted, feeling the goosebumps run all over his body. He pressed his chest against yours and kissed you again, really soft and sweet. 

“How was that?” he whispered against your lips.

“Fucking mindblowing” you whispered, making him smirk.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, fidgeting with the end of your shirt.

You smirked. “I think you tortured yourself long enough at the café staring at me. Go ahead” you giggle.

He giggled back and pecked your lips and then pressed a kiss to your cleavage. “I couldn’t help it” he murmured and then grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. He stared at your black lacy bra, his hand going under you to grab at the clasp.

You didn’t let him, arching your back at taking it off yourself, exposing your tits to him. 

His hands immediately grabbed them and pushed his face towards them, enveloping one of your nipples inside his mouth and sucking. You arched your back and moaned, gripping his hair tightly with your fingers. He sucked one and then another, then, pushed them together and licked over them.

“Fuck, Hyunjin, I need you to fuck me” you whispered.

“Okay, okay, fuck” he said, giving one of your tits one last suck and then leaned up on his knees, trying to take off his belt as fast as he could. 

You helped him kick off his jeans and saw his erection straining against the fabric of his Calvin Klein’s. It was big already and when he hooked a finger on the hem and pulled them down, your eyes widened. 

His dick slapped against his stomach and his hand went down to stroke himself. 

He knelt on the bed and pushed himself to brace himself over you while looking for a condom. Hyunjin took it out and put it on quickly, and then went back to brush the tip over your entrance, making your nails dig against his forearms. 

One of his big hands gripped your thigh and the other one held his cock to push it inside you. Once he did, you arched your back and he let out a choked moan. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N. And so wet, shit” he whispered against your neck and then he kissed the hot, sweaty skin. 

“Fuck, Hyune” you moaned. 

“Yeah, keep chanting my name like that” he whispered, moving his hips as he hit your cervix over and over. 

You let out a little yelp every time he hit that sweet spot and one of his hands went to one of your breasts, brushing over your nipple and pinching it every now and then.

He licked over your ear and pulled on your earlobe. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” he whispered. “So fucking long, baby” 

You put your leg over his shoulder, making him go deeper and pulling a moan from both of you.

His fingers found your clit, and as he rubbed it in a circle motion, it made you get closer and closer towards your orgasm.

You bit at his neck and moaned. “I think I’m gonna come, Hyune”

“Yeah?” he groaned. “Fucking come, then”

Your cunt gripped him tightly, making him groan and thrust even harder. You arched your back against Hyunjn’s chest and came around his length, feeling your vision go white and like you were about to pass out from the amount of pleasure the man on top of you was making you feel.

You barely noticed how he was losing control, as his thrust became sloppier. With a choked moan, he emptied himself inside the condom, his hands gripping the mattress tightly and then with a sigh, he collapsed on top of you, completely spent and satisfied.

Your arms wrapped around him tightly as he panted against your neck. 

“That was-”

“Amazing, fucking amazing” he whispered against your neck. 

You giggled and combed your fingers through his hair, caressing his scalp. 

Hyunjin lifted his head and smiled at you. “You are so pretty”

“Thank you. You are very pretty, too” you said shyly and he blushed. “You blushing?”

He let his head drop against your chest and mumbled, “Shut up”

“You definitely are” you giggled.

“Shut up!”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

After he let you use your shower (in which he may or may not have sneaked in and ate you out against the tiles), you changed into one of his shirts and wandered around his room. You saw the canvases that laid on the desk and smiled as you saw the amazing drawings and paintings he did.

“Wow… you did this?”  you asked him over your shoulder.

“Yeah” he said shyly, brushing the towel over his wet hair. “They’re not the greatest-”

“They’re not? I think they’re museum-worthy, are you kidding?” you chuckled. “The way you painted that rose, wow” 

He chuckled and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you. “I feel so at peace with you, Y/N” he whispered against your neck.

You smiled and put your hands over his arms. “Me too, Hyunjin” you whispered, kissing his skin. “Me too”

“You have practice tomorrow at the studio right?” he asked. 

“Yeah, we have that super difficult R&B choreo” you sighed. 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Yeah”

Hyunjin started thinking about a little something in silence and then spoke up. “Do you want me to change classes?” 

You frowned and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“So that we can practice together. Maybe that’s the reason I never saw you here. Because we never got to practice together” 

You let out a little laugh. “You’re crazy, Hyune” 

“Yeah, crazy about you” he said and kissed your cheek with a loud kiss sound. 

You giggled and shook your head. “Oh, fine. Change classes”

“Yay” he whispered. “What do you usually wear for practice?” 

“Leggings…”

“Oh, it’s gonna be amazing, I’m so sure of it. I’m gonna have so much fun” he smirked.

“Hyunjin!”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You and Hyunjin woke up with a loud buzzing noise coming from the night stand. 

Hyunjin from behind you groaned and pressed his face harder against your neck. “What’s that, babe?”

“It’s just my phone, hun” you whispered as you grabbed it and looked at the ID of the call. “Hello, Min?”

“Where are you, bitch?”

“Huh?” you asked, surprised at his tone.

“You don’t come home, then you don’t show up at history, and you’re not here at the cafeteria” Minho said.

Your eyes widened and you sat up, looking at the hour. 10:04.

“Shit!” you yelled. “Hyunjin, we overslept!” you yelled, grabbing at his arm and shaking him.

“Hm?” he asked, confused.

“Hyunjin, wake up! We need to get to my dorm to change and then go to the studio! Come on!” you yelled, jumping off the bed and searching for your clothes frantically. “Where the hell did you throw my socks?” 

Hyunjin took his sweet time sitting up on the bed and stretching his muscles. He scratched his eyes and blinked a couple of times. His head turned to the clock on the nightstand and his eyes widened. 

“Holy shit, it’s 10 AM” he said, and jumped off the bed.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” you yelled back as you ran towards the bathroom to brush your teeth in your bra, jeans and only one sock on your feet.

Hyunjin quickly dressed while you brushed your teeth. He combed his hair with his hands quickly and saw you get out of the bathroom, looking around for your shirt.

“What are you searching for?” he asked you.

“My shirt! I don’t know where you threw it. And my socks” you said, looking everywhere.

“Here, use one of mine” Hyunjin tossed you a shirt. “You look better in them” 

You grabbed it and looked at it. “Thank you” you said in a small, shy voice and quickly pulled it over your frame. “My socks” 

“Oh, here” he said. “I found them” he smiled.

“Thanks”

Hyunjin grabbed his stuff and smiled at you again. “Let’s go?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You and Hyunjin ran through the hallways, panting.

“To the right!” you yelled and quickly turned with Hyunjin following suit. 

“There you are!” Minho suddenly appeared in front of you just as you turned the corner, with Felix and Jeongin behind him.

“FUCK! Minho!” you yelled. “You scared me!” 

He was staring at you and Hyunjin with a frown. “Okay… please tell me that you are wearing his shirt because he clumsily dropped wine on it and those marks on your neck are just mosquito bites” he said calmly.

Your eyes widened and quickly slapped your hand over your neck, as you looked at Hyunjin with a glare. He just shrugged.

“I think I’m gonna faint” Minho said, grabbing his heart, dramatically.

Felix rolled his eyes and sighed. “Let’s go, guys. We have practice in two minutes” he said with a smile.

You followed them and Hyunjin did too. “I’m gonna ask my professor to… do what I told you, okay?” he asked, grabbing your shoulder.

“Okay” you nodded. 

Hyunjin pressed a kiss to your lips and walked away the other way. You stared at him and then your eyes darted to your friends who were wide-eyed staring at you. 

“No comments, okay?” 

“Oh, no, you come here and tell everything!” Jeongin giggled excitedly.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

After practice, you sat with your friends at the café, telling them everything.

“It was like I had been wrong about him my whole life” you told them, after you finished. 

“Wow, Y/N, he sounds like he really likes you” Felix smiled.

“He does” you nodded. “Hell, he liked me in high school? I did not expect to hear that” 

“Yeah, no one did” Jeongin shook his head.

You looked at Minho and sighed. “Could you be supportive about this?” you pleaded your friend, pressing your hands together.

“What happened with the I’m not gonna sleep with him, he doesn’t wanna sleep with me thing? You bumped your head against a wall and forgot about it?” Minho asked.

“No, we just had a really good conversation in which he apologized and well… I kissed him” You confessed. 

“Hold up, you kissed him?” Felix asked.

“Yep… oh! I have news about Jisung” you gasped, looking at Minho.

He looked up and his eyes widened. “What? What do you know?” he asked.

You smirked. “It was a misunderstanding, Min” you told him. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Of course he’d defend his friend. I mean, what can you expect from him?” he laughed, humourlessly.

“He told me that he didn’t even attend prom” you told him and Minho pulled his face back.

“What?”

“Uh… a little context please?” Jeongin asked.

“So, basically, Minho saw what he thought was Jisung at prom kissing some other dude. They fought, they broke up, the end. But Hyunjin told me that Jisung did not go to prom, his grandfather had died the night prior and he had to rush to his hometown” you told him.

“Wow…” Felix said. “That’s- Minho, what do you think?”

“I think I need to go” he said and grabbed his stuff quickly. “Uh, sorry. Thank you for telling me, I’ll be right back” 

You three watched as Minho left the cafeteria in a rush and then looked at each other.

“You think they’ll get back together?” Jeongin asked.

“I think so” you smiled. “They aren’t over each other. At all” 

Felix smiled. “I can’t believe he has refused to date anyone this past year because he is still hung up on him” 

“Yep. Their relationship was really intense and they loved each other very much” you smiled. “Hell, he still keeps lots of things from him at the dorm. I just pretend I don’t see them but they’re there” 

“Like what?” Jeongin asked.

“You know that necklace Minho always wears?” you asked.

“Yeah, the one with the cat- No!” Felix suddenly gasped.

“Yeah, that one was a gift from Jisung” you giggled. “And then the collar that Soonie has, is a gift from Jisung as well”

“Oh my God” Jeongin said. “He talks a lot about hating him and now I realize he does not hate him at all”

“No” you chuckled. 

“Okay, I’m having a deja vu” Felix sighed.

You frowned and turned around, finding Hyunjin running towards you. You couldn’t help the smile that ran across your face. “Hey!” 

“Hi, good news!” he smiled and sat down on the empty seat where Minho was. “Where’s Minho?” he asked, realizing he wasn’t there anymore.

You and your friends smirked. “He went to search for the love of his life” Jeongin said, arching his eyebrows.

Hyunjin looked confused and you just chuckled. “I’ll tell you later”

“Okay” he nodded. “They let me change classes” he smiled.

“Really?” you gasped. “That’s great!” 

“You’re practicing with us?” Felix asked.

“Yeah!”

“That’s awesome, man” Jeongin smiled.

Hyunjin smiled. “I know, I’ll get to practice with my pretty girl” he said, smirking at you.

You groaned when you felt your friends starting to poke at your sides and make annoying noises at you. “Stop it!” You groaned.

“Y/N’s in love” they started singing. 

Hyunjin could only chuckle and shake his head. 

He felt his phone buzz and he took it out. He read the message on his phone and frowned.

You noticed his expression. “What’s up, hun?” you asked.

“Why is Jisung texting me: Minho just kissed me?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

Two weeks later…

You and Hyunjin sat next to each other and he fiddled with his hands nervously. You put your hand over his fingers and smiled, with a chuckle. 

“Hyunjin, oh my God, calm down! It’s just an assignment” you told him.

“Yeah, I know” he sighed. “It’s just that I need to pass literature or-”

“You won’t get your degree, you told me already, yeah” you giggled. 

Mr. Jackson came over with the assignments and stared at Hyunjin. He gave him a curious look adn then left the paper on his desk with a sigh. 

“Here’s your work, Mr. Hwang. And yours Miss Y/L/N” he said, dropping yours on your table. 

Hyunjin took a look at the paper and gasped. “I got an A!” 

“Me too” you smiled excitedly. “See? I told you you were going to pass”

“I know, but it’s all thanks to you” he said, grabbing your hand and kissing it a couple of times. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you now”

You looked at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You won’t have to wonder now” you said and giggled. 

Your eyes darted to the couple in front of you and sighed.

“Ever since they got back, they won’t stop making out, it’s disgusting” you said to him.

“Hell, we are clingy and we don’t go making out like that” Hyunjin said.

Minho pulled away and looked at him. “That’s a lie, Hwang. Yesterday, I got scarred for life finding you naked on top of my best friend”

“Yeah, I got traumatized too” Jisung said next to him.

“Hey, the happy couples at the back!” Mr. Jackson called out. 

“Sorry” you all four said in unison. 

You and Hyunjin turned your head to the side and found Chan and Changbin mocking you, pretend-kissing each other while making faces. Hyunjin threatened to throw his pencil case while you laughed at them. Hyunjin looked down at your smiley face and his heart doubled its size. Maybe literature hadn’t been so bad after all.

Thank you, literature. 

[moutainrusing]

pen pals

943 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

On the other side of town, there was a hospital, where children in need of long-term care spent their days and nights. On this side of town, there was a boarding school, where children in need of discipline spent their days and nights.

As an act of further discipline, the Headteacher, Professor McGonagall, had decided that the students of Diagon Academy should write a letter to a patient in Pomfrey’s Hospital, and forge a new friendship, become pen pals for life.

According to Sirius, she was delusional. But he still wrote a letter.

- - -

With his incredibly bony, stick-like, shaking fingers, Remus wrote a letter to someone in the rich, stuffy boarding school, who would apparently become his pen pal for life. (Unlikely.) Firstly, he was Remus. No one wanted to be his friend. Even if they weren’t in their right mind, he was a sick, frail loser, unable to do anything except stutter and sit in awkward silence.

Secondly, the people at Diagon Academy were judgemental snobs. Posh and pretentious and loaded. Why would he befriend that?

- - -

Minerva and Poppy sorted through the letters in companionable chatter, pairing a student with a patient in a match they hoped would lead to a long-lasting friendship.

Once the pairs had been made, the children could keep addressing letters to their pen pal; the school Prefects and hospital wardens would be able to deliver the letters by reading the name on the envelope, ensuring the children got the privacy they needed to open up to each other.

Minerva wanted the slightly troubled (okay, very troubled) students at her school to learn how to care for someone who didn’t live in their narrow-minded world, and Poppy wanted the minorly self-loathing (okay, very self-loathing) patients at her hospital to open up to the possibilities of the world around them. Together, the couple had come up with the idea of pen pals, and together, they wanted this to work so badly.

“I think we’ve found the perfect pair,” Minerva commented as she held Remus’s and Sirius’s letters side-by-side.

Poppy grinned. “I bet those two’ll end up more than friends.”

- - -

Dear pen pal (for life, apparently; I think the nurse may be barmy, but she’s well-intentioned and she’s my favourite and I want it to be known that I am doing this for her. So if I make an embarrassment of myself, it was for her. And I’ll never even get out of this hospital, so I don’t care if you think I’m weird.)

I’m supposed to write about myself. I’m fifteen. I’m a boy. I’ve been sick for as long as I can remember and I look like undercooked pastry. I like reading. There’s not a lot you can do in hospital. But you do get stickers. I’m actually fond of my sticker album. You get a sticker for every injection you take, and when I was younger, I used to get stickers for talking, because I was and am an anti-social freak. I’m really selling this.

Anyway, I’ve organised the pages of my sticker album because I have nothing better to do. There’s a page for leaves from deciduous trees, animals that specifically live in the savanna, fruits which are FRUITS and that includes tomatoes, and a lot of other fully sorted pages. This is my legacy. I might die any day but I still made this impact.

Look, if you’ve read this far, I’ll have to assume you’re as weird as I am.

Yours,

Remus Lupin

Sirius traced over the wobbly penmanship of his pen pal with a grin on his face. Remus was funny. And nice. Those seemed like such simple adjectives, but Sirius meant them to such an intense degree.

He got to writing back about how he was so much weirder than Remus. Although Remus must already know that from Sirius’s introductory letter.

- - -

Dear pen pal,

Minnie, our lovely Headteacher, and my future wife, even though she’s resistant to my charms at the moment (I don’t know why, I’m literally the hottest hunk of meat in this school I’m kidding sorry too soon) (also it may be because she’s gay and so am I) anyway, Minnie came up with the fanciful idea of pen pals. She really hopes this will mean something, and I don’t wanna let her down now, do I?

I mean, I also hope this means something because she has POISONED my brain with these delusional fantasies, and so has my best mate. James really believes this will benefit the country or something from the way he talks.

So, about myself. (It may seem I like talking about myself. I hate it. I’d rather show people who I am.) So, I’m not gonna talk about myself! I’m mysterious like that. Oh-so-interesting.

Like, yesterday, James and I put bouillon cubes into all the shower-heads and the boys ended up smelling like chicken broth (us included). It was fucking GROSS. And fucking awesome. Minnie immediately knew it was us though. My mystery works on everyone but her (another reason we’re soulmates, I should tell her).

LOTS OF LOVE

SIRIUS BLACK, EL AMOR DE TU VIDA

Remus actually snorted. He’d been worried, initially, to see ‘POISONED’ glaring at him in swirling cursive when he cast a cursory glance down the letter, but then he saw ‘THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE’ in Spanish, and found that Sirius was a hyperbolic little shit.

He proceeded to write a letter to tell him exactly that. Oh, and another prank idea, because why not? It wasn’t like he’d be suspected. Maybe he could help Sirius and James with an original idea that couldn’t possibly be pinned on them.

[moralesmilesanhour]

mad props! 05

summary: you learn a couple new things about Miles as you fall into your new study routine. wc: 1.1k start from the beginning prev next a/n: probs won't update regularly if i'm being transparent but i gotta wrap the story up! so expect more in the coming weeks probably. and before you ask no this does not mean i'm returning to writing reader insert i am just finishing what i started bc i feel like i owe it to my audience ! much love <3

The auditorium was empty during lunchtime, which meant that no one was there to spectate as the sound of your voice echoed through the rows of unoccupied seats. You were working on one of the numbers from the second act.

“It’s not up to me…Just let me be…Legally–”

“I knew I’d find you here.”

You sighed, not needing to look up to know who it was.

“Have you come to take me away?” you asked dryly as you descended down the steps and trudged over to where Miles stood in the middle of the aisle with a smug look on his face.

“You can finish your song, if you want.”

You brushed right past him towards the double doors.

“Stop pretending to be nice.”

Essentially being a teacher’s assistant, Miles had elevator privileges that removed the hassle of climbing up five flights of stairs to reach Mr. Sanchez’s classroom, making it the most (and perhaps the only) pleasant part of the experience.

Sanchez was digging into a bowl of salad when the two of you arrived.

“Ah! Buenas tardes,” he greeted hastily through a mouthful of lettuce. “Thank you for being on time.”

You shoved past Miles and rushed over to the professor’s desk.

“I just have to make up for last week’s missing homework and a couple quizzes, right?”

“Well, yes, but there’s also–”

“Can I just do that at home, then? All due respect, but I really don’t need a partner to–”

“Hold on,” he held up a hand to stop you. “You also have some gaps in understanding when it comes to grammatical concepts such as presente and futuro, missing assignments notwithstanding. You’ll go over those with Miles first before making up last Friday’s quiz independently. Comprende?”

You visibly deflated where you stood. To tell the truth, the different tenses were never your strong suit, but you were able to get away with that with flawless vocabulary memorization and verb conjugation (in the present tense, of course). Now? Not so much.

“Comprende,” you groaned before turning away to grab a seat.

Miles had already taken a chair and pulled it up to one of the desks in the front, and was sitting on it backwards with his notebook in front of him.

“Ready, partner?” he said with a wide, mocking grin. He knew you couldn’t tell him to shut up in front of Sanchez.

You rolled your eyes and sat down with a slump.

“Let’s get it over with.”

He opened his notebook and flipped through a few messy pages before landing on a blank sheet. Sloppily ripping it free from its binding, he took out a Sharpie (which he uncapped with his teeth) and began to draw a line down the middle. 

“What are you doing?”

He began writing a series of words down either side of the line.

“Helping you.”

Miles slid the piece of paper towards you.

It was a verb conjugation chart, labeled ‘Past Tense’ in his strange handwriting that made no distinction between upper and lower-case letters.

“I’m gonna give you a sentence, and you repeat it back to me in the past tense. Then we’re gonna do the same thing in futuro.”

You sulked, “How come you don’t have to memorize anything? You said you don’t even study.”

He gave you a blank, ‘are-you-stupid’ look.

“I speak Spanish.”

“No duh, I mean in every other class. You know the whole periodic table front-to-back.”

“Huh? Oh, photographic memory. I only need to read something once,” he tapped his forehead, “then it’s locked in.”

Stunned, you could do nothing but lean back in your chair and slowly shake your head.

“Absolutely ridiculous.”

The rest of that week had you repeating the same song and dance of trudging into Sanchez’s classroom and running drills with Miles and his impromptu conjugation charts. For every wrong answer, Miles made an incredibly irritating sound that was meant to imitate a game show buzzer, which forced you to pay more attention to minimize how often you had to hear it.

You hated to admit it, but at some point you began to retain the tenses with more ease than before and noticed a steady increase in your quiz grades as a result. 

Thursday after school saw you arrive at an empty auditorium, thirty minutes before rehearsal. Any normal student would spend this extra time studying or doing homework, but you had seen enough flashcards and charts to last you a lifetime. Instead, you pulled out your highlighted copy of the sheet music for ‘Chip on My Shoulder’ and began rehearsing as a one-man ensemble.

Your singing today felt more difficult than usual; the lyrics suddenly felt heavy on your tongue, the notes coming out strained and forced. In the middle of a line, the double doors swung open just as your voice cracked.

“Damn, were you lip-syncing this whole time? You sound rough.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course it had to be him.

Miles sounded nearly out-of-breath as he strolled past you, his uniform rumpled shirt and un-tucked, as if he’d just put it on. The band-aid on his forehead was joined by another, more colorful one on his cheek. 

“As if you could do better,” you scoffed as you watched him toss his bag onto an empty chair two seats away from where you sat.

He looked up with a mischievous grin.

“I could.”

“Oh?” You smirked and shoved the sheet music into his face. “Try it, then.”

Miles squinted at it before pushing it away.

“Pfft, this song is lightwork. I don’t need that.”

“Alright, then recite your lines. I’ll start,” you inhaled deeply and held up the lyrics. “ ‘You came out here–’”

“‘To follow a man? Harvard Law was part of that plan? Man, what rich, romantic planet are you from?’”

Startled by his near-perfect pitch, you stuttered, lowering the sheet of paper a bit to give Miles an odd look. 

He continued, “ ‘Instead of lying outside by the pool, you stalk some guy to an Ivy League School’...et cetera.”

You blinked in utter disbelief. Miles’ voice had a tone as clear as a bell, and flawless diction to match. If he had auditioned, he would’ve been a shoe-in.

“...Huh. You sing? Like, actually?”

He shrugged, “I used to lead the choir at church, but not anymore.”

Just as he finished his sentence, Sarah followed by a handful of tech kids began trickling into the auditorium.

“Oh, sweet, you guys are early!” Sarah nodded, making two check marks on her clipboard as her bag hung off of one shoulder. “Miles, d’you wanna help figure out the lighting situation for the show? Josh said you were good with color.”

“Sure, not a problem.”

“You’re amazing, dude. I don’t know how we would’ve gotten those sets done without you.”

“All in a day’s work!”

[malfoyswand]

𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

summary: your best friend, draco malfoy, plans a surprise to ask you to the yule ball.

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff

warnings: none, just soft draco :)

author's note: thank you to the lovely reader who requested this, it's my first request so i really hope i did this justice! also yes, i got a little inspired by that one gilmore girls episode with the 1000 flowers for the proposal lol

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"Mate, I think you're overthinking this."

Blaise Zabini reported his opinion of the matter, but Draco Malfoy barely comprehended a word he had spoken. The only things on his mind were (Y/N) and of course, the bloody Yule Ball.

If he was honest with himself, Draco was at least partially excited for the dance. He knew it was meant to be one of the greatest nights he may ever experience while at Hogwarts, but he wasn't sure if he would. The dance was only a week away and somehow, Draco found himself without a date.

If anything, the Yule Ball was making him nervous.

"I'm not, Zabini!" He spoke quite loudly, then softened his voice as he realized students had looked their way. "This needs to be perfect, alright? This is (Y/N) we're talking about, you know how I feel about her."

Blaise couldn't help but sigh, with a smile on his lips as the two of them walked to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It was quite a feat for Malfoy to tell Blaise that he had romantic feelings for his best friend, (Y/N). Blaise knew that Draco dreaded being seen as anything but tough to the world, the fact that a girl had this much control over his emotions spoke volumes. 

"Exactly my point, Malfoy. She's been your best friend since first year, I doubt she would ever be disappointed or angry with whatever you come up with. Besides, she's just a girl. Just ask her to the ball like how you would ask a girl out on a date."

"Er.. well.." Draco began to speak, the hand that wasn't holding his books scratching the back of his neck. The two of them finally stopped walking besides the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Blaise's eyes widening as he tried to hide his laughter.

"You're telling me that Draco Malfoy has never been on a date before? Merlin!" His laughter echoed down the chamber, earning him a scoff and a playful shove inside the classroom by Draco. "Sorry, sorry. I just thought that with every other girl in this school begging to be your date to the dance, you would've taken at least one of them on a date." His voice was spoken quietly, careful that the other students wouldn't hear their conversation.

Draco shook his head as the two of them sat down in their seats, pulling out their books and parchment. "No. I've turned them all down. They're just not her, know what I mean?"

"You're down bad, mate." Blaise smirked slightly to himself, whispering the only advice he could really offer his friend. "Listen, girls like being asked out in a personal way. You know the kind of things (Y/N) likes, all you have to do is make it special and she'll be swooning."

"Right." Draco mumbled to himself as Professor Moody began to teach his lesson. However, he certainly wasn't thinking about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Instead, Draco glanced over to where you sat across the room. He knew you better than anyone, yet he had no idea how to ask you to the Yule Ball.

That was when the idea struck him. The new bag you bought last week caught his eyes, he noticed the way the bag had intricate floral designs sewn into it. A memory replayed in Draco's mind. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he wrote on a spare piece of parchment, folding it into a paper crane before sending it your way.

Your hands caught the paper crane, grinning as you knew exactly who it was from. You tried to ignore the way your heart seemed to skip a beat each time you saw one fly towards you. On the piece of parchment, it read:

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tomorrow morning before breakfast? - D.M.

You lifted his gaze to meet his awaiting gray eyes, your head nodding before turning back to the professor's lesson. Draco did the same, but his mind was already running through a mental checklist on all the supplies he had to get to make his idea come to life.

The next morning, you woke up wondering why in Godric's name you decided to meet up with Draco this early in the morning. The sun was just starting to rise outside the window, and none of your other roommates were even awake. You groaned as quietly as you could, practically tiptoeing around the dorm bedroom to avoid waking everyone else.

As you brushed your hair in the girls' lavatory, you felt the butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter around again. You cursed yourself under your breath as you tried your best to focus on your breathing.

Lately, being near Draco Malfoy has always made you more excited than you really ought to be. Of course, he was your best friend so you had always been excited. But now, even one glance at him caused a warmth to glow within your chest. The feeling was a foreign one.

As you walked through the castle towards the Astronomy Tower, that warm feeling in your chest arose again as you caught sight of him. He was pacing near the entrance door, mumbling as if he was rehearsing something. You cleared your throat as you walked towards him, Draco stopping in his tracks.

"(Y/N)." He spoke your name, his lips forming into a soft smile. "Thanks for meeting up with me, I know it's a bit early for you." His tone was playful, he knew you were not much of a morning person. 

"About that, why so early in the morning, Malfoy?" You gently shoved his shoulder, he only laughed in response. He opened the Astronomy Tower door entrance, his hand indicating for you to step inside first. 

"You will see."

You walked up the long set of stairs up the tower. You couldn't see the fact that Draco was a nervous wreck behind you, his hands having to wipe themselves on his slacks to remove the sweat from his palms. As much as you hated to wake up this early in the morning, you knew the views up from the tower would be gorgeous. Draco knew that the Astronomy Tower was, quite honestly, your favorite place to admire the landscape.

“Oh my..” Your body stopped in its tracks once the two of you reached the highest level of the tower. Your eyes couldn’t take in your surroundings fast enough it seemed.

It was as if every surface of the tower was covered in red roses. Somehow, someone must have placed hundreds of roses in vases, scattering them around almost every corner of the room. The light shining into the tower only amplified their beauty, it was as if each petal seemed to come alive as the sun continued to rise.

“D-Did you know these flowers were here?” You stuttered as you started to pace around the room slowly, your fingertips grazing upon almost every petal there was. Their beauty took your breath away.

“I did.” Draco bit his bottom slightly as he watched you, desperate to know your reaction. He couldn’t tell if you liked or hated them. “They’re for you, actually.”

Your eyes darted from the roses you were admiring to Draco, your body facing his. Although you were truly flattered, the idea of him doing all of this for you made your head spin with so many questions. You knew Draco Malfoy better than he may ever know himself, you had never seen him do anything this nice or extravagant for anyone before. 

“You said a couple of weeks ago that you wish spring would come along so you can watch the flowers bloom again. Of course, it’s only December, as we can all see.” Draco answered your question, a slight chuckle falling from his lips as he pointed outside of the tower. More snowflakes began to fall, covering the castle with even more snow.

“So, I thought to bring the flowers to you. And I only assumed you liked roses, from your bag.” His eyes went from watching the snowflakes outside to your bag that was decorated with tiny red roses around it. Since when did Draco notice something so mundane, like a new tote bag?

“I just.. don’t know what to say.” Your voice came out as a whisper. Him decorating the entire Astronomy Tower with roses, just because you said you missed the spring and summer flowers, was entirely insane. You couldn’t come up with the words, so all you could do was step forward to hug him tightly.

Within an instant, you felt Draco’s arms wrap around your waist, his head resting in the crook of your neck. He closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself out of relief and joy. He was relieved and happy that you had liked the surprise, but he knew what he must do, even though it terrified him.

“That’s not the end of the surprise.” He said as he slowly pulled away from the hug. All of a sudden, it was as the boy became aware of every heightened emotion he was feeling. “But I must do this properly..”

Your eyebrows raised as you watched him turn around, picking up one of the red roses from their vases. If you weren’t convinced you were dreaming at the moment, you would have sworn you saw a small bit of sweat on Draco’s forehead as he looked towards you.

“I-er..” He took a step forward towards you, any closer and your bodies would have made contact. With a deep breath to calm himself, he handed the rose to you. “Would you want to go to the Yule Ball with me, as more than just a friend?”

Your lips slightly parted as you took the rose from him. You had slowly been falling for your best friend for the past four years, but you had convinced yourself that the Slytherin Prince would never fall for you. For four years, you had thought that he would never settle for you, when every other girl in this school begged for him just to look their way.

Once you realized you had failed to give an answer, you closed your mouth and smiled in his direction. “I would love to, Draco.” You responded, stepping forward once more to close the gap between you two. You pressed your lips softly to his cheek.

When you pulled away, you realized that Draco’s cheeks were slightly pink as his eyes widened. You couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the sight. Draco Malfoy was notorious for being the calm, collected one of the two of you. Seeing him as, essentially, a nervous wreck over you caused that warmth to be felt in your chest again.

“Who would have thought I could make Draco Malfoy this nervous?” You joked, attempting to calm his apparent nerves.

“Who said I was nervous?” He scoffed just as playfully, grabbing a few more roses to hand to you. You took them in your hands, smelling their pleasant aroma as you followed him back down the staircase.

“Malfoy, you were just as red as these roses.”

[iznsfw]

Drunken

Loossemble's Son Hyeju x Male Reader Smut

19,012 words

Categories | cheating, longtimecrush!Hyeju, mutual feelings, drunk sex, daddy kink (and daddy issues), fingering, squirting, titfucking, anal, choking

Thank you for commissioning! Researched for the fic, ended up falling in love with Son Hyeju. Please give this a chance and read this for the story, too, and not only the smut. I indulged too much in this.

The relationship Hyeju and OC have is very much inspired by the one Cassy and Rob have in In the Woods by Tana French. Read it, please. Was amazing. The story was also written with someone I'm currently so in love with in mind, but we're not going to talk about that here.

And no, there's never enough daddy kink stories :P

“This is not fair,” the two of you say the very second you step into your shared dorm.

Two papers in two hands of two people that show two scores that aren’t up to par for the two’s standards. You and Hyeju were always meant to be a dynamic duo: peas in a pod in every way possible, and that includes academic success and failure. It’s like there’s a kind of telepathic force between you that sends the other down with you, too. It’s too late to try and cut the connection when you’ve known Hyeju all your life, a wish that’s beyond reality for plenty of the boys at Idalso.

The dorm is clean. Mostly. You’ve done your best to tidy up the pile of clothes at the end of Hyeju’s bunk bed and she’s done the same for the relatively empty bags of chips you haven’t stopped the habit of laying around, but there’s still the telltale signs that if Hyeju isn’t organized, you aren’t either. Printed drafts of your thesis lay crumpled on the floor. Her posters are minutes away from falling off the poorly painted walls. The air-conditioner doesn’t work as well as it did in your freshman year when your rowdiness outdoors—knocking into each other, trying to race to the door and ending up messing up the other’s clothes that were ironed in a rush—isn’t as compensating.

Today, the rowdiness is lost. It gets translated into rough groans that follow you on the way to the dorms.

That’s when you realize it.

You and Hyeju look at each other. Both of your pairs of eyes widen.

“Miss Ha failed your test?” she asks, normally bored pupils widening in disbelief.

“Miss Ha failed my test.”

“No erasure rule?”

“No erasure rule.”

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god.”

Ball up the paper and shoot it in the air. It adds to the numerous pieces of parchment on the floor. You kick the rest of them in the air while your roommate slumps on her bed and groans. 

“Fuck this,” you say, hands on your head. There comes the urge to tear all your hair out and leave it at that damned professor’s door, blood and all, to make her at least feel a miniscule bit of remorse for failing you. You didn’t deserve that. You studied and studied and she still had to implement that stupid rule.

Hyeju catches a wrinkled and crumpled paper globe. Her sui generis lips release a soft sigh. “At least we have thesis confetti,” she says sullenly.

“I’m dropping out,” you declare. You’re surprised at how serious you sound. Normally you’d say it just to get a laugh out of yourself, but now you’re actually considering doing it. 

“If you drop out, I’m dropping out, too,” she answers, looking at you spitefully. “And then who’s going to take care of Daniel?”

Think of Daniel. He isn’t your roommate but he’s gotten close with you and Hyeju the past few years. “His inheritance is what’s gonna take care of him. Did you forget he’s rich as shit?”

“Oh, right. How could I forget about him?” 

You start picking up the papers of your drafts faster and knocking them harder into the wall. Why are you doing that? Nope, don’t have an answer to that. There’s a fiery rage inside you that Hyeju’s latest sentence is the arsonist of. 

“The fuck are you doing?” she asks in amusement. There’s a hint of disgust on her face. “Calm down. What’re you, my dad or something?”

“S-sorry.” You know the whole deal she has with her dad. You have to stop—thus, drop the balls of papyrus from your hand. “It was just… I don’t know why I did that.”

Maybe you do. Can’t be about the test though it’s why you started throwing a thesis tantrum.

“Chill out, dude.” She pats your shoulder and gives you a pouty look. “If you want to play strict dad with me: no, I don’t like Daniel. If I did, I would have sat on his lap and said,” she assumes a high voice and flutters her eyelashes at you, leaning on your side, “‘Let me help you with that, darling. I’ll do the dishes, too! Or maybe you want to put a baby in me while I squeeze the soap on your di—’”

“Stoooop!” 

Throw a pillow at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at you. Oh yeah. How could you forget that she plays dodgeball with the friend who’s taken up the topic of your conversation? 

Oh god, shouldn’t have reminded yourself that Hyeju and your other friend hang out. You’re feeling weird again.

“Earth to daddy, Earth to daddy,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Li’l shit, what’s gotten into you?”

You’re feeling something again. It creeps into your heart and tugs at its strings, just like how your roommate loves to tie knots in yours and watch you struggle around trying to walk with them. That’s how it felt when she called you that. It’s not the first time she took on a roleplaying banter with you yet that specific title has you hot. 

You need to take a walk. Take a walk to somewhere that doesn’t have you in a place where you could easily pin Son fucking Hyeju to the wall and kiss her till the heat subsides.

-

Walking is your only exercise. You care not for the gyms and weights—why pressure yourself with those when you could just go for a simple walk? An hour is already sufficient enough to burn the breakfast. Only downside is that you get quite hungry afterwards, and though you don’t care for counting calories either, you’re pretty sure the food you have after your strolls is more than the amount you burned.

Actually, you could think of another downside: Hyeju doesn’t join you. She’s a homebody. A couch potato. A living pillow. She prefers to lounge at the dorm and play games instead of going out. She rarely comes along, which is why you’re guaranteed a few hours of isolation.

When you take into consideration that it isn’t isolation if tentative feelings accompany you, you’re partly glad Hyeju didn’t come along.

“Hey, is that you?”

You smile. There he is. You always pass by the apartments this time, and the old man who owns it is one of the few people you’re fond of. Being friends with a landlord wasn’t on your college bingo card, but you’re glad it happened. He’s kind, has white hair that almost matches the color of the spaces he owns, and a mouth that can simultaneously be like that of a sailor’s and a doting grandfather.

“Hi, mister Kim.”

“Hi there yourself,” he chirps. His smile is bright. Can’t say the same about the flickering bulb back in your dorm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Red colors your cheeks. “Hyeju’s not my girlfriend.”

“Never said she was.” He winks.

The explosion of scarlet first starts at your ears. He got you. But it isn’t exactly you to blame—everyone likes to push you and your girl best friend together. The old man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to toy around with you. 

“Mister Kim, don’t be like that,” you say. Scratch the back of your neck.

“I’ll be however the hell I want,” he replies, crossing his arms t in a friendly stance. “You two’re always glued to each other.”

“We’re just friends, sir.”

“Just friends my ass. Whenever that girl visits me, she’s always talking about you. It’s like you’re the only thing on her mind.”

That revelation was so out of nowhere, yet you welcome it. You like knowing that Hyeju, the girl you adore, adores you just as much. It’s the mutual feeling of fondness that keeps you breathing. 

“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” you say humbly. You’re somewhat right—just because Hyeju hides the truth that she drones on about you doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. You’ve seen and met her exes, and even back then they’re miles more charming than you.

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m broke—”

“No, no. Not in that way.” He shakes his head. “If you and Hyeju actually end up together, I’m letting you live in one of my apartments for free.”

“Mister Kim—”

“Think about it for your old man, will you?”

With that, he shows you a knowing smile and turns his back. Nothing more is said.

-

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Anyone and everyone says the opposite. They treat you and her like famed characters on a popular teen show, pairing you up with each other and tearing off all hesitancy about thinking that they might be going too far. 

But now you’re here to make a stand against those falsehoods: contrary to popular belief, Son Hyeju isn’t the love of your life, and although you’ve been friends for so long people’d expect you walked into kindergarten class with your hand in hers, it’s completely platonic between the two of you.

There are no feelings. No speck of a disgusting yearning in your hearts despite the late night stroll you had to take to stop your wistful thoughts. No sir. Hyeju doesn’t love you that way, and neither do you. It’s simple.

Doesn’t seem that simple when you wake up in the dorm with what’s supposed to be a groan that folds itself back down your throat when you see her curled up in the other bed, blankets splayed and curled around her. No makeup on, except for lip balm she smears around her triangle-shaped mouth when they get chapped. No care for how she looks in the air (doesn’t matter when that’s the way you like it, the way she likes it). She lies there with slumber that could only be induced by an unmerciful college.

You’re glad you have her while you’re battered by the same cause of her sleep.

You try to be silent but her eyes open anyway. Her eyes are squinted, and she kind of looks like an emoticon as she pers around. She doesn’t know when or where she is. Grin because neither do you sometimes, but now that you hold that knowledge, you share it with her.

“Earth to Hyeju, Earth to Hyeju.” Echo her words from last night and resound them back to her.

“Earth?” she groans. “Wake me up when Idalso sends me to Mars.”

Yeah, that’s the Hyeju you know. The Hyeju you love. 

(Huh? Where did that come from?)

“I’ll go with you. Could use miss Jeong not trying to kill me.”

Hyeju runs a hand through her hair groggily and smiles sweetly. “Maybe she should come along and go through with killing you if you don’t stop ‘forgetting’ to pay me that five thousand.”

“Cute. I’ll pay you later, I promise.” Rise to sling the blinds up, letting light five-thirty a.m. sun spill through the squares. “Catch some breakfast at McDonald’s before class?” you offer. She’s your usual companion in the morning—you’d split the bill (because “you’re broke, and I’m broke,” she said, “it’s only fair we try to stop being poor together”) and have a nice opening meal of egg and chicken nuggets.

“Sweetie, it’s Saturday today,” she reminds you. “Don’t you remember?” She looks up from her phone and smiles at you condescendingly, as if she knew how that friendly nickname causes your system to shut down. 

You try not to show it. Try not to make it obvious that you turned your head to hide the fact that you were flustered. The fact that despite being only friends with her your chest still tightens at her casual pet names for you, like what she called you last night as well. It’s what friends do: joke with each other, call them unflattering names one second then sweet ones the next. The dorm has enough fans to keep the air circulated, and the sweat you broke last night is gone. So if that’s that, why do you feel so warm right now?

You wonder if Hyeju also feels the same heat in her stomach when you say, “Grandpa can’t remember things well anymore, darling. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“Wow, okay. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

It’s lucky that it’s still dark enough for your red ears to be invisible. You hate it when you mess up your laid-back persona in front of Hyeju, the one you put up whenever you engage in these playful arguments. “Look,” you say, “do you want to get McDonald’s or not?”

“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t. Too lazy.”

Your heart sinks. “Fine, I’ll just go to a café then. Still have that thesis to do.”

Hyeju lays back into the bed and shuts her eyes. She’s learned that when there’s a chance to sleep, she should take it. To you, it doesn’t look like she’ll let go of this one, even if rejecting it means eating together with you. 

You put on a coat and some shoes, then turn away. Fine, let her be like that. What did you even expect? You can’t be her only priority in life. Sleep, of course, and rest should come first, especially if you’re a college student. You have to brush the hurt creeping in your heart and do your own thing, just like you’d let her do hers.

Don’t catch her eyes opening and lingering on you. Your back is turned and therefore doesn’t let you see it. But if only you did, you wouldn’t have been doubtful about your future concerns, all related to her.

-

This is a different story though. This isn’t a love story—if anything, it’s how a love story ends.

-

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Yes, it bears repeating. Sometimes you need to say it again to convince yourself. Convince yourself that you’re not constantly in lectures wishing that it was her beside you instead of your groupmate. Convince yourself that your soul doesn’t shatter in pieces when she refuses to join you in anything. 

Maybe you just need someone to talk it out with. Yes, that’s right. The whimsical yearning in your heart isn’t for Hyeju. You swear on it.

Oh, but you’ve never been very good at that.

“What’s going on? I came as quick as I could,” says Daniel. Yeah, that’s his name. It’s a common name that sounds foreign and unique, especially since he’s a transfer student who came from the U.S.. He has pale skin and brown eyes that are as kind as he is. You like him—he’s the only one you bother bearing besides Hyeju.

But this isn’t about her. You need to let go of her. What? “Let go of her”? Why do you think about her like you two were actually a thing?

“Nothing. Just… feelings.”

“Something happened?” He sits down and looks around confusedly. “Wait, where’s Hyeju?”

“That’s the thing,” you say as you smile tightly. “She’s what happened.”

Daniel’s not stupid. And even if we say that he was, he’s been your friend for two years. It’s short in comparison to your time with Hyeju, you know, but it remains impressive. You don’t have that many friends besides them. That, of course, eventually led to Hyeju and Daniel becoming friends with each other. That’s the reason for him catching your drift—he knows you like the back of his hand.

You order the third cheapest option on the list: an iced latte. Your friend opts for a croissant and some tea, something that reminds you that he isn’t actually from Korea. You often forget that when his Korean is more fluent than a native’s and he gels with other people so quickly. He’s an easy-going guy with everything flowing well for him.

“Let me guess: she did something?” he asks. Alright, close enough. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the table while yours do so on your laptop keyboard.

“Yeah.” Shake your head immediately and contradictingly. What are you saying? “No. Yeah, probably. But I think it’s my fault.”

No, it isn’t a mere probability of it being your fault. It is your fault. Why are you placing expectations on Hyeju to show up for you? It isn’t on her that you get hurt when she doesn’t have the time or willpower to come along with you. So, why are you even bothering to talk about this? You should let this matter slide. Brush it under the carpet. Rewrite the news headlines. Whatever.

“Ah, couple’s quarrels,” Daniel says teasingly. He thanks the waiter for his croissant then takes a healthy bite into it. “Out of the honeymoon phase already?”

Should you be delighted that people think that she’s yours and you’re hers? You’re split between these two emotions—choose to be frustrated instead.

“Why does everybody think that we’re a couple?” 

“Well.” Your friend twirls his teaspoon into the dainty cup. Drill your eyes on it. The café is simple and affordable to eat from, but the furniture and aesthetic make you think of it as a fancier place to eat it. “You’re always together.”

“That’s all?”

“Let me finish. When some guy has the balls to ask her out, she says she has a boyfriend. She shows him your profile and number. She goes, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.’”

The latte somehow doesn’t finish its journey through the straw. “She does?”

You’re split between two thoughts to go by again. You should be happy that your friend, a friend who’s a girl moreover (never confuse a friend who’s a girl with a girlfriend—ever), feels safe enough with you to refer to you as someone who’d protect her, whether from creeps or the aggressive dogs that patrol your college grounds. It takes real trust to call a guy who’s a friend (again, avoid the confusion) your boyfriend when the time requires it. This means she trusts you to come to her if she needs saving from an odd guy or an escape out of situations.

But at the same time, you wonder if that’s what you really are to her, what you’ll only ever be to her: a fake boyfriend. The guy friend who doesn’t mind being called a boyfriend because he knows his low place in her heart. Does Hyeju even look at you as someone who’s not just an acquaintance?

“Yeah,” Daniel says matter-of-factly. “She really likes having you around.”

You don’t need to think about it when you reply, softly: “I do, too.”

The two of you sit in silence you don’t know the source of. Daniel stops eating suddenly. Similarly, all the appetite is lost and you have to put your plastic cup of latte down before you throw it at the wall and ruin the dining experience for everyone else. No, this is your problem. You should deal with it before dragging anyone into it.

“So, why did you call me? What is it about Hyeju?”

Ah, what are you thinking? Daniel shouldn’t even be here. Why did you even call him over? You did and now you don’t know why you suddenly want to throw the contents of your plastic cup into his face. If you give in, you’d be feeding into the delusion that he’s the one standing between you and Hyeju. 

That only leads to the second question of the day:

Why do you suddenly hate Daniel? Daniel is a nice guy. He doesn’t even make a move on her or disrespect her. 

You don’t like these feelings. It’s causing you to think all sorts of nonsense about everybody else, not excluding Daniel, who hasn’t done anything wrong. 

“I…” Sigh. This is the second time you’re finding an escape route so that you could be alone with your feelings. “I have to think about it. I need some time alone.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry about that.”

Hate how more guilt washes over your heart. See here, he doesn’t even protest or say something that might even be right, like tell you how you called him to come over in the first place or how there isn’t a good reason why he should leave. He simply wraps his croissant with a plastic he asked for at the counter and leaves, tea and all.

Great. Now you’re alone, like you usually are and always will be. Attempt to use it as a pro and work on your thesis. Type it all down on a Word document. Wait patiently, as you learned to, as your old laptop stops for the suffering you’ve caused it with the extra storage taken up by assignments. Contact your groupmates. Remind them to do their jobs.

It’s all going so well. That’s when she pulls up to the cafe you’ve been writing at with her hands perched on the wooden surface of your table, with the smirk that doesn’t ever leave without making sure it’s her certified look featured on her lips.

No need to mention names when there's only one girl who could make your world stop spinning.

You can’t stop staring, and it’s not even because she turned up out of nowhere. You’re always in a state of shock when Hyeju is around.

She never allows her hair to be restrained in a tight tail, so there she is with those luscious black locks spilling all over her shoulders. How she manages to look so cool and be the very person everyone wishes to be while having those soft cheeks only the evillest of people wouldn’t pinch you don’t know. Son Hyeju is cool and cute at the same time, somehow balancing those everyday without effort.

But you don’t love her. Just to remind everyone once again. No matter what happens, you have no feelings for her. And that’s that.

"Hey," she says, putting her weight on one arm. Then she curves down her head to peer at your screen. "Whatchu doin'?"

Immediately slam your laptop shut and look at her with annoyed eyes. Oh, why do you even try? You could never despise her. You could pray to god all night and day for you to hate Hyeju, to hate her to the ends of the Earth just to banish these strange feelings, and he wouldn't give in. Crazier and crazier her antics shall get and you'd remain loyal to her.

And that's all because she's a good friend. That's everything there is to it. 

Wait. Who are you convincing again?

"Oh, come on. Smile a little, pretty boy." Hyeju places a finger on one edge of your mouth then pulls it upwards. "There you go. Suh-miiile—"

Pretty boy. She called me a pretty boy.

"You p-plan on getting off the table or what?" you say.

People are staring at you and Hyeju but that isn't what's making you blush. What's gotten into you? You can't tell yourself it's because of her simply because it isn't because of her. Hyeju has as much effect on you as a cup of coffee.

(You thrive off caffeine, by the way, but that's not the point.)

"Sure. No. Uh… probably?" She looks up at the ceiling as if she's figuring something out, then clicks her tongue when she does. "Yep, nah."

Groan. 

Secretly, confessed only in the deepest corners of your mind, you like people paying attention to you and Hyeju. It’s not much about the attention itself but the way it makes them think that the two of you must be really close. Like, really really close. The kind that makes those who want Hyeju rush to her only to be met in the face with a barrier: you. They can’t have her because you do.

Not in that way, of course, but it still means something. If she has you, nobody else could, and if you have her, more so.

"Son Hyeju,” you say, fighting back the smile on your face as she ruffles your hair, “I swear to god—"

"Oh, please," says Hyeju, leaning forward with narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, "spare me, oppa. Spare me the blasphemy—"

That's enough from her, you think. Your hands dive for her waist. Pull her down onto your lap. Your thighs soften the blow and also play the role of a launch pad as one kick sends Hyeju in the air. More chances to tickle her come along with it. Okay, that bit about the lap was wholly unintentional, and you'll swear to god again for that. 

What isn't unintended though is the tickling you do on Hyeju's midriff and arms. It helps that she's so sensitive—soon she's laughing boisterously, struggling in your lap with her head upturned and triangle-shaped mouth letting out unkempt guffaws. She nearly kicks the two of you out of the café seat.

"Dude, you are such a loser, stop!" she laughs, still winding around like a screw on top of you. Laughs alternate between each syllable. "P-people are looking, fffucking quit—"

When that beautiful gummy smile breaks on her face, you don't want to. People can look as much as they like and you wouldn't give a damn. Tickling is Hyeju's punishment, and you'll do it to her anywhere to teach her a lesson.

"Ha, haha, I'm sorry, okay!"

"That's my girl." 

You’re not hurt anymore. For a few delicious minutes, you’ll forget you were ever pondering if you like her or not.

Stop completely because you’re easy to convince like that All she needed was that one magic word. Place her on the chair beside you and fold her hands on her lap as if she were a misbehaving child. 

"Now behave yourself."

Hyeju rolls her eyes. "And if I don't?" she challenges you. 

You raise your fingers in a curled position and direct them threateningly centimeters away from her ticklish spots. She gives up. She can't find a punishment worse than that.

"Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come," you say, taking the liberty to open your laptop again. The screen directs you to your assignment tab after you type in your password. Sigh; still five thousand words to go. 

"I'm here because I've got nowhere else to be," she answers. She practices her own liberty, too, and sips shamelessly at your iced beverage.

Her eyes light up at the taste. "I got bored being alone in the dorm."

You think of her alone, and your heart immediately sinks. Maybe you should have stayed there. You’re her roommate—you’re there for her to have company. Sure, the roommates were paired up randomly, but it must lead to something now that you and Hyeju have met again. It was by pure chance that she reunited with you after years of being apart. There’s a string drawing you together, and you don’t know what it means. 

You do know that the reunion with your childhood best friend and seeing how she’s grown made your heart flutter. You act all mean when you’re around her, which is confusing when you’ve missed her so much.

"And I needed somewhere else to finish this thesis before miss Wong realizes it was due three weeks ago." Glare pointedly at her. Here you go again. Told you so. "Somewhere that's not occupied by a brat."

It's true. Call it what you will: an insult, a pointless accusation, but what you said rings true even in your childhood best friend's defiant mind. She could be a handful often.

"I am not a brat," she says, offended. She knows the truth and chooses to deny it. Typical. You should have seen that coming when she’s the girl who lies about the extra dishes in the sink not being her fault and her turn with the laundry.

Sigh. Act as the lawyer; you’re studying to be one anyway. It’s best to practice. "Remember when you cut up the slogan on the mayo label then taped it on me? I had 'white creamy filling; taste me!' on my back for the whole day!" 

"It was a big-ass sticker for a mayonnaise, okay? I couldn't stop myself." Hyeju admits this with hands raised in defeat. "But what about that time you shoved a Toblerone in my mouth while I was sleeping then took a photo of me?"

Raise your hands, too. You realize there's no way to weigh in the blame on a single person when you and Hyeju brought the brat out of each other. It's impossible to go by a day that isn't filled by at least one prank and joking quarrels.

Still, you find it fun. Hyeju's so easy to bond with, so easy to love. 

Whoa, where did that suddenly get here? Like you said, you love Hyeju, but only as a friend. 

So you do love her, in a way. Huh. 

That realization settles in and suddenly you're rendered frozen at the table. Your hands that ought to be finishing your schoolwork are frozen in mid-air. You're staring at the screen like you were watching a gory movie instead of trying to tick off your to-do list. 

"You okay?" she asks, one-of-a-kind lips sealed around the paper straw. "You kind of, like, went to another dimension for a bit."

How do you tell her you’re considering the fact that you might actually like her? You’ve known her for years. Something’s inevitably going to bloom inside you for her, right?

"Y-yeah. I'm good." Not. “And stop drinking my coffee.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you just did the thesis early. What’s so hard about it anyway?” Hyeju stands then bends over to glance at your laptop.

You don’t realize how short her dress is. It rides up to the centers of her thighs and you don’t know how to prevent anyone from seeing something forbidden without brushing down the hem of her dress. If you went down that road, you’d have to run your hand along her back and ass—you’d look like a pervert. 

Idiot. Think of something. Something that isn’t how you’d love to see more when you're just like everyone and shouldn't be allowed more eye access to her body. Only you know how many times Hyeju’s body came up in your mind when you were alone. Paired up with that attractive face that held a permanent pout, it’s impossible not to think of anything else. 

“Ugh! You are so dumb, you know that, oppa?” To your horror, Hyeju sits down neatly on your lap. She has her hands quickly frisking on your keyboard. “There’s a comma missing here, and a citation over here… oh, and a—”

“Save some for the rest of us!” a man about your age and height yells jokingly, cheering you on with a raise of his mug of hot coffee.

Both you and Hyeju look at him with confusion written all over your faces. Your words of surprise almost sync and match with the other for you realize your hands are on her hips, and Hyeju’s leaning back so comfortably in you that anyone would have thought it was another case of couple’s PDA. They’d be wrong though. She’s not your girlfriend. She can’t be your girlfriend.

So why is she so comfortable on top of you, as if she’s always been there? Why did your hands naturally rest on the beautiful slopes of her hips and pull her down the moment she stooped?

The guy’s grandmother smiles adoringly. “Young love,” she says with a dreamy tinge to her aged voice. "What wouldn't I give to experience that again."

You and Hyeju meet each other’s gazes and suddenly you’re unattached to each other. She guiltily settles on her chair and you take your hands off her. That was wrong. Why were the two of you so comfortable with being so touchy? Best friends don’t do that. At least, not best friends of the opposite sex. 

“I should go,” she stammers, standing up. “Call me i-if you need help, oppa.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Where did she go? Why did you lose her so fast?

-

Hyeju’s always called you oppa one way or another, but that moment left a particular jar in your heart. It shards the depths of the core and renders you speechless. You didn’t know that the person you’d love to hear that title the most from is your best friend. She’s supposed to call you that when she’s younger, but even if she weren’t, you’d still love to hear her call you that.

There’s a sense of fulfillment in being able to be Hyeju’s oppa. The one she always relies on. The one she sticks to through whatever happens. That’s why now that she’s told you to call her if you need help makes you ache. It’s the things that are seemingly so simple as that that send more yearning inside you.

The question is: what exactly are you yearning for? Who are you yearning for?

You think you know the answer. It’d take guts to admit it, to finally come clean. But what’s there to come clean about? You don’t love Hyeju. 

A ding from your phone just now. You’re nearly finished with the thesis, and it’s lucky that way since it’s from Hyeju. God knows she has ways of distracting you. Her clean moves at the dance she led and her chill yet stern voice when she commands a rowdy classroom steer you away from what you should be doing, like get away from her. Avoid her at all costs. Never tell her what you’re feeling because it’ll only end up badly for everyone involved. You don’t want to hurt Hyeju, and still you remain hopeful to not get yourself hurt, too.

It takes several seconds for courage to tie you down and pick up the phone. It’s a series of texts from her.

HyejU_U: hey

Sooooooooo

I’m sorry for what happened earlier. 

I didn’t really think and thought that you'd be fine with it

cause yknow

You pulled me down

and

We’re friends.

right?

Yeah, we’re friends, you think bitterly. And no matter how touchy you get, Son Hyeju, it’s all we’ll ever be to you.

HyejU_U: can we just move forward from it? If you want to ofc

Do you? Graduation is near and it’s still taken plenty of years of your life to get over Hyeju. Do you go forward and start on a new slate with her, or dwell in places you shouldn’t be?

Your fingers linger on the keyboard, then—

You: Sure.

Sorry, too

if i like

Made you feel uncomfortable

Wasnt my intention, i promise

HyejU_U: oh you didnt make me feel uncomfy at all.

So don’t worry <3

What a relief.

HyejU_U: i should be the one apologizing anyway

I thought it would be nice to be on you since ur arms feel good around me

Cock a brow. A giddy smile itches at the ends of your lips. Stifle it you will, though she can’t see you through her screen.

HyejU_U: sorry again

i just wanted to see if what i thought was true

Anyways. 

yeah, sorry.

You: so we’re good?

HyejU_U: we have a deal, dickface

;)

See, this is the thing you’re afraid to lose with Hyeju: the carefreeness of your little friendly touches and hugs, insults that take it just far enough, everything. If you told her how you felt (keep in mind that you might not actually like her romantically; you’re just thinking that you might), you’d lose your relationship with her—the one that formed before the two of you even knew what romance was. The one that’s kept the reunion as natural as could be without the need for awkwardness.

You’re so glad to have her back. As a student you’ve nearly cried knowing you passed a semester and worked night and day to finish a difficult assignment—none of those feelings can match the one of relief you felt when Hyeju told you everything was good on both ends. 

But for now, you’ve gotta try to put a dent into this thesis. You’re almost done, you swear. You’ve just been stalling—not intentionally. You swear on that, too. Your whole afternoon’s been swamped up in thoughts about her plus the thoughts about if you’re too perverted a man to be with her. There are a lot of questions left by you immediately responding to Hyeju choosing to sit on your lap. A lot of which are left unanswered.

Priorities. Sigh a little; there’s still work to be done, yet worrying about your best friend is on top of the list. You really should find a hobby when you’re already dragging your teammates behind. Plus, there’s the capstone to worry about that you haven’t prepared for even in the most miniscule bit. So there really shouldn’t be an explanation for why thinking about what she thinks of you is your number one priority. Why, you have plenty of other things to worry about.

You just can’t get her off your mind. These days it’s impossible to.

Abstain anyway, the best you can, from thinking about her and finally complete the thesis. It’s lengthy, well-edited, and has the perfect format to finally make you a lawyer. Attorney doesn’t sound too bad when it’s added to the front of your name.

You should celebrate, actually. The moment you think of it, Daniel suddenly messages you. He’s saying something about it being a Saturday, so you should go to the bar with him. You’re a social drinker, anyway. You could go there without going overboard. Addictions and vices form in these years of fresh adulthood, but you’ve never found yourself wound up in something.

So you do. They ask for your IDs and let you in after a short study of the cards. The guard gives you a lengthy lecture about not being alcoholics as young as you are, but welcomes you anyway.

If we’re talking about getting yourself wound up in someone, though…

“Dude,” Daniel says. He motions his glass to someone coming from the door. “Hyeju.”

You already know he’s rich, but what teacher did he pay to study him into mind-reading? “I wasn’t thinking about her,” you tell him defensively.

“No, I mean, she’s here.” He stares at said woman walking over to the bar with swaying hips. “How the fuck did she get here?”

Hyeju’s here? Swallow. Quick. What do you say? Where exactly in the bar is she right now? Why is she here? When did she get here? Why the fuck are you talking like a news reporter? 

“Hullo, boys.” She stops your train of thought and makes sure to dedicate all of them to her with her hands set on the table and a pretty crop top attached to the curves on her perfect body. You wonder where she got that dress. If she thrifted it, it isn’t obvious—her body does good work in making it look like couture.

“Hi, Hyeju.” Daniel acknowledges her with a nod. He’s a friend of yours and hers, just to remind everyone. He wouldn’t take another step with Hyeju, but you still have yourself staring daggers into his stubbled beard that lines his face and how he takes life as he would a game. There’s a reason why you’re the least tipsy among the two of you. He likes a challenge.

“Hi,” you say meekly. Hope your voice doesn’t sound twisted when your stomach suddenly is. Oh, and it’s not because of Hyeju. It’s the alcohol, pinky promise with a finger heart after. Alcohol’s never made your stomach turn this way though. 

Hyeju regards the shotglasses. “You went drinking without me?” 

“What does it look like?” Daniel asks, giving her the finger. It’s just the usual friendly argument that doesn’t cross lines or anything. The ones that you and Hyeju have. Why do you feel like punching him in the face?

Luckily, she doesn’t have a fragile heart. “Cute. Keep it that way.” She rolls her eyes then turns to you. “Oh, and you. I thought you liked having me around.”

“I’m sorry.” Ask the bartender for another shot then hand it to her. “I guess we just thought you were busy with training.”

She’s training to become an idol. It’s been her dream since she was a kid, when you played in the slides and dropped from monkey bars. She’s always told you she was going to be big someday, and you never doubted that for a second. She even had a name she planned to use if she were to be a performer: Olivia Hye. You weren’t gonna lie, it had a nice ring to it. Not too bad for a name she made up after skimming through a baby name book from the bookstore.

“I dropped out,” she says simply, downing the shot like water.

“What?” you and Daniel ask together. Both of your voices sync with the shock, too. Neither of you could get why she did that. It’s been Hyeju’s dream to become an idol for so long. She couldn’t give that up just like that, but she did.

“Yep.” There’s pride in her voice. “The whole thing was a shithole. I already have Idalso to deal with. I’m not gonna put up with that, fuck no.”

Your heart aches for her dream. Idalso University really is blocking her from achieving it. She could be out there on the stage, maybe having found a better agency, singing and dancing her heart out. Instead, she has to choose one problem at the time and hence goes with college. She has her own parents to please, and because you have yours, you get it. You truly do.

As for Hyeju getting a problem off her mind, like that terrible agency, your spirits lift. You raise a glass and clink it with hers. 

“To getting the hell out of this shithole,” you say; look at the girl you’ve lived for and loved with a smile, “and Son fucking Hyeju for doing it again.”

Your glasses meet. You’re somehow happy that it’s only two, yours and hers, that join. You can’t explain it for the life of you, but you like seeing Daniel become like a background character to it all. Just another extra in Hyeju’s show and yours. It’s cruel, especially when he’s been nothing but a good friend, but it is what it is.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says. “Let’s go to a noraebang tomorrow.”

She’s contemplative. “Isn’t the one near Idalso… like, expensive?” 

“So what?” He shrugs. “You did it, Hyeju. You got out of that company thing. I’m done with my capstone and so is he with his thesis. I say we all have some fun. On me.”

Daniel has the privilege of not worrying about things being expensive or not. It’s the norm for him. You kind of want him to play Dorothy and put himself in your shoes, then make him go through what you did. 

You know it isn’t fair and he’s just being kind. Still and all, your hatred rises.

“What now?” Daniel asks. “You guys in!”

“Of course!” Hyeju nods and claps her hands together. There’s a gummy smile on her face again. You’ve seen it on her many times, but you’ve also seen the sunset everyday—therefore, you’ll still be glad to catch a glimpse of it.

You guess since she’s in, you have to go, too. You say yes and that of course you’d love to go, and this time three glasses clink together prettily. Smiles are on each of your faces albeit yours is artificial.

"Could you act any less like a deadbeat dad?" Hyeju asks. She sits down on the stool beside you after Daniel leaves to get some air. Still feels like he's here when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you and her.

"I'm not doing anything." You say that because you aren't. You definitely aren't stirring a brew of jealousy inside you that poisons the maker, too. You're its creator yet the prophecy that was written tells that it'll turn against you, too. You’re Kronos, and it's an inevitable fate. 

"Exactly. That's what deadbeat means." This matter-of-fact statement from her is followed by Hyeju stealing your shotglass out of your hand right before you drink it. "Seriously, dude. What's up with you?"

Oh, you don't know. Maybe her possibly being your crush? It's such an immature matter, but you haven't had a crush like this. The others were just sweet-faced and from afar. Those are the girls you dream of. To have a girl like Hyeju, the one you've known since forever, with a spunky personality but an opposing pretty face, the one who's been your ride-or-die—it's complicated.

What else could you say to her when the truth is something you'd rather she not hear?

"I'm fine, Hye."

"Are you? You look…" She thinks about it for a while as she studies your hair and poorly combined outfit choices. She slicks your blunt strands back and smiles teasingly. "...sleazy."

"Fuck y—"

"Shhh." She places a finger on your lips. The side of her thigh touches your lap. You're so close that any word you utter won't pass without hitting her. "It's okay. I like it."

You purse your lips. You didn't expect that. She's taken seats on your lap that were uninitiated by you and let you lift her in the air when you hug her. All that and her fingers in your hair are the most surprising.

"You're drunk," you say, although she’s only had a few shots. 

Hyeju inches closer to you and holds your chin in place. "I'm sober as the next wolf, sweetie," she tells you. Her next words fail to show her hesitance. "And… and it just so happens that I really, really want to kiss you."

She's joking. She's playing around with your heart. You're not a virgin—you know what girls do. Hyeju doesn't strike you as the type to do that in spite of what’s going on, but you have to be careful. Your heart’s been bruised too many times already. 

Careful isn't the word for it when you take the first step and lean in for a kiss. Maybe you're drunk yourself. Dizziness enchants your mind as Hyeju's dreamy lips perfectly pout to the shape of your mouth. Her eyes are closed. It's like she's in a restful dream.

You can’t believe you’re doing it. You’re kissing her. Passionately, too—there’s real determination in the way you hungrily lean forward to devour her lips. 

The bar oohs and ahhs, then erupts into a crowd of applause. A few whistles come your way. You can feel Hyeju smile into your mouth.

-

Proclivities upon proclivities to keep her around you and only you couldn’t stop Monday from coming. You’ve only been to a noraebang once and that was with your family. It excites you to go to one again. However, you’d rather have only Hyeju to come, to be the exclusive member of the club that gets to hear her soft, pretty voice echo in the mic.

She’s really doing a number on you. Daniel’s your friend—sure, he might be out of touch with the local games and experiences, yet he’s still important to you. You can’t be mad at him over a girl who probably doesn’t even think the kiss at the bar was anything special. She hasn’t even talked about it with you and acts like it didn’t happen. Just another boy, just another day. That’s probably how you are to her.

Ouch. Way to go hurting yourself with your own made-up scenarios. As expected from you. 

The three of you decide to cut classes. It’s not like you’re in high school anymore. Professors just don’t give a fuck, unless it’s miss Wong. She’s pretty and quiet at first. Then you have to wait to see her get angry—that’s when all hell breaks loose.

No hell on the loose today. Just three little demons from hell called Hyeju, Daniel and yourself down on the loose and down the road to the noraebang. Hyeju’s in a loose black jacket and a plain white tee. You somehow notice that more than Daniel who’s sporting a graphic shirt with swear words from every language printed on it. You don’t have much to say about your attire when it’s nothing special, not even compared to Hyeju, who’s wearing simple clothes like you.

“If a teacher sees us out here—” says Daniel nervously. He’s never rebelled before. The most he’s done is missing a class. 

“No one will,” Hyeju promises him, opening the door of the place for the two of you though in your opinion it should be the other way around: you opening the door for her. What better way to show Hyeju that you could be a gentleman? Too late now. Plus, she doesn’t care much for that. That’s what keeps your excitement on a low burn. It takes more than opening a door and waiting around to impress Hyeju. 

You sign your names at the front. Daniel picks a nice, wide room with a glass table perfect for chips and bottles. The bright screen already shows snippets of K-pop music videos, involving sweet-faced Korean girls waving at the camera and running along a beach. As boyish Hyeju is compared to other girls, you could definitely see her doing that for her passion of becoming an idol. 

“What should we sing?” asks Hyeju, sitting down on the black plush seats comfortably. Her gummy smile is precious.

“Anything you want.” He slings an arm around her. His looped arm tugs her into a warm embrace. “Anything for the soon-to-be lawyer slash K-pop idol.”

Stiffen. Turn away and suddenly take good interest in the walls with a carved 3D effect. Much more interesting than whatever Daniel’s trying to pull on your best friend. Right, Hyeju’s your best friend. Nothing more. That kiss was a drunken mistake. You shouldn’t be getting angry. Besides, this noraebang was rented for you to have fun, not glower at Daniel doing nothing but be a good friend.

Hyeju laughs and leans into him gladly. “Stop, you’re gonna make me throw up!”

You feel out of place all of a sudden. Has she always been that affectionate with him? You thought that those touches and hugs were reserved for you only. Apparently not.

“Sing a song, Hye.” Your eyes don’t meet her gaze.

“They wanted me to debut with this song,” she says. The mic is shaky in her hand. “I—” She blushes. “I want to sing it for you.”

Sweetness infiltrates the air. It’s not of a scent or touch, but of hearing. It's Hyeju’s voice. It's smooth and soft as it passes through the empty atmosphere. No instrumental accompanies her voice, and you’re glad it’s that way. It allows you to marvel at Hyeju’s tone, quiet in spite of its sexiness.

And it takes that and several songs later, sung daringly by all of your trio, and jokes passed among friends that make you think about it. Really think about it. While Daniel and she sing their hearts out to the point of their voices cracking and laughs transforming into guffaws, you sit there and submerge yourself in thought.

You’ve seen Hyeju smile. It's pretty and sweet; her triangle-shaped mouth curls up into a half moon and it's everything you've ever wished for in life. No, fuck food. Fuck oxygen. All you need is her smile. It's cheesy as hell when you page through those types of quotes in those teenage romance books you probably shouldn't even be holding, but you swear that if Hyeju smiles for the rest of her life, it's enough for you to live. She just looks so pretty. Her resting bitch face, stone cold as the title of the expression suggests, is hot (yes, you're using that word), but when she chooses to smile—oh, you're as good as dead.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve heard her sing in the noraebang room with her soft voice filling the vicinity. She doesn't sing much although she could. The day would come when she’d say "you know, I almost became an idol. I trained then dipped halfway,” and the pitched raspiness of her voice still would send you to heaven. It's a natural and beautiful thing, a trait she couldn't learn from the best vocal coach.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve felt her hair when she leaned into your lap after laughing too much. "Stop, or I swear to god I will fuck your shit up," she told you, slapping your thigh after your terrible dad joke. You ran your fingers through her hair to calm her, but if anything it's an excuse to just touch her. You want to touch Hyeju, and not even in a sexual way. You just want your bodies closed up on each other with no awkwardness barriering the freedom to hold and be held.

And it’s not the kiss, but all these that make you stop your denial, and discover that you—

“—think I like Hye,” you whisper to Daniel when said girl leaves to get some beer. The flashing disco lights hanging from the ceiling can’t camouflage the red on your face. 

Daniel laughs and puts down the mic. The bump on the crafted table sends a tinged pitch of feedback to your ears. “Everyone likes her. So?”

He’s right. Everyone likes Hyeju. Yeah, they like her through every name she’s taken up. She was the star of the school back in middle school when she went as Hyejoo, then the ice princess of high school as Olivia Hye, and finally… as herself now that she’s grown up with you, Son Hyeju. She’s become so many versions of herself and yet people still like the real her. You still know the real her.

“No,” is what you say, as you twiddle your fingers. You don’t know how to say this without causing an uproar. “I like Hyeju.”

He considers this for a moment, weighing in your words. “Like as in… like like?”

A nervous swallow. Is Daniel the right person to tell this ? “Like like,” you reply nevertheless.

Daniel locks his chin between his rough fingers and strokes it thoughtfully. His face is clouded with a feeling you can’t read. “Well, a lot of people do, too. And they wouldn’t blame you for it. She’s—” He looks down at his shoes then back at the noraebang screen. “She’s a pretty girl.”

The understatement of the century. Hyeju’s face was carved with such beauty—curved, pyramid lips; slanted eyes; a cold look that you, unlike people when asked about their first impression of her, weren’t scared of—and she’s just so… easy to love. 

Yes, Son Hyeju is easy to love. Everyone loves her, but she can only ever reciprocate it in a different way to one man. Woman, perhaps? Anything goes, but you'd rather she gives it to you.

You're a selfish person, you admit that. More so when it comes to her. 

"Let's get this party started!" she says. You don't intend to flinch yet you end up doing it anyway when she sits down next to you and hands you canned alcohol. 

"There's only three of us, Hye," Daniel points out. The rounded metal springs up from the can and he gulps down a hefty amount of the spiked liquid.

"Three's a crowd. Especially when it's with you guys."

"So you're saying we're too much?" Match her sass with hidden bits of your own. You're only trying to make it seem like your heart doesn't beg to be held close to hers. 

"Too much is just enough for me." 

Hyeju drops both of her arms around you and your other friend and ruffles your hair. It's sweet. It should be. It’s exactly that which makes you fail to understand why your heart feels squeezed. Why is she also hugging Daniel in the same manner she hugs you?

The kiss at the bar means nothing. The kiss at the bar means nothing. You have to stop thinking that it means there's a ring on your finger already. 

You rise from the sofa to purchase chips because you’re starving, but not for healthy food. You wouldn’t dream of eating a salad when there’s junk food in your general vicinity, and it just so happens that there’s a vending machine you’ve got your eye on at the counter. Soon, a rainbow of plastic bags fills your arms. What they contain would work well to repay your debt with Hyeju. Daniel can eat these without worrying about money. He’s been a good friend. He deserves chips after the evil you’ve thought about him.

"I bought chips—"

Daniel is pushing Hyeju to the end of the sofa and has his lips locked on hers. His hands are in her hair. Her eyes are shut. You can hear the sloppy sounds of kissing bouncing off the noraebang walls. The instrumental from the radio is the cherry on top of everything.

Does this kiss guarantee a ring? 

"Wow," you say. Nod then laugh, as if doing it would make your situation better. “Wow.”

Hyeju turns her head and scrambles for broken dignity. It's too late. You've already seen it. Daniel doesn't even bother running after you when she bursts out of the room to chase you. You're immovable—each step is a promise to take you far away. You trust that promise to skewer you away from Son Hyeju, Son fucking Hyeju who led you on and played with your heart.

"Hey.” Her steps catch up with yours. Walk faster, but she only draws closer. You can’t escape from her now. “Hey!”

"What?" Turn to her, heavy breathing lining your shoulders. You stare into her small face and silently dare her to make an excuse.

To your surprise and her audacity, she does. "It's not what it looks like!" she says, swallowing. How could she be the one near tears when she's the one who kissed him? "Let me explain—"

"I know what I saw."

"Well, you don't see the bigger picture. He sm—"

"—smart? Funny? Rich?" Laugh and shake your head. Your laughs sound more and more genuine. You've gone a little sick in the head. "Yeah, I know. But hey, we're not supposed to be anything, right? Why am I mad? It's not like our kiss meant anything."

"Please, oppa. Listen to me."

"No, go sing together,” you say, then thrust the junk food you bought in her arms. “I’m sure you’re better off with him.”

Mean it. Turn away. Don't bother to look at her when you know she'll go crawling back to Daniel. He's totally her type. He's everything, you're nothing. He's smart, you're not. He loves her more, and you do—just not enough. Now you understand why they were so touchy and close in the room.

Anger is irrational when it was just a kiss. The two of you weren't official, either. If you weren't before, you sure as hell aren't now. It's just not meant to be. 

She likes Daniel, not you. And even though you want to be, you aren't supposed to be angry at Hyeju. She was swept into a high school love triangle that happened a little later in her life, and ultimately chose the better guy. No need to drop names. The kiss was enough for you to know which man she chose.

Besides, you don't love Son Hyeju anyway. Isn't that what you've always told yourself? That's right. You don't love her.

Denial is a river flowing down your cheek.

-

The dorm becomes a cemetery of the living dead. You and Hyeju have not spoken to each other for three months. She stops waking you up for class, and you do the same. The place is notably cleaner after the two of you rely only on yourself to tidy up. Lost are the sarcasm, friendly touches, teasing arguments. It’s like the two of you never knew each other.

It’s through this that you discover that you have to be careful what you wish for. You always thought about Daniel putting himself in your place, and it happened. Ever since the kiss, Hyeju’s been chattier with him, and he pulls her close the way you used to, and she smiles at him like she used to at you, except that it’s wider now. They’re together. Officially together; you’ve seen their Instagram posts. 

Moreover, she’s happier than ever, flourishing without you.

And you? You’re still stuck in that noraebang, replaying that fateful kiss over and over in your head. Each time you close your eyes you see Hyeju and Daniel in a passionate liplock. It’s the kiss that ruined what you had with Hyeju and has made your quality of life deteriorate. You didn’t know that Hyeju makes up almost every part of your day. Mornings are empty without your stroll with her. Post-exam nights aren’t as fun when she’s not there to bring drinks. Afternoons are lonely when she’s always out with Daniel.

You hate the fucker. He knew you liked Hyeju. You’ve told him about it right before the thing he did with her even happened, so it’s impossible that he’d forget. Besides, like he said, the two of you are always together. He surely would have picked up the signs. Unfortunately, he whisked her away just like that.

You dislike to feel like the scheming guy in coming-of-age films who doesn’t get the girl, but it’s the perfect portrayal of your emotions.

Wake up for class. She does, too. You have the decency to not gawk at how good she looks even in a casual tank top and plaid shorts, but she doesn’t even try to hide that she’s staring at you. Just not for the same reason, you assume. You’re just her boy best friend. With the way things are, you aren’t even a friend to her anymore.

You smear cheese onto a soft slice of bread. Still, her eyes are on you. From the corner of what takes up your vision, you could tell that she’s trying to figure out how to make this less awkward. You’d think that an eternity’s worth of effectively giving each other the cold shoulder would make her learn how to do it. She’s a smart girl anyway. She should have figured that out.

“You know… you can’t just keep ignoring me.”

Freeze—it’s the first time she’s spoken to you in a while. And you weren’t prepared for that. It’s like someone threw a punch in your stomach, but it’s also a breath of fresh air. How those two feelings could converge into each other you don’t know. 

“So stop it, will you?” she continues. She swings her legs out of the duvet and places her hands snug on the edge of her bed. “Stop treating me like I’m a…”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your fucking ex,” Hyeju snarls. The duvet crumples in her fist.

Scoff. Fold the bread slice tight onto the other squared end. Talk about a good morning. “Ex? We were never a thing, Hye… ju.” 

Right, it isn’t like that anymore. You can’t call her Hye like the old times.

The hurt that registers on her face, still pretty in the midst of pain, comes by so fast it would take a magnifying glass to see it clearly. Now she’s the one scoffing. She recovers quickly from the stifled nickname so well that you never would have guessed you disarmed her. “That’s the thing. You’re right—we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. So why are you acting like I’m a ghost?”

“I wonder why,” you say. “Couldn’t be because you kissed me then decided to kiss another guy while I was away. Nope, totally out of the question.”

What happened? It seems like just yesterday the two of you were throwing insults and playfully quarreling with each other like it’s natural. This is a real disagreement here. This can’t be resolved with a smile or hug. You and Hyeju aren’t like that anymore. It’s a thing of the past.

Just like your friendship.

“If you’d just let me explain—”

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. Go with Daniel to class. Have a good life with him. Just call me if you get lost.”

Don’t even try to take a bite out of your cheese sandwich. You leave it on the table. Later, it’ll become stale and cold, similar to your friendship with Hyeju, or whatever kind of fucked up relationship you have.

You storm out of the dorm. You’re glad to get out—you’re already worried about the test later and the night class with miss Wong. Don’t need a situationship to take up your mind either. 

The day passes like a car on a rocky, jagged road. It’s difficult to muster a smile to the freshmen the moment you come in to help miss Jeong teach, or work on your test when that argument with her fills your mind rather than equations you should have memorized. The whole day is torture, and you don’t dare wish it on anyone. Not even that asshole Daniel

“What’s up with you today?” people ask you. “You sure you’re alright?” “Where’s Hyeju?”

You don’t answer.

When the night comes, it’s relief for your sore mind and body. That test beat you up and the sun was too cruel to your skin. Even if night classes could last till the brink of dawn, you don’t mind. Take comfort in the fact that it’s only a discussion and nothing more. 

Barely listen though. Two a.m. creeps by and you haven’t taken in a thing. Usually miss Wong would have you focused, keeping in mind that she’s strict and merciless, but you’re too tired today. Your bones ache though you didn’t do much walking. They’re only symptoms of heartbreak.

You don’t want to see a doctor. In fact, you want to get worse.

Miss Wong looks up at the clock. “Is it alright if I extend for just five minutes?” she asks. Her pencil skirt struggles to contain her strides on the platform.

A chorus of mixed responses echo in the classroom. Others, the top students in particular who participate in every club you could name, say it’s fine. Some already have excuses to make: they need to work on homework; they have other classes to go to; every excuse existing. You don’t know which side you’re on—you don’t want to come home to another angry night with Hyeju, and at the same time, you can’t be assed to stay.

Then—

Ringing. It’s all you hear. Your classmates’ voices drown out in it. It’s supposed to be soft, but it isn’t anymore when everyone shuts their mouth in alarm. Look here, look there. You don’t know where it’s coming from. 

Your hint is the light in your pocket. Fish it out. It’s coming from your phone.

“I thought I told you guys to put your cellphones on mute during class,” Wong says, sighing. Her glare shoots you a warning.

Okay, you’d say sorry to her and put your phone away. Drop the call. Anything. But the first thing you do is wonder:

Why the fuck is Son Hyeju calling you?

Aside from all the tension between you, your natural instinct is to answer. Your next is to ask her, “Hye?”

“Oppa…” comes her voice from your speaker.

Before you could wonder why she’s calling, you notice that Hyeju’s voice is… lonely. Yes, lonely. That’s the word you’d use right away if you’re asked to describe it. No, it can’t be just that. It’s mixed with something else. It’s higher, a little more groggy.

Forget that you were fighting. Forget that she kissed Daniel and broke your heart. She wouldn’t call if it isn’t something even her pride can’t protect. “Hyeju? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m lost.” 

-

Those are the two words she utters before breaking into sobs. You’ve never heard or seen Hyeju cry. She likes to treat problems with anger rather than sadness, slicing away at every conflict with groans and cursing professors for low grades. If she’s crying, it must mean something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

You’re keenly aware that all eyes and ears are monitoring your moves, but you don’t care. You rise from your seat and start gathering your laptop into your bag. You forget about your notes. Fuck them. Hyeju comes first. 

“Where did you go, Hye?” Walk out of the class. If miss Wong has a problem with that, she can tell you about it tomorrow. 

Sniffles on her end. Her quiet, low cries break your heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need you, oppa. I have… I have nobody else. Please come and get me.”

“Hyeju—”

“Please,” she whispers. Her voice lowers to a whine. “I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

Tears itch at the bottoms of your eyes. You have to come and get her. Need to forget the fight and silent treatment that ensued. All that means nothing if Hyeju’s in need of your help.

Where the fuck are your keys? Remove them from the loop of your jeans and click the button. In the driveway, your car’s headlights shine. Yep, there it is. You once regretted buying a secondhand car like that. Now that it can get you to Hyeju, you vow to take care of it for life. You’d spend thousands to repair it if it breaks down.

But right now, it’s Hyeju who’s breaking down. She’s all alone somewhere and she needs you. In a way, you need her, too. She’s the one who’s braver to admit it.

You’ve never driven faster in your entire life. All the while you stay on the line with Hyeju. Your grip on the wheel tightens whenever she lets out a hopeless little sob. She’s crying so hard that you want to roll into a ball in the corner and cry, too. You can’t do that. You have to be the stronger one, the one who comes to her like she’s done for you and tells her that everything’s going to be alright.

You make no promises. 

Eventually you coax a location out of her and break several speed limits. Ignore the cops that yell at you. They can all go and fuck off. Hyeju needs you. You’re her best friend. It’s what friends do.

“Motherfucker,” you curse, upon seeing that the location she led you to was a club. It’s hidden in the corner of a creepy alley. “Hyeju, are you drunk?”

“Nooooo…” she drawls, giggling through her tears. “Your voice is so nice, oppa. It really makes me feel better. Did’ya know that?”

No time to be flattered. You burst into the club and find her in the midst of flashing lights and crowds of bodies. Your ears ring because of the music. Whose idea was it to hire this DJ? He thinks he’s doing such a good job, too. 

Hyeju’s in the center of it all. Her black coat is too big for her, but so is the crowd. When it moves, it drags her along by the toes. She’s… smiling? Wasn’t she crying on the phone just minutes earlier? Maybe she drank more. This can’t be good.

“Hyeju!” Start walking faster. 

She sticks her tongue out at you and starts to sprint upon seeing you get close.

You have no time for games. This isn’t even in the least bit funny. What if someone spiked her drink? What if that was the reason she’s acting funny? Worse: what if someone’s planning to take advantage of her? All these concerns bump into each other in your head as you run after her. 

A couple of “excuse me”s and “sorry!”s after you quickly squeeze in between dancing people. Drinks spilled on the floor. Anger from two dolled up ladies. (A look to your right and… yep, not only from them.) Disapproval from the DJ who even calls you out. Boos from the crowd. You don’t care about them. You only care about getting Hyeju to safety. She can’t be here in her vulnerable state.

Before she could dash out from your line of vision, you grab her wrist. Seal your grip around it tightly so she can’t escape. “Son Hyeju,” you say, glaring at her. Ever since she stopped crying, she started to play around. This isn’t a game but to her it is. A fun game, to be more precise. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oooh, you caught…” She burps. Playful giggles spill from her mouth. “... me!” Hyeju gives you a drunken smile and claps for you regardless of her right hand being held into position. 

��Why are you here?”

“Why are you here? See? I can ask stupid q-questions, too!”

You whisk her away from the ongoing party and into the cold night air. You’re about to throw your jacket on her when you see that she’s wearing one, too. 

People are starting to stare. Pray that no one intervenes, even if they have good intentions. After all, you’re a man with a woman under the influence. They have every right to be concerned, but you hope that just for now they know you wouldn’t dare hurt Hyeju.

The wind blows a breeze that almost knocks you to the floor. You draw Hyeju to yourself to warm her. You can’t risk her catching a cold. 

”Let me go, oppa!” Hyeju’s mood goes from sad to drunkenly cheerful to pained. She forces her wrist out from your fist harshly. Your arms no longer wrap her. “You don’t like me anymore, right? And I have a boyfriend!”

Capture her hand again. She can’t escape and run away a second time. You’ve done that too much to know that it’ll send her down into a dizzying spiral. You’re cowards, the both of you—that’s why you flee whenever a problem arises. You don’t know how to deal with it. 

That changes now. Get in your vehicle. Pull her in, too. “For your information,” you say, locking her seatbelt in place, “you called me. You asked me to pick you up.”

The car roars to life and speeds down the road. The night barely provides light for you to move along. It’s beautiful nevertheless. Stars peek out from the depths of black. The moon is dim yet reassuring. What fate does it have in store for you? Would you accept it if you knew? How could they all look so serene while you have your drunk crush next to you starting an argument?

“And you’d loooove not to do it, wouldn’t you?” Hyeju’s words suggest that she’s no longer that drunk but the way her words come out like jumbled words in a newspaper crossword tell you otherwise. She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “It was a mistake to call you. You, you fucking hate me.”

Does she really believe that? You may hate Daniel, but you never once hated Hyeju. You’ve only had wistful feelings for her even after she kissed him. You still checked up on her socials and watched her as she ate lunch with him. You remained loyal to her, like a dog following its owner through scoldings.

Yeah, you really are just her dog.

“I don’t hate you, Hye,” you say with conviction. You’re determined to make her believe that. It’s difficult when you’ve never been the type to be good with words. 

“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t even let me explain why I kissed Daniel!”

“For fuck’s sake, I was hurt! I didn’t know what to do!”

“Then hear me out for once!”

“Alright.” Your hands slap the wheel, unintentionally bumping the horn and causing Hyeju to cringe. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”

“He was the one who kissed me, the fucking idiot! He kissed me out of the blue and wouldn’t stop!”

Wait.

What? 

Daniel, your friend and Hyeju’s, initiated the kiss? Hyeju didn’t want it to happen?

If only you knew, you would have beaten up Daniel a long time ago. 

You can’t even speak. You had it all wrong. You can’t believe there was an explanation for everything and you refused to hear it. 

Hyeju begins to sob again. Her words circle in the air like an incantation. It’s equally because of the alcohol and her emotions. “I was… talking to him about my training, but then he kissed me.” She wipes her face and laughs humorlessly. “He started making out with me and, a-and I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like I was frozen.”

“You… you didn’t kiss him?” Your tone is broken and incredulous. “He made you do it?”

She looks almost offended. “Why? Why would I ever kiss that bastard?”

“But you’re dating him.”

“I am,” says Hyeju, hands in her hair, “Hah, okay. I'm dating him, yeah, but that’s just because I thought you didn’t like me. I only want one person in the world, and it isn’t Daniel Smith.”

“Hyeju—”

“It’s you, you clueless little shit!” She punches your shoulder and muffles her face into your car pillow. Her next scream is elongated, filled with frustration. When she lifts her face from the pillow, her eyeliner and blush are smeared and wet with teardrops. “It’s you, and I only want you!”

In vino veritas.

The confession is as out of the blue as Daniel’s kiss was. You’re in a state of shock and disbelief—too much information is coming into your brain. You want to punch Daniel in the face for shocking her with an unwanted move. You want to hug Hyeju. You want to tell her that you’re sorry for not hearing her side of the story. 

Most importantly, you want to tell her that you want her, too.

It’s too late now. She’s seen you disregard her voice and choose to have a one-track mind. There’s no way she wants you anymore.

“Why the fuck would you ever want me, Hyeju?” 

“Because!” She lets out a shivering little sigh. “You don’t treat me like… hlk, like I’m a trophy to show off. You’re my friend. You know how to be mean but you take care of me even if I’m too moody sometimes. Even if I don’t want to come along with you outside because I’m scared I’ll make myself look stupid in front of you. Even if… even if I love too hard but don’t show that I love you most and that sometimes you take care of me more than my dad does and I know it’s wrong to see you that way when I’m with him now but I really want you to take care of me but still kiss me too if I need it and be okay with me calling you names like ‘daddy’ and still being your best friend besides being my boyfriend… but I know it can’t happen anymore and I ruined everything—”

“Hyeju.”

More tears flow down her face. “—and I know you won’t ever love me the same again but I’ll regret forever, long after we graduate, that I never showed that I loved you, that I was a coward—”

“Hyeju,” you say, gently. Pull over at the university parking lot. You have your finger on her mouth, sealing them to stop her droning. She pauses. She doesn’t do it without breaking down. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. It’s been happening under your nose every single day.”

“What?” she murmurs, eyes glassy as they connect with yours.

“I like you, too.”

Silence. Several beats go by. They’re too lengthy to be fake. The next nuance confirms that:

Talk about relief. Talk about passion. As if she’s forgetting that a sudden kiss was what opened Pandora’s box, Hyeju grabs your face and does exactly that. Again, it has too many things to it that blocks it from being faux. The unique shape of her lips mold onto yours, as if your lips were made to kiss each other all the time. It’s back to the café again, wherein she does something and you subconsciously follow along. Your hands are on her phenomenal waist. And soon you’re unbuckling her seatbelt so she could sit safely on your lap, where she’s supposed to be. Where she belongs.

She drops her touch to your shoulders. She massages them, and you groan delightfully. Now it’s your turn to hold her face and lean in closer. Hyeju’s mouth tastes of sweetness and alcohol. You don’t know how those two tastes could mix together. Hyeju makes it work.

“Oppa, daddy,” she whimpers. She pulls away. The distance is still close to nothing. “Daddy, I love you.”

It’s a sudden nickname, still detached from when she uses it with you jokingly, yet there’s no hesitance here. You know your truth. “I love you, too, Hyeju.”

“Will you take me to bed?” She starts grinding down on your shaft needily. “Please say you will, daddy. Please say you’ll make me happy.”

“You’re drunk. I… I don’t know if I should.”

“‘m not. Maybe. But I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time,” Hyeju says. “I won’t mind, I promise.”

She couldn’t get any more sober with that. So you do what any man would do if they were called daddy by Son Hyeju: lift her out of your car, not caring to check twice if it’s locked, and bring her to bed. Take her coat off—she won’t need it if you’ll make her warm from the inside and out.

Her arms round your neck and her face is buried in your chest. Her words come out in a desperate, needy tone that you haven’t heard from her since the day you met. Who exactly were you to make her this small?

Her daddy, of course.

See, as tough as Hyeju makes herself out to be, she’s still needy. She still has her own problems that haven’t let go of her now that she’s older, like the daddy thing. You only fully understand it now when you lay her on the bed and continue kissing her. Hard. Her moans call out for you. They aren’t merely things to whine if it feels good. It’s not even a matter of want anymore; her shivers and cries indicate of her carnal need for you to do what you will with her.

“Don’t be scared,” she tells you, closing her eyes as you kiss her perfect jawline. “You wanted me for so long, right? Well, I did, too. Do what you want to me. Fuck me, daddy.”

“You talk extremely dirty for someone who’s drunk,” you chuckle. 

“Not so drunk anymore. You make me sober.”

“Sweet talker. You’re all bark and no bite.”

Hyeju has no retort to make. Your lips on her gorgeous nipple render her speechless. The cute pink nub is hard, and grows harder at your loving suckles. Her breasts are the perfect size for squeezing. Relish in that fact by squeezing her left breast while dedicating more of your attention to the other, making her become sensitive with each action. 

You’d say you have bite, for you do so lightly on her breast. She gasps. “Daddy!” she cries out.

“Fuck, don’t say it like that.” Your cock throbs already. It’s the same feeling you get all those times before, the times you’d get into an argument with Hyeju and she’d call you that.

“What? It’s not my fault you can’t handle me,” she says wittily.

“Don’t try me.”

“What?” She cocks a brow. “Hit too close to home?”

You have to shut her bratty self up. Tug her pants off, sliding them off her silky legs. Her pink panties are a hint to the gentle color of her pussy. Find out about them anyway—push the underwear aside and shove three fingers in her.

“Oh shit.” Hyeju’s squeeze on your digits is instant, like an impulsive reaction. 

Think about if Daniel has done this to her before and pick up the pace. You’re fingering her like the walls of her soaked pussy would banish him and let you have her all to yourself. “Son Hyeju,” you growl, “shut the fuck up.”

“W-won’t—ah!” 

If you don’t make her quiet, you’ll at least reduce her words to pathetic moans. You’d say you’re successful. Your rapid thrusts send Hyeju’s screams paralleling the night wind with their strength. 

You’re surprised again and again at how loud she could get. She’s always so quiet except for the occasional sarcastic remark. She can make no more of those if faced with the relentless fingering you do unto her pussy. They draw out strings of dampness when they withdraw, and fill her right to the knuckles when you go back in. Her hips squirm and you have to place a hand on her thigh to continue.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” she screams. Her mouth is open while she sits up to look at what you’re doing to her vulnerable cunt. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop!”

She looks beautiful. Her shirt is lifted above her breasts, making them bounce madly due to the timing and force of your thrusts. Her eyes could never be more watchful. She can’t believe she actually has you between her legs and fingering her to orgasm.

“Got any comeback for me, Hye?” you ask smugly. 

Hyeju nods. Her lips are parted again. Although you haven’t had sex with her except for now, you know what that dropped jaw means: she’s close.

Her walls are impossible to part completely. She’s too damn tight that you bet she’d still be so with one finger. The grip of her slippery, wet cunt is like no other. You reach deep into it and stroke out till you find the place. That’s how Hyeju starts to shiver. She can’t manage it.

“Oh, yeah? What do you have to say now, sweet?” Wrap your lips around her nipple. It’s another one of your unfair advantages over her.

“I-I-I—I can’t!” 

The recoil of Hyeju’s tits is amazing. Harshly squeeze the boob you’ve relatively neglected to make sure she can’t get a word out of those pretty lips. Take a further step and smack it, too. She moans in satisfaction. Your harsh squeezes imprint a replica of your hand on her pale skin. 

Of course, you don’t forget to keep your fingers going. You change techniques now and then, switching from gentle circling to rapid fire shoving. Whether it’s one or the other, Hyeju’s fuckhole swallows you up. She doesn’t mind which or what; she needs your harshness the most. It’s what counts as a whole.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum! Please make me cum on your fingers, make your babygirl cum… oh—oh, fuck!”

Combined with your thumb nudging her small clit and your digits absolutely destroying her tightness, Hyeju does the unthinkable: she squirts on your hand and on your bed. Liquid gushes on your shirt; it’s so consistent and clear that a new determination is founded within you. It’s to make your unbearably hot best friend cum like she never has.

For the record, it’s the first time you’ve made a girl squirt. You didn’t expect that it would be this satisfying. Seeing Hyeju’s blissful face and the shake of her beautiful legs make your efforts worth it. Watching yourself do it to your best friend and make her feisty, boyish self let out screams and pleas brings increased triumph.

“No, oh god, it’s too much!” Hyeju says this but her legs part more. Her head is tossed back and her moans don’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t—daddy!”

“Messy little brat.” Rub away at her clit. Feel the spurt of her cum hit your finger. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Keep those pretty thighs open.”

Hyeju mewls at the mixture of degradation and moans. If Daniel had said that to her, she probably would have thrown up in a bucket. When it’s you, on the other hand, everything changes. She wants you to call her every harsh name out there and accompany it with sides of praise. She’ll only feel this good when she’s with you.

Hyeju is anything but obedient. Things change here in the dorm, where her pussy is spread and prone to your touch. Her midriff, soft yet slender, rises over and over. The hose of her wet orgasms still hasn’t stopped.

“Goddammit, you’re squirting so much. Am I that good, hm, Hyeju? Is daddy that good to his pretty little girl?” 

“Mmm, mmm, don't— no more, daddy, no more!” Hyeju’s core is already spent, and you haven’t even put your cock in her yet. 

Stop. Not before you leave a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves that you abused. It’s a mark now, something invisible that subtly says to everyone that you got to fuck her. You got to fuck Son Hyeju. You made her cum like never before.

Spit on Hyeju’s center then spread it to her lips and nub. She moans. “You’re so wet, Hye.”

“Whatever.” She’s blushing. “I’ve had better.”

You have to say you’re a little provoked. You know it’s false seeing the smug look on her face and after making her squirt, but who exactly has done her better? Daniel? Definitely not him. The possibility still does well to spur you to jealousy.

“Oh,” you say, smiling tightly, “so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Hyeju gasps happily when she’s pushed to the wall and on her knees. It’s reminiscent of how Daniel did exactly that: pinning her to the wall before kissing her. Your anger brews into a fire just thinking about him. 

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Unbuckle your belt. Your jeans join it on the floor as well as your briefs. “I’m gonna clean that dirty mouth of yours.”

“And how are you gonna do that, daddy?” Hyeju pretends not to know what’s coming.

It’s your belief that actions speak louder than words. That’s why when you place your cock in between Hyeju’s lips, it resonates inside her more than your promise to purify her mouth. Logic fails here when dirty sins can’t remove Hyeju’s dirty words. One wrong and another doesn’t make a right. Oh, who cares? This isn’t a class. This isn’t your thesis. You focus only on feeling the softness of her triangular mouth, the wetness of the back of her throat.

Holding your cock by the base, you lead its tip into rubbing every corner of Hyeju’s mouth. Her cheeks make an outline of your girth as you press your head against them. Her jaw becomes slack after you press your dick down to her tongue. You’re technically doing all the work here because you’re fucking her face, but you’d argue that Hyeju contributes just as much with her tearful eyes that are more puppy than wolf.

The shape of her wet orifice leaves ample space for you to rub against everything. Your tip draws a triangle on her lips right before slipping inside. There you keep your word and clean her dirty mouth. Push those naughty words down her throat with immediate thrusts. That way, she can only moan, nothing else. No sass can be heard from her now.

“You’re such a bad girl, Hyeju,” you say. Curl your hand ‘round her messy hair and direct it downwards. She groans, her mouth now upright for yout fuck easier into. “You shouldn’t like having your mouth used like this. You shouldn’t be on your knees for your best friend when your boyfriend’s waiting for you at home.”

Hyeju knows you’re right. She shouldn’t. She isn’t supposed to enjoy having her throat rammed and spread. She shouldn’t be cheating on the man she claims to love. It’s a mistake of hers to be here anyway, underneath another man. 

Her second mistake is to like everything the way it is..

Her third is to tongue your shaft like she would a sweet treat. She wants to taste all of you, from your thick tip to the base. She’s not had much to work on with Daniel, but she knew it would be a good time when you sprung out your cock. She makes this worth it—she seals her lips at your base, her nose pressed firmly at the bottom of your tummy, then produces such a harsh suction that the grip you have in her black locks of messy hair tightens. A curse is what you let out besides precum. 

“Fuck,” you say. Pull her head closer. Aggressive thrusts fire away. “Didn’t know your pouty little lips could suck dick so well. I bet it’s bulging your throat. Is daddy right about that?”

She tries to nod. Her gags stop her intended action; your thrusts have sped up and are now destroying her tight throat. No space is left for her to breathe when her mouth is stuffed with your length. Even her nostrils can’t take in much air if her nose is pressed that tightly to your stomach.

Place a hand on the wall in order for there to be no aches for her head when you thrust wildly. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe you’re a good girl, especially with that face. Go on, touch yourself. I know you want to.”

Permission is granted by her daddy. Hyeju gives a cry in response then leads her hand between her legs. Letting you fuck her face has made her wet beyond imagination. She doesn’t need to press directly on her pussy when there’s slick all over her thighs. She gathers them all up and places them back in her pussy. She moans as she swirls her digits inside her. Here’s how it works: she has one hand masturbating, and the other on your thigh to caress it and at the same time keep her balance.

Take note of that. “You’re a smart girl, Hyeju. Smart girls shouldn’t be letting their faces get fucked. We can’t have that happen, right?”

You say that yet your actions tell a different story. Your violent pumps into Hyeju’s mouth to use it to the limits are endless. Hyeju’s moaning. She enjoys it more than she should. Of course, you jam those moans, as pretty as they are, down her throat. 

Slap your cock on her lips.

“You know what I mean.”

Slip the whole of your length out then in again. Make her brush those luscious lips against every inch.

“We really, really can’t have that happen.”

Caress her cheek. Her eyes are awaiting and obedient. Look down into them and almost feel bad for ruining her, your best friend.

“Daniel might walk in anytime. He’ll be looking for you.”

Your movements are cruel as time goes by. You shouldn’t be treating your best friend like this. You shouldn’t even be having sex with her. All of these ought to stop you in your tracks—you don’t.

“And what will he say when he sees his precious girlfriend on her knees for his best friend?”

Hyeju begins to whine. She doesn’t want him to walk in; she’s enjoying this too much. What she doesn’t want to happen even more is for you not to blow your load inside her warm throat. People can’t have what they want all the time, but she swears she won’t want anything else if you just give her what she wants. That’s for you to absolutely use her. Be cruel to her and it wouldn’t sting.

“He’ll start to think how better you are with me. You’re a bad girl, Hyeju. You know that and you still want me.”

You’re right in every way. She is better with you. You just fuck her better, treat her better, kiss her better. She can’t kiss better the wound she’ll leave in Daniel if he just so happens to walk in. Maybe she could, but she’d put salt on it when he discovers how good you make her feel. It isn’t fair to anybody. To you, the one she accidentally hurt; to Daniel, who was the one (no, make that the two with how he was her last resort and how she gave him false hope); to her, who can’t go without you.

“Let go.”

Nine.

It takes exactly nine strokes in between her folds for her to cum. Drool sheens your girth. Some even drip from her mouth. It’s like she’s in heat; she’s whining as she tries to cum and suck you off at the same time. Hyeju ends up sucking your shaft with desperation, legs quivering and threatening to give away.

“Cum with me, Hyeju,” you command her. Pull out, rather regretfully, but take comfort with how pretty she’d look covered in your cum. Your hand wraps around you and jerks you off. Although it can’t match Hyeju’s mouth or her ass, it’ll do well in shooting your load on her.

Your best friend keeps calling your name squeezed between “daddy”s as she fingers herself to orgasm. She collapses pathetically on the floor, in a pool of sweat and cum. Her shirt and the floor of your shared dorm room are stained. No need to wonder where those white stains come from; the only suspects are you and Hyeju. It’s a partnered crime for her squirt comes out at such a velocity that it rivals your cumshots.

“Take my load, Hyeju, fuck!”

If there’s anything Hyeju isn’t, it’s submissive. It somehow changes when she nods and opens her mouth. You’re introduced to a whole new side of her. Her post-orgasm face is one you hope to admire everyday. Look at the expressions she makes when her eyes are crossed and her tongue is out for you and you have difficulty choosing between the two. 

You and Hyeju exchange a tired look. If you’re to be specific, a look is how everything starts. You became friends with her because she was staring at you too long a time in class. You quickly reunited with her in college when you looked to your back to see to whom the familiar voice belonged. It took one quick glance to see that Daniel had kissed her in the noraebang.

Similarly, a look is what causes you to shamelessly throw Hyeju on the bed again. By now her limbs curl into yours like this were a completely natural thing that happened between you, as if she were always being fucked and manhandled like this. Your kisses now are more aggressive, too. They aren’t nervous like earlier, when you still weren't sure if doing this was right. Hyeju responds by engaging in a battle for dominance, pushing forward and pulling the forces connecting you. 

You win in the end.

Slam her back down to the mattress. Her anticipation is written clearly in her eyes. “I’m going to ruin you, Son Hyeju,” you say.

She laughs in your face. “Bet.”

Alright. You’ll show her. It’s a friendly bet you’ll take all seriousness in.

Align your dick with her waiting cunt. You shed all attempts to tease her or dive into foreplay. What she needs is your cock inside her, rearranging her insides. If that’s so, you’ll give it to her. 

“Oh!” Hyeju gasps. Her pretty eyes are big above her hands covering her face. She never guessed you would feel this good inside her. “You’re so fucking big, daddy. It's, it’s better than I imagined, fffuck.”

Steer all your weight into this thrust specifically. Your tip makes contact with her G-spot and sends her legs shaking. Send her a couple inches further on the mattress. Her godly tits begin another round of bouncing. There’s no other routine you’d love to watch. 

Already you've put your hands on her hips. They’re to pull her closer if she gets lost. Again. You have to make sure you won’t lose her this time. This chance was given to you for a reason. You have to keep her here, show her all the love you’ve kept bottled up all these years.

Hyeju squirms a lot. That’s what your grip is for. It’s to keep her on the bed so she can easily receive your pumps. And what a good job she does at receiving them—Hyeju’s hips shiver as they’re subjected to a force her sensitive pussy can’t handle. She’s always going into things she can’t handle. This is no different. Time with Daniel was okay, but you’re a different story. You ensure that she’s always filled to the hilt until she’s bottoming out. 

Deeper and deeper you go. Your cock knocks up into her tummy. You curse; it’s hotter than it’s supposed to be. Something as simple as that shouldn’t be so arousing.

“Oh, you like that? You… you like seeing your big cock stuffing my little pussy?” asks Hyeju. Her teeth are parted to let in air she so desperately needs to formulate these words. She knows they’ll turn you on. “I know you do, daddy. Look at your meat ruining my insides. You’re going to cum so much inside me. And I’ll take it all. I’m a good girl. I’ll show you I’m a good girl.”

She leads your hand to her throat and closes your digits around it. Get the message. Squeeze there tight. Her strangled gasp is everything.

“You are, huh?” you say. Your composure is long gone. “Are you always this tight, Hyeju? Are you always this good? Or is it just for daddy?”

There’s something incredibly hot in the way Hyeju gushes and screams for you. Her nipples stand in the air, aroused by the quick penetrating done to her pussy. It seems almost impossible for her to be this wet. Each push of your hips brings forth a gush of wetness that wets the sheets and your joined crotches. Bring out your cock for a second to quickly flick its tip on her clit.

Hyeju gropes her own chest with closed eyes. “Ohhhh, fuck!” 

Return to your routine of drilling her. Her whole body reacts violently to your pounding. Moreover, every part of Hyeju’s beautiful body screams to be touched. Her jiggling thighs and breasts, her midriff prone to your thrusts, her face that’s never looked this slutty… where should you start? Your touch is given multiple choices, and you choose all of them. Your hands roam her body and squeeze and feel and grope. In response, she moans. The volume of her acute voice turns up with each, almost like her body has triggers that would draw out louder sounds. 

You think of it that way and now Hyeju’s screaming as you propel inside her while keeping a hand on her clit. 

“Daddy, o-only you, daddy!” she proclaims in a helpless scream. “No one can make me feel as good as you do, just keep fucking me, don’t stop!”

You’ve got your answer. Smile in satisfaction and, since she’s a good girl and gave the correct response, lean it to worship her breasts. Does slapping them count as worshiping? Hyeju thinks it does—her high groans and yells are enough to be context clues. You marvel at the size of her chest, so subtle with the baggy clothes she wears but now in their full, naked glory before you. It’s impossible for them to be presented to you without a squeeze being done.

“You like my tits, daddy? I’ll let you fuck them all you want, just finish inside me. I’m safe today. Promise, p-pro—”

Bury yourself deep inside her, to the point that your cockhead pushes at her cervix. Fill her up. Hyeju moans happily. She rolls her body up and down. The stimulation seduces you into making (kind of) breeding her a job well done.

“Thank you, daddy.” she sighs. She’s still erotically grinding her hips. It’s karma for overstimulating her a little earlier when your fingers filled her. 

“S-stop, Hyeju.”

“Stop? Alright, sure. I think that’s enough now. Daddy doesn’t want to fuck my tits anymore.”

Naughty little brat. She knows just the right words to tick you off and turn you on. It makes you want her to pound her into the bed again so that not even the old mattress can forget that it was the place you and Hyeju fucked.

“I’m just kidding, silly. Sit down! Yes, thank you.” 

She flashes you a smile after you do as she says. It’s a rare moment in this session with her that she has the say in what happens. Somehow. It can’t be completely true, not when she’s on her knees again for you. Not when her tongue trails worshipful lines on your cock and draws tight licks on your tip. Shiver. You’re a bit sensitive yourself.

“Now see how good this feels?” 

She takes her glorious breasts in her hands and wraps them around your cock. You let out a guttural moan. Hyeju’s tits rival her mouth and pussy. It’s a close competition, with the advantage of softness most of all. Oh, when she starts to move, gliding her supple skin up and down your size, you almost cum on the spot.

Her bosom is a portal to heaven, you swear. Your legs feel light. Your core is hot as your size disappears between her breasts, buried in the soft and safe haven she provides. The friction is so overwhelming that you doubt it could even be a real sensation.

She makes a show of rubbing your tip on her nipple, similar to what you did to her clit. The two of you are sensitive, so you moan in harmony as it happens. After gliding your cock on her large breasts, she goes back to titfucking you. 

It’s all a matter of technique. Whenever she presses her chest together, your cock is suffocated with euphoric tenderness. On the other hand, when she simply moves up and down, you’re given the opportunity to grind down at the skin between her pale breasts. Each route leads to an inevitable fate: exploding all over her a second time.

"P-please stop, Hyeju," you say. You can't handle no more and there's so many more things you want to do to her.

"Awh." She pouts. Fat tears risk spilling from her eyes. God, she could be so cute sometimes. "What do you want, daddy? I can be good."

"Turn around."

"Ohhh, I see what you want." Hyeju turns around and spanks herself. Her ass ripples photogenically. "Of course. Of course you want it."

Hyeju can be so many things. A few minutes earlier she was a submissive babygirl for her daddy, and right before that she was a brat. Now, she transforms into a seductress. She doesn't lace or lingerie to become one. She has that fantastic body to do the work for her.

Hyeju starts to dance. Your eyes are trained on her. They never want to see anything else than her swaying her butt with a dancer's grace and charm. 

"Giving me a show, huh?" 

"Unless daddy wants it already." 

"I do."

She squeezes her ass cheek before reaching her pussy. Then, she rubs her wetness on her pink, puckered hole. She lathers some at the inside of the rim, too. She didn't expect to fuck you today, no matter how many times she's dreamed of it, so there's no lubricant around. Hyeju has to make do.

"Oh!" she squeals when you give her a playful smack on the ass. "Impatient. Daddy's impatient. Don't worry, I'll give it to you."

“You did this before?”

“Duh.” Hyeju smiles sweetly, quickly returning to her good girl side. “You ready now, daddy?”

Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, for Hyeju immediately guides your tip into her backside. You do your part in spreading her cheeks. Both of you moan at the first contact. It’s difficult by itself to insert just your tip through. She’s too tight. 

You’re sinking into this long-chased dream. You’ve seen Hyeju walk around the dorm with no shorts on. Sometimes you're able to catch a glimpse of her bare ass when she dresses up in the dark. It’s normal when it’s with you, considering that your friendship transcends time, but she doesn’t know that yearning’s been put in your heart in those moments. You want her. You want Son Hyeju.

And now, she’s submitting herself to you. She’s given you her body, her tits, her pussy. Now she offers you an equally delicious choice: her supple ass that’s bouncy as it finally sits down completely on your lap. 

“Good daddies bounce their babygirls on their knees, right? Should’ve known that, dummy. So come on, pound me. It isn’t hard.”

Well, you are. Hyeju’s ass is constricting you yet you enjoy every second of it. Her tight little asshole clings to you as you do as she says. You’d do anything for Hyeju, and that doesn’t exclude engaging in anal sex with her.

Choose a rhythm to go by to enjoy the tightness Hyeju gives you to the fullest. She leans into you and hums quietly, lower lip worried between her teeth and ass steadily rising and resting. The flexes of your thigh also stimulate her needy pussy. Your knee brushes her clit steadily while your cock penetrates her asshole better than any toy could. Better than any boy would.

“Oh, that feels so good, daddy…” Hyeju murmurs. “Keep spreading me like that, yes.”

Just when she thought you’d switch to being gentle, your thrusts become sporadic. She can’t find which timings you’re going by. The calm before the storm, so to say. Hyeju’s whimpers and whines are your thunder, and they soon live up to their name when they grow louder, filling your ears as would the violent downpour of raindrops. 

“D-daddy, daddy, oh my god—” Pain partners up with pleasure in wrecking her hole. Darn you for reaching in front of her to rub her clit as well. Too many things are happening at the same time. “Daddy better make me cum, please, please—”

Your size fills the tight space of her ass so much that it’s difficult to move. The juices of her pussy that she’s used as makeshift lube can’t even do the job they’re assigned to. However, you don’t care about that. You simply fuck Hyeju’s fat, delectable ass like it’s been your long-term dream. In a way it is, but you’d be dreaming about it long after it’s already been fulfilled.

Hyeju stands up to take the lead and work her butt on you. You know she’s an excellent dancer but you never knew she could be this good at twerking either. 

“Holy shit, Hyeju, your little asshole feels amazing,” you moan. Spank her, though she’s undeserving of punishment when she’s amazing at using that ass.

“And your cock is so fucking big in my ass,” she says. “I don’t want anything else, daddy. Ohh, god, keep doing that.”

Her rear end bounces and claps together as they take in your fat cock. She looks back at you lustfully, watching you ruin her supple ass. Reach for her breasts to match the velocity of her thrusts. You’re two forces colliding, each filled with fire to defeat the other with pleasure. It’s a losing game when Hyeju’s ass is just as good as her pussy, which you continue playing with to bring her to orgasm.

“Good girl, Hye, keep bouncing that fat ass on daddy,” you whisper in her ear. Love to hear her weak little moans; they show you that she likes this as much as you do. Probably more. “You want to cum, right? You want to squirt on me again?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” Hyeju is in paradise although her skin feels like it’s been set on fire. She hasn’t felt this good before. “No other cock can do me the way you do, daddy, I’m all yours! Make me cum, cum inside me, daddy!”

You’ve changed her. She’s a totally different person outside of the bedroom. She hides her approval in sarcastic comments and teases you about them. How is it that she’s completely submissive and good for you? 

Your ego swells. Smack her pussy just enough to make her gasp. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, daddy!” 

“And this ass?”

“It’s all yours, daddy,” sobs Hyeju. “Always so fucking big inside me, so much better, you need to make me cum—”

Pull her down to your lap then thrust inside her all while not letting an inch withdraw from her snug butthole. “Cum for me,” you say.

“Ohhhh fuck!” 

Hyeju begins her sexy body rolls again as a profane spray of clear liquid fires from her pussy. She’s so wet; when you rub her clit, a squelching sound is produced. She’s too turned on from the feeling of you savage pounding inside her. She slaps her own pussy to go along with your rubbing, then leads your fingers inside her cunt again. She’s still so tight. 

The combined feeling of two of her holes being violated has her tired. She could be murmuring a spell and you wouldn’t know because of how jumbled and jarred her words are. The syllables make out your name and title. At least, that’s what you could understand. It would take an experienced veteran transcriber to make sense of Hyeju’s sounds.

You blast her ass with so much cum that it overflows, like water threatening to spill from the brim of a glass. Your joined cores are so wet and sticky that neither of you feel like moving. You want to stay in the narrow yet pleasurable comfort of each other’s touch forever.

It’s so pleasant that you could only hear the gratifying sound of each other’s pants and not the knocks on your door.

So safe that you don’t hear the sound of a lock being skewered with because each other’s bodies are more homely than this dorm.

So distracting that when he comes in through the door and yells in disgust, it’s the first time you feel an awakening sobriety.

[chickenlizard13]

Let Me See

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 4742

Warnings: Fluff, Mature 18+ (get outta here you kids)

Description: I’m really just doing whatever I want at this point. Can be read as a sequel to All You’ve Done, but can also be read as a standalone. Prequel to Stay Right Here.

Holding the box in your lap, you bounce your knees impatiently, awaiting Ominis’s return. You sat on the couch, fearing he’d take the gift as an insult, rather than the assistance it was meant to be. 

Grabbing your journal from the side table, you read the incantation again, and again, and again, knowing it by heart but still afraid you’d make a mistake. It was getting late, a heavy rainstorm obscuring the front gate of the property, making you all the more anxious. Ominis was always punctual, if not early, so it concerned you that he still hadn’t walked through the front door. 

Taking a few calming breaths, you reminded yourself that Ominis was incredibly capable, more so than you at times, so it wouldn’t do to sit around worrying. 

Standing up, you gingerly place the box on the couch, heading into the kitchen to make tea. Ominis would certainly appreciate a hot cup after the cold storm. You’d just put the pot on the flames, when two freezing hands appeared on your hips. Yelping, you turn around to an absolutely soaked Ominis, grinning down at you mischievously.

“Hello, darling.”  

“Ominis! I don’t understand how you keep doing this. Why is it, I can level an entire poacher camp alone, but I never hear you sneaking up behind me?” His grin widened as he took a step towards you, the puddle forming at his feet growing larger.

“It’s not my fault you keep letting your guard down. Perhaps you’ve become rusty?” 

Scoffing, a drop from his wet hair lands directly on your forehead, startling you. “My love, go change. Those clothes can’t be comfortable.” 

You try to move out of his grasp, but find yourself being tugged back, your hands landing on soaked biceps. 

“I’m actually quite comfortable right here.”

Water continues to drip on you from his hair as you squirm, laughing in his arms, his smile becoming more maniacal the longer you struggle. “Ominis! Release me you scoundrel, you’re soaked! Go dry off!” 

Instead, he hauls your body right up against him, shoving his face into the crook of your neck. You again squeal at him to let go, but he refuses to budge. 

Finally he raises his face, kissing you sweetly on the lips, before pulling away slightly. You gaze up at him in annoyance, grimacing. “I’m wet.”

He chuckles playfully, humming as he kisses you again and whispers against your lips. “You will be.” 

Blushing, you smack him on the arm and he steals one last kiss before releasing you to change, laughing the whole way up the stairs. 

You look down at yourself, now also soaked, and shake your head, a small amused smile gracing your lips. Grabbing your wand, you dry yourself off and clean up the water Ominis had tracked into the kitchen. 

The house had once belonged to Professor Fig, and was passed to you upon his death. It sat isolated on a high cliff, overlooking the ocean. Wildflowers bloomed in the yard, their stalks shaking wildly as Ominis’s ever growing cat colony chased each other through the grass. 

You’d moved in immediately after seventh year, not having another place to go, and not wanting to return to the muggle world. Ominis had returned to the Gaunt estate at first, but showed up at your doorstep in hysterics late one night, cursing his family name and the marriage they’d tried to force on him. You’d ushered him through the door, and he never walked back out. 

It’d been several years since then, and every day you were grateful to have him. At times, you had to stop and steady yourself, awed by the love he bestowed on you constantly. You thought it a crime that his family attempted to rob him of his gentle soul, and you swore to pay them back tenfold if they ever tried again. 

The tea pot whistled loudly, drawing you out of your thoughts. Grabbing two cups, you bring the tea out to the living room, startling slightly when you see Ominis standing by the couch, back to you. 

He’d changed into dry comfortable clothes, turning around when he heard you enter. In one hand he held the box you’d set on the couch, in the other, he held the contents of said box. 

“Darling, this was on the sofa. Is it yours?” You set the tea down on a table and walk over to him.

“It’s yours actually.” 

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “A scarf? I have plenty of scarves my love, something you remind me of constantly.” 

Rolling your eyes, you worm your way under his arm, hugging his side,  arms wrapping around his waist. “It’s not just any scarf, you silly man.” 

He makes a curious sound in the back of his throat as he leans his head on top of yours. “Care to enlighten me?” 

Back at Hogwarts, Natty informed you of a certain charm taught at Uagadou. The spell allowed the caster to see through the eyes of a familiar. You’d immediately thought about Ominis, that maybe he’d be interested in trying it out, but Natty said that she wasn’t sure if it’d work on someone who was already blind. Thus, began the long journey of trial and error, often forcing Sebastian to play guinea pig with a blindfold. 

Once you were sure you’d perfected the charm for your purposes, you’d gotten to work on the familiar part. Natty was very specific, stating that the caster and familiar had to have a deep connection, and Ominis wasn’t overly fond of most beasts. He loved the cats of course, but you wouldn’t say there was one he favored in particular. 

Then the thought came to you, perhaps if you made something yourself, and then transfigured it into an animal, your connection with Ominis would translate over. Honestly, you’d have probably been able to show him sooner, if learning to knit hadn’t taken so long. 

Now though, everything was finally ready. Ominis held a cream colored scarf in his hand, both of your initials embroidered in the corner. “Why don’t you sit down, my love.” 

Ominis cocks his brow at you, but obeys, sitting down and patting the seat next to him. You sit and take his unoccupied hand in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“So, I’ve been working on something, for you, for quite a long time now, and I think it’s finally ready.” 

His thumb swept back and forth across your hand, body turned towards you attentively. “The scarf? You made it?” 

Nodding, you continue your explanation. “That’s not all. I- There’s a spell that would allow someone to use a familiar to…see.” 

You felt his fingers tighten on yours as his brows furrowed. “But I…I don’t have a familiar. How would-“

“That’s where the scarf comes in. I’m going to transfigure it.” 

Ominis breathed out, not saying anything more. You would be worried that he was cross with you, if not for the thumb still stroking lazy circles on the back of your hand. “And…you’ve been working on this? For how long?”

You pressed your lips together, unable to read his face to tell what he was feeling. “Since our seventh year.” 

Ominis sucked in a breath, his voice coming out in a whisper. “That long?” 

He clutched the scarf in his hand, holding it close to him, voice just above a whisper. “Show me.”

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, you take out your wand, and waving it over the scarf, you watch as it transfigures into a smooth white snake. You just thought he’d look so good with a snake draped over his shoulders, making such a striking image combined with his pressed jackets and manicured hair. He smirked slightly at you, raising an eyebrow in amusement. 

“A snake? Really?” 

“Shut up. Are…Are you ready?” 

His face becomes serious again, hesitating only a moment before nodding his head. You took a deep breath, praying for success. He closed his eyes, squeezing your hand as you cast the spell. You were sure to be extra careful with your pronunciation, placing your wand on the table when you finished. He waited a beat before cracking an eye open, sucking in a breath and snapping it shut again. 

You reached for him, heart sinking, fearing the worst. Before your hands could get too far, he was shoving his face into your shoulder, eyes still pinched shut. “Ominis, what’s wrong? Did it not-”

“It worked. I’m just- I just need a moment.” You could feel him take calming breaths against your skin, allowing him to stay there until he was ready. Slowly, he leaned back, eyes still shut. Blinking slowly, he opened them, taking in the carpet under his feet. He studied the patterns, following the black swirls, before looking at the fireplace. The snake’s head mirrored his movements, silently showing him what he wanted. He sat mesmerized by the fire for a moment, before looking back at the carpet, the snake moving in sync. 

“What…what color is that?”

You didn’t take your eyes off him, knowing what he was asking about. “Red.”

He mouthed the word, staring for a moment more, before turning his gaze to look at you. It looked like all the air left his body as he locked eyes with you, his breath shuddering out of him. “...oh.” 

His eyes darted around your face, a stricken look on his features, mouth slightly open. You didn’t know what he meant, feeling slightly self conscious under his attention, resisting the urge to cross your arms in front of you. You’d never felt insecure in your relationship, but suddenly you worried he didn’t like what he saw, nervous it would have a negative effect on his feelings for you. 

You unintentionally shied away from his intense scrutiny, and his hand shot out to your face, chasing you. “Please don’t run.”

He swallowed, still staring at you with wide eyes. “I’m-I’m sorry, it’s just…that’s…that’s what you look like? I- How- How did you end up with…me?” 

You looked at him bewildered, his eyes drinking in the new expression. “How did I…end up with you? Ominis I- because you’re kind, and generous, and-”

“But you just look so…I don’t- I can’t articulate how-” He stopped abruptly, releasing an irritated huff at his fumbling. 

You realized that he’d never seen himself before. He didn’t know how beautiful he was. Standing suddenly, you haul him up, dragging him to the nearest mirror. The snake slithered up his arm, resting its long body around his shoulders, head turning quickly as Ominis tried to look at every object you passed. 

You lead him to a mirror hanging in the hall, stopping in front of it. “How did you end up with me? My love, take a look at yourself.” 

He turned his attention to the mirror, eyes wide. His hand came up to touch his face. “Are these…moles? I have so many.” 

Hugging one arm, you lean your head against him, watching him inspect himself. You smile lovingly, fingers running up and down his arm lightly. 

He watched in the mirror as you watched him, the look on your face striking him in the chest. Was this how you always looked at him? Even having now seen himself, he truly couldn’t fathom why you chose him. He thought he looked so plain compared to you. You were…Merlin you were beautiful. He’d known that of course, his wand giving him a vague idea of your facial structure, but it was nothing compared to this. He could see the slightest change to your expression, the color of your skin, your eyes. It was overwhelming. 

“You have to stop doing this.” 

Scrunching your brow, you shake your head at him, not understanding.

“Every time I think I can’t possibly fall more in love with you, you give me another reason. What am I supposed to do? Nothing I can give you will ever hold a candle to what you’ve given me.” 

Shaking your head, you try to object, but Ominis continues on. “I’d endure every terrible thing in my life, all of it, all over again if it meant you’d be there waiting for me.”

You turn your face away, hiding your watery eyes. He squeezes your hand, a soft smile painting his face, his voice intimate. “Thank you, my love.”

You sat together in silence for a moment longer, just basking in each other's presence. Eventually, he asks you to disenchant the snake and turn it back into a scarf, informing you that he was feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment. You did as he asked, taking care to place the scarf back in the box carefully, saving it for another time. 

He held you close that night, limbs entangled, your face tucked into his neck as he combed his fingers through your hair. Basking in your warmth and replaying your image in his head. 

—————

It’d been a few days since then, the both of you sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a peaceful morning. You gazed out the window at the rising sun, sipping your coffee, lost in thought. Ominis stroked his fingers on the back of your hand idly, an enchanted book in the other hand, seemingly engrossed in the words. In reality, Ominis’s attention was elsewhere, mulling over the events of the days prior. 

He’d used the scarf a handful of times, for short periods as it was still quite overwhelming, preferring to use his wand for most things. 

However, a thought continuously ran through his mind every time he saw you. He loved seeing the little expressions that were often lost to him, treasuring each one, but as time went on his eyes would drift lower, wondering what you’d look like under your clothes. He’d trace the contours of your body, his hands lightly following the path his eyes blazed.

He wanted desperately to peel your layers off, slowly exploring your skin with his lips, wondering what color you’d turn with his mouth on you. 

What he wasn’t thrilled about, was the large snake he’d have to wrap around his shoulders, wearing it the entire time he ravaged you. He turned the thought over in his mind, pondering possible solutions, and the things you’d said about the nature of the spell itself.

“Darling, may I ask you something?”

You turned your head towards him, eyes blinking slowly as you came out of your distracted daze. “Of course, my love, anything.” 

He paused for a moment, mindlessly stroking your hand in thought. “That spell, does it only work on animals?” 

You cocked your head, to the side, considering his inquiry. “I’m…not sure. The spell specifies that a connection is required, but I don’t know if it’s strictly limited to beast companions. Why do you ask?”

Ominis hummed in thought. “Simply curious.”

 

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I’ll do some research today while you’re at work.” 

Smiling, he gently brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles lightly. “Thank you, darling.”

—————

It took a couple more days, and a brief trip to see Natty, but you think you’d done it. Ominis sat in front of you on the couch waiting patiently, a nervous buzz beneath his skin. He closed his eyes in anticipation, until he felt the now familiar feeling of the spell taking effect. 

Opening his eyes, he was startled with the image of himself sitting on the couch. It was interesting watching his own reactions, finding coordination difficult as you sat across from him. 

You watched him flail about for a moment, unsure of how to match his movements to what he was seeing. Standing, you take the seat next to him. “Better?”

He nods, and turns his face to you, disappointed when he only sees himself looking back. This wouldn’t do at all. His brows furrowed, a pout forming on his lips. “I can’t see you.” 

You chuckle and grab his hand, guiding him once more to the large mirror in the hall. Standing in front, you gesture to your reflection. “Problem solved.” 

Ominis slots himself up behind you, winding his arms around your torso as he places his chin on your shoulder, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Problem solved indeed.” 

There was something in his voice that sent a shiver down your back, but you watched him start to place light, lingering kisses on your neck. You stood there, tilting your head to give him better access, to which he groaned in appreciation, his kisses becoming a bit more forceful. 

You continued to watch him in the mirror as he worked his way up your neck, flinching when he bit your ear playfully. He laughed quietly in amusement, enjoying every expression you gave him and moved his hands to your hips, squeezing them. 

“Ominis…” Panting slightly, an aroused flush appeared high on your cheek bones, as a needy ache formed between your legs. Pleased hums reverberated against your back, Ominis’s hand traveling upward, brushing your nipple through your clothing. You jerk against him again, a second brush of his thumb pulling a small whimper from you. 

Ominis groaned as he watched you, feeling giddy and a bit clumsy, as if this were your first time all over again. He knew the contours of your body like the back of his hand, but savored every twitch and whimper as his eyes devoured you hungrily. 

He kept his gaze fixed on your face, head spinning at the furrow of your brow and half lidded eyes, lips parted slightly, breathing heavy. His hand gripped your chest fully, sucking at your neck with fervor, a breathy whine escaping his lips at your lustful expression. He detached himself from you momentarily to speak. “You’re telling me…this is what you look like when I touch you?” 

He ground his hard dick into your ass, hands tugging your hips tight against him. “I haven’t even undressed you yet, and you already look like this?” 

Reaching a hand up, you close your eyes and slam his mouth down onto yours in a passionate kiss. He moans into your mouth, disappointed he could no longer see you, but loving the desperation with which you kissed him. Twisting in his arms, you stand on your toes, winding your arms around his neck to keep him close. 

Ominis wrapped his arms around you, stroking your sides as he pushed his tongue past your lips. Suddenly, he rips himself from you, panting a demand into your mouth. “Upstairs. Now.” 

You waste no time grabbing his hand and clumsily leading him up the stairs, both of you tripping in your excitement. He kicked the door shut behind him, tugging on your hand forcefully, bringing you back into another searing kiss. He had one hand on your face and the other gripping a handful of clothing at your waist, spinning you around to push you against the door. 

His hand traveled from your waist, skimming your thigh before lifting your leg to his hip, giving him better access to grind his lower body into you. Moaning, your hands find his hair, pulling on it while you pant his name between sloppy kisses. 

“Is there a mirror in this room?” The words are growled against your mouth and it takes your brain a moment to process his question. 

“A- A  mirror? I- um, n-no I don’t- I don’t think there is.” It was hard to think with him grinding his hard cock into you, creating such delicious friction. He kissed you again, unable to stay detached for too long. 

“Then make one.”

Your legs wobbled at his demanding tone, unsure if you’d even be able to make it to your wand on the bedside table. “M-My wand…it’s oh Merlin- it’s on the table by Ominis- by my side of the bed.” 

Groaning, he tugged you from the door, lips never leaving yours as his hands caressed you every place they could reach. The both of you fumbled your way to the bed, your hand blindly searching the table for your wand, almost knocking it on the floor. 

Tearing your mouth from his momentarily, you transfigure your bureau into a huge mirror sitting on the far wall. The image of your disheveled appearance, with Ominis wrapped around you, appeared in the reflection. 

Ominis whimpered loudly, rolling his hips into you hard. “Merlin, my love, I can’t- you look so good. Did I- Did I do that to you?.”

Your eyes roll back at the awe in his voice, barely able to stand. His hands tug at your clothes with purpose, cursing under his breath. “Get these wretched things off.” 

Tearing at your clothes, you’re eager to comply, ripping the clothes from your body as he does the same. When you finish, he climbs backwards onto the bed, hands tugging you along with him. He lets his hands explore your body as he kisses you, fingers traveling lower, feeling the wetness between your legs. 

“So wet. All for me. All mine.” 

You loved when he got possessive like this, but today especially, he seemed so wild, like a beast in heat. You’re abruptly turned around, Ominis settling behind you once more. Craning your neck, you go to question him, but the words die in your mouth when you catch a glimpse of your reflection. 

All you see is your naked body on full display, Ominis hovering over your shoulder, staring at your reflection hungrily. Becoming a bit self conscious, you try to cover yourself, but your hands are immediately ripped from your body, his grip tight on your wrists. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

Whimpering you try to tug your hands from him. “Ominis, it’s a bit- it’s embarras-“

“I don’t care. Let me look at you.” Growling his words directly into your ear, he releases your hands, peppering wet kisses on your shoulder. Ominis brings one hand to your chest, rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other travels lower, skimming your stomach. Your breathing picks up again as you watch it, anticipation replacing anxiety. 

His hand stops just short of where you want it, stroking the skin possessively. “Don’t even think about closing your eyes. I won’t miss a single second of you coming undone.” 

Before you could respond, his fingers plunged the rest of the way, finally where you wanted them. You automatically close your eyes as you let out a shameless whine, but immediately feel him halt his movements. “What, did I just say?” 

Forcing your eyes open, you train them on your entangled bodies in the mirror. “Good. So good.” 

He continued his movements, fingers driving you higher and higher almost tipping you over the edge, but it wasn’t enough. You start moving your hips against his hand, making sure to rub his leaking cock against your ass. His movements falter and he tucks his face against your shoulder for a moment, breathing frantic and heavy.

“Ominis, my love, I need- Merlin, I need more. Please. More.” Emphasizing your plea with the grinding of your hips, it only takes a moment before Ominis rips his fingers from you, leaning back on his heels a bit to line his aching cock up with your entrance. 

“As you wish, darling.” 

He pushes into you slowly, maintaining enough self restraint to still be gentle, knowing you’d need a moment to adjust to his size. You cried out at the full feeling, a string of whispered encouragements falling from your lips. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but were rewarded with the sight of Ominis, completely wrecked as he shoved himself inside of you. 

Once he was fully seated, he stilled a moment just breathing, his face resting in the crook of your neck. He waited a bit longer than you would have liked, so you attempted to buck against him, trying to coax him into moving. Instead an arm clamped around your front, preventing you from moving, while the other hand came to cover your eyes. 

As you were about to ask, you felt a wetness on your shoulder, startling you. “My love, what’s wro-“ 

“I’m sorry, my darling, I just- I just need a moment.” His voice was quiet, words watery as he kept still, holding you. Tears silently ran down your back, as Ominis released shaky breaths into your skin, arm tightening around you.

“I love you. So much. It’s- Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how much I love you, and this…treasure you’ve given me is- is…my love, I can’t even begin to tell you what it means to me. You deserve so much more than I can give you. I’m sorry, but…I don’t- I don’t think I could live without you anymore.” Ominis sobbed his words into your shoulder, one of your hands clamped on his arm, and the other gripped the back of his head, trying your best to hold him in your current position. 

The tears stopped a moment later, and he lifted his head to place a few loving kisses on your lips, hand still covering your eyes. Sniffing slightly, he nudged your nose with his, whispering an apology. “I’m sorry for ruining the moment, darling.”

Laughing quietly, you card your fingers comfortingly through his hair. “No moment with you is ruined, my love.” 

You wiggle your hips a bit, reminding him of your current situation. “However, I would still like to finish, if you’re up for it.” 

Chuckling in amusement, some of the fire came back to his chest. Kissing your shoulder a few times, he moves to speak directly in your ear. “Always.” 

He starts out slow, grinding his hips into yours, trying to build your desire back up to where it had been. His hand comes off your eyes, and you immediately open them to look at your reflections. Ominis moans as your image floods his mind once more, hips starting to move faster. “So fucking pretty.” 

Shuddering at his praise, needy whines fight their way out of your throat, begging him to go faster. Obliging you, his hips snap forward at a wild pace, his chin hooked over your shoulder to keep you close. “I can’t- my love, I don’t think I can last much longer. I need you to- oh Merlin darling, I need you to cum. Please. I need it so badly.” 

Ominis trails one hand down your front and starts working you in time with his thrusts. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, struggling to keep them open. “No, no, no, my love, please keep your eyes open. I want to -fuck, I want to watch you fall apart. Please, let me. Please?” 

His thrusts get sloppy as he speeds up, fingers stroking you so perfectly. He whispers praises into your ear. Telling you how good you are for him, how much he loves you, how much he needs you, how desperately he wants you to cum. His pleading whispers hurl you over the edge and you force your eyes to stay open for him. 

He sobs at the sight of you, finishing as soon as he feels you convulse around him. Emptying himself inside you, his hips keep twitching and grinding, prolonging both of your pleasure. Lips brush your neck as he speaks praises into your skin, thanking you for staying with him, for loving him. 

The room was silent, save for your combined panting, the two of you trading comforting caresses as you come down. You allowed the spell to fade, Ominis eventually pulling himself from you to find a cloth, not needing his wand to navigate your shared home. Once he returned, he wiped you down with gentle, practiced motions, kissing your skin with an ‘I love you’ every now and then. Once he’d finished, Ominis tossed the cloth into some dark corner of the room, a problem for tomorrow. Laying down, he pulls you into his chest with a pleased sigh, kissing your forehead twice before settling. 

You’re both quiet for a long time, Ominis rubbing lazy, contemplative circles between your shoulder blades. The feel of his fingers and the beat of his heart lulling you into near sleep, only interrupted by his quiet voice. 

“Marry me.” 

Eyes closed, you smile to yourself. So demanding. 

“When?” 

“Tomorrow.”

You huff in amusement, too tired to do much more. “I’ll owl Anne and Sebastian then.”

His lips stretch into a sweet smile against your forehead.

“I already did.” 

[ollypopwrites]

Our Sweet Remedy

Gale x Fem!Tav [AFAB, she/her]

Rating: Explicit [18+ MDNI]

Word count: 2.8k

Request: 69 or DP with Gale by anon!

Warnings: Smut (oral [f and m receiving, face fucking, cum swallowing], Gale’s projection double participates [PiV], double penetration, fingering), dirty talk, Dom!Gale (and he is condescending lmao, but no degradation), after care, safe and consensual check ins. Changing POV (Tav then Gale).

Notes: there is so little plot here I don’t know what to say. No beta reader, only Ao can judge me. Also idk if it’s mirror image Gale uses for his projection? Sorry if that that is not lore accurate.

My Ao3

Tav felt she may have to sit down and chat with Gale about his inability to just lay back and receive every once in a while.

It was post-exam season, and her overachieving fiance, had just spent many days cooped up in the study grading and reading final assignments. But it was finally over and they were celebrating the completion of his first full term as a professor at Blackstaff. A night out so neither of them had to cook and a bottle of wine to end the evening.

With Gale wrapped up in his work, it had been up to Tav to arrange everything. Her plans for the night had so far gone exactly as they ought to, they made it to their reservation for dinner, the walk to and from the tower had been exactly on time and when they got through the door he was amenable to being ordered upstairs.

This was where the plan went awry. She had meant to get on her knees, and give him some well-deserved admiration. Gale, however, after what felt like weeks of being drowned in work and only seeing glimpses of his betrothed was feeling clingy and needy.

Instead of having his cock in her mouth from her knees, she was draped alongside him on the bed. His hands roamed over her sides, taking in each curve, grabbing onto flesh when she did something he particularly liked. The groans and murmured praises spurred her on, happy to be able to please him and offer him some reprieve.

His fingers trailed her thighs, nudging them apart. She allowed it, for the moment, a pleased yet shocked squeal leaving her when he ran through the seam of her, dipping his fingers inside of her when he found her wet.

She pulled off him to lift her head, and remind him she was doing something for him for once when she caught him bringing his fingers into his mouth. Rendered momentarily speechless, body pulsing with a renewed need, Tav licked her lips.

“Humor me?” He asked.

“This — hey!” She felt him grabbing her thighs, attempting to pull her onto his body. “Gale, tonight is supposed to be about you.”

“Believe me, my love,” he said, not giving up his intent so Tav had to acquiesce, “this is for me.”

Another pulse of excitement coursed through her. Not meaning to be outdone, Tav at least acknowledged that this gave her better access to his cock. Her body now settled over his, with her thighs bracketing his sides as he leaned against the headboard with her presented for him as he grabbed at her ass. She worked him into her mouth with renewed vigor, not letting up even when he began his usual maddening work on her with his tongue.

For a while she was too lost to the sensation of him groaning above her to truly acknowledge how worked up she was getting. When she took him further into her mouth, as far as she could, he sucked hard on her clit with a moan and she felt her entire body go rigid.

There was something incredibly enticing about feeling so much pleasure while he was buried in her throat. She pulled up for air and not one to be outdone, Gale went in more fervently.

She was quickly rising to her climax, and she was losing focus. Pumping him in her hand with his head in her mouth, she kept being distracted by the sensations.

“You’re distracting me,” she whined.

No response, just more incessant working of her that made her want to give up entirely on the task at hand and languish in his talents.

Her own hands wrapped around his hips, to grab at his ass and pull him further into her mouth so he would get the message. He hesitated, gently thrust and when she moaned he allowed himself shallow jerky movements. A half-formed groan escaped him and his grip grew tighter on her thighs.

Tav’s mind went blissfully blank, truly degenerate moans came out around the slight muffle of him thrusting in and out of her mouth and then something snapped.

It was hard to tell if Gale gave the hard thrust into her throat or if she pushed herself down onto him, but it hardly mattered. Mouth full of him, her toes curled, her legs shook and her hips had to be held firmly to keep from jolting and moving from the sensation of his mouth.

After it passed she took him out of her mouth to laugh, a bit delirious at what had just happened.

“Alright, my love?”

He sounded strained, and she could see why. His cock was rigid, pulsing slightly and she knew he was close. She hummed an affirmative and without distraction went back to work on rewarding her wizard for a successful first term not thinking much more of the turn of events.

Gale couldn’t forget it.

Perhaps it was that he had not considered how much time he was buried in work and now being able to reemerge he found himself constantly thinking about Tav’s reaction the other night. They went from enjoying each other's company as often as possible to intermittently due to his new work schedule to not at all during the exam season.

But regardless of it being a matter of being pent up or not. He was catching himself thinking about her reaction in the middle of benign conversations, eyes drifting to her mouth and wondering just what her expression had been when she came with his cock in her throat.

Blindly feeling it had been near enough to throw him over the edge. He had to see it.

They had discussed trying things with his ability to conjure a mostly tangible mirror image before. The idea had come to him after the topic of Halsin wanting to be an add on to their partnership while on the road had come up. It had been born of insecurity, a need to be more in order to keep her by his side , but after his concerns were put to rest the idea remained.

It remained on a loop, actually. The idea of filling her so completely that all she could feel was him.

When she climbed in his lap in the study a couple days later, as eager to make up for their time apart as he was, he decided he had to see if he could bring the fantasy to life.

Tav gasped when she felt the somewhat cool touch of the mirror image’s hand on her back. She looked over her shoulder, and the projection smiled at her. Naked and ready already, but not making any other move to touch Tav.

“Hello there,” she said and then turned back to Gale. “We finally giving this a go?”

“Only if you want to,” he said, cupping her face. “Say the word and he will be gone.”

Tav kissed him, and then bit her lip with a cheeky smile. “How do you two want me?”

Gale felt a blazing trail of excitement crawl up his spine, blood rushing. “Naked. On your hand and knees.” He added a gentlemanly, “please,” for good measure.

“Yes, saer,” she teased and crawled out of his lap to strip herself of her clothes and do as she was asked.

For a while he just watched as she took in the sensations of the spectral presence lavishing her in attention. There was a thrill in being able to see his hands grab at the flesh of her ass, to see himself squeeze her thighs and generally admire her body from his seat on the settee. A unique pleasure in watching but still knowing it was all him that made her whine impatiently, and when he allowed the projection to finally touch her she eased into it.

“How does it feel, my love?”

The projection slid fingers through her folds, not quite giving her clit the attention it needed.

“Ever the scholar,” she mused and then moaned as a spectral finger circled her entrance. “Feels good, a bit like the mage hand, honestly.”

Gale hummed.

“Off,” she half demanded tugging down at the hem of his shirt.

“Always so impatient,” he chuckled, removing his shirt anyway.

“And you’re always a tease,” she shot back. One of her hands came up to tug at his waistband this time. “These next.”

“Demanding, as well,” he replied, yet he moved to acquiesce. He sat down in front of her, still on the settee while his mirror image continued to rub and tease, purposely not touching where she truly wanted him to. His hand came to her cheek, “I’d very much like to preoccupy your mouth with something besides bossing me around. How do you tell me to stop?”

“Two taps,” she demonstrated on his thigh for good measure.

There was a challenge in her eyes, one that spurred him on. The urge to take very deep despite his constant reign on himself. Perhaps a hold over from his time dealing with the orb, but if there was one thing Tav was good at it was tempting him.

He pushed his thumb into her mouth, and she sucked on it before opening her mouth to make a show of running her tongue along the pad of his finger.

“The other night,” he said, eyebrows furrowing in sharp focus at the point where his finger met her tongue, “you took me so deeply when you came. Did you like it?”

She hummed an affirmative, her mouth coming off his hand to say, “I loved it.” Her hand reached for the base of his cock, bringing it towards her mouth.

He moved his hand into her hair, gripping tight enough to keep her head from moving any further. Behind her his double stopped immediately. A frozen moment of disbelief crossed over her face.

“Ask me.”

She breathed a half laugh, but the way she licked her lips betrayed her interest in his demand.

“May I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Ask me, nicely.”

A shudder overtook her. “Please, Gale, can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“You may,” he replied with a smile, hand coming out of her hair to allow her to move.

The first lick was teasing, but with every attention she paid to him the projection behind her rewarded her anew. Gale took the time to sit back and enjoy, her clever mouth working him at her own leisure and each soft noise of pleasure while she did made his jaw clench.

When the presence behind her slipped two fingers inside of her, he felt her stiffen and her mouth froze on him. She tried to get back to her task but each stroke of the fingers inside of her seemed to draw her away until she was just sitting there moaning with his cock in her mouth.

“That’s it,” Gale muttered. “Hold me in your mouth, my love, can you do that?”

A gentle nod was her reply and the projection behind her went to work. Gale’s breathing picked up, self-control hanging on by a fraying thread as he simply watched. Pre-cum dribbled out of him and the resulting squeal she gave before running her tongue over the tip of him had him questioning why he was waiting.

Tav’s first orgasm approached, and he watched with fond understanding of exactly how it would go. The rush of sudden impatience as her hips thrust back onto the fingers inside of her, the little noises she would make and the crinkled brow of focus as she let herself hone in on the rising sensation. Beautiful as usual.

“Gale,” she breathed, “I’m going to —“

“Ask.”

Her eyes shot open, meeting his, a new sort of awe struck intrigue perhaps at the commanding tone. “Please,” she said, tongue laving over the tip of him, “please let me come.”

“Open for me,” he said, hand coming back into her hair. When she did as he asked he gently guided her back onto him, “hold me here. Keep me right here while you fall apart.”

The projection was unrelenting, and Gale could hardly keep his hips steady with each little whine that came from Tav’s lips. Enraptured by the view, he was lost when her jaw went a bit slack, tongue pressed against the head of his cock in a last attempt to pleasure him as she tipped over the edge.

The final thread of self-control frayed; the projection of himself quickly readjusted so that the same time Gale thrust into her mouth its cock was also sinking into her heat.

Tav squealed in surprise around both intrusions, and Gale grit his teeth to stave off further thrusting in order to give her the chance to tap out. His lovely Tav simply looked up at him, corners of her lips turned up in a challenging smile even with her mouth full.

The desire to make her as mindless as he felt overtook and in unison both cocks began to thrust. Praise was all he could find himself to speak.

“Yes, my love, yes,” he whispered, “look at you, full of me.” He sucked in a sharp breath when she whined, the sensation causing a sweet vibration. “So beautiful, so good,” he breathed, “with such an eager mouth — and a dripping cunt for me.”

Her eyes blinked, slightly watery with a sharper thrust that he felt gag her slightly. But yet unwaveringly full of awe, full of admiration and devotion. Proof she was loving every second of this as much as him.

The projection pressed over her back, arm coming around to touch her clit in reward. A slightly manic sound left her, desperate and shocked. He knew she was probably still sensitive, he barely gave her time to recover from the last orgasm before he began the double ended onslaught of sensation. Her walls had probably still been fluttering around the slightly spectral intrusion of his double’s cock.

He swallowed hard. He almost wanted to take himself out of her mouth to hear her describe the feeling, but it would be too great a loss he decided. The unending string of muffled moans were enough of an indication for him.

At a particularly harsh thrust from his double he was knocked from her mouth, her head lolling and eyes closing. She was losing her focus.

“Keep my cock in your mouth, Tav,” he commanded, the projection ceasing all movement. Hips and hands stilling mid movement.

“Trying,” she whimpered. “Feels too good —“

Gale tightened the grip in her hair, guiding her back to where he wanted her, his hips thrusting steadily with a groan. “I’ve got you,” he muttered, “stay there.”

The projection started its onslaught again, with renewed gasps and choked off whimpers from Tav starting anew. He was steadily approaching the precipice, but unwilling to venture over until he saw for himself what it looked like to have her truly debauched.

The visage of him behind her was unrelenting, and he could see her beginning to reach that peak. Her eyes gave away the desperation she felt, and when he finally gave her permission he watched first her body begin to slouch unable to keep herself up as her knees slid further apart and her hips twitch.

Tav’s eyes went blissfully blank before they rolled back slightly, his thrusts into her mouth a bit easier as her jaw went slack.

“That's it, Tav,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re perfection.”

Without being able to look away he felt the control finally slip away. His hips thrust up in harsh long strokes that made her gag as he felt himself seize up with the release. It was met with sucking as Tav eased him through it.

Behind her the projection had faded with his lack of concentration. He took a few moments to admire her, lips swollen, glistening with saliva and breathing heavy.

“Come here,” he pulled her up off of the floor, and settled her on his lap. He kissed her sweaty forehead, her cheek and then finally her lips. “Alright?”

She nodded her head.

“I need to hear you say it, Tav.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Let’s stay like this, though, a little longer.”

His hands rubbed over her back, lips pressed to the crown of her head as they caught their breath. The glow of satiation still thrummed through his veins as he focused on the feel of her in his arms. Gratitude bloomed in his chest at her ability to make him feel safe enough to explore his desire to take for once, for trusting him.

“You’re filthy, Gale,” she giggled after a while, still looking a bit dazed.

“You’re one to talk,” he challenged.

“It wasn’t a complaint,” she assured him, letting herself nestle her face into the crook of his neck. “We are definitely doing that again.”

Thank you for reading 💜

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (II)

Chapter 2 : ‘Through me the way to the City of Woe’

Hi, everyone!!! Here we go for a second chapter! Drama is upon us, the plot is plotting! Let me also introduce you to Samantha, Andrew’s partner… I’m sure you’re going to love her a lot…

I hope you like this series! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4510

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Through me the way to the City of Woe, Through me the way to everlasting pain, Through me the way among the lost. Justice moved my maker on high. Divine power made me, Wisdom supreme, and primal love. Before me nothing but things eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.

Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy : Inferno, Canto III, 1321

Andrew was tired, but then he was tired all the time.

As he prepared himself a strong coffee that morning, Sam was busy on her phone, probably going through her social media or reading the news. It didn’t really bother him, he was quiet in the morning anyway, liked to start slowly, to emerge into the world in a silent and gentle way. He was naturally a night owl, it was a struggle every morning to get out of bed early. At least, before the new year of classes started, he could go to work later, no classes schedule early these days.

Elwood was sleeping again. After an early walk around the neighbourhood, the dog was back on his comfortable bed, curled in a black and white ball, softly snoring. Andrew looked at his dog with love, refraining from petting his head, choosing to let him rest instead. He was a good boy, he deserved all the sleep he wanted.

He thought of you as he poured some coffee in his favourite mug. The meeting to distribute classes for the upcoming year was today. Of course, there had been one already before summer, so lecturers could begin preparing their classes if they needed. But some new arrivals would change a few things, some negotiations between lecturers too. Andrew himself was going to switch a class with Colm, another professor from the English department, inheriting a class about Yeats’s poetry instead of biblical studies. If he wasn’t against some religious metaphors – and given the weight of religion in Ireland, Andrew reckoned that he could never escape from it anyway – he was happy to avoid teaching about it.

But you were new at Trinity, and he wanted you to enjoy yourself during your first year. Upon his arrival, Andrew had lacked a guide, someone who would explain to him how things worked, especially the more selfish and ruthless side of the institution. If Trinity was wrapped in traditions, it was also filled with professors who cared little about their colleagues thriving in their academic pursuits, especially if that meant compromising with their own wants. Some professors were kinder than others, more willing to compromise. He’d help you navigate through the meetings, and hoped you could get to choose your classes too…

“My mother wants to invite us on Sunday,” Sam broke the silence that covered Andrew’s kitchen. A blank silent, an emotionless one; neither uncomfortable of comfortable, one that was there to settle on the furniture and in the corners of the room and simply lay there, undisturbed.

“I can’t on Sunday, I’m helping Jon with his film project, and then I’ll have lunch at my parents’. You were supposed to come to lunch with me.”

Andrew turned to Samantha then, sipping on his coffee and grabbing an apple as a breakfast. She said nothing, but her frown spoke volume. She was annoyed, maybe even angry.

“It was planned, baby. I’m sorry, we can go next week.”

“I think I’ll go see my parents anyway,” she said, her tone cold and firm, the one Andrew knew meant that he had no chance of changing her mind. He heaved a sigh, rubbed at his tired eyes with the back of his hand.

“As you wish, I’ll warm my mom.”

“You’re really not coming with me?” she asked, and her eyes were throwing daggers at him.

Andrew bit on the inside of his cheek, his stare growing sterner as well.

“I had planned to spend time with my family, and my brother needs my help. I’ll come with you another time.”

We had planned to spend time with my family… but he didn’t say that out loud, unwilling to start an argument.

She mumbled something under her breath, turning to her phone again; something about ‘a useless film’, and Andrew didn’t want to hear her comment, he knew he wouldn’t like it.

“Won’t you be late for work?” she asked, her voice calmer again, but the remark annoyed Andrew anyway.

“I don’t have classes, and the meeting is at 1pm, I can take my time.”

She could have added a comment on his time blindness, but she didn’t, and he was grateful for it. He relaxed a bit thanks to that.

“Busy day for you today?” he asked, and she heaved a sigh in response.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll come over tonight. Besides, we might go for drinks with the guys from the tech company we’re working with at the moment. Do you remember? I told you about them.”

“Of course, I remember, honey,” he answered with a soft, tender voice.

“I still haven’t finished that bloody logo for them…”

Andrew was brought back to their university days then, when she studied art and he studied literature. When she longed to paint all day long and he fumbled through notebooks and broken guitar strings. When they both had dreams that were too big for them. They had made a choice, had decided to finish their degrees, and not to make the hardest of the sacrifices that would have opened the gates to a life filled with art. Andrew had changed major from music to English during his first year, had passed his exams instead of spending his time in a studio. Samantha had specialized in design and publicity, and had given up her brushes that painted the coasts of Ireland in favour of simpler shapes created on a screen. Andrew couldn’t say that he had regrets about it. He liked his life like this, on the outskirts of Dublin, sharing his love for poetry, writing his own poems, waking up most days by Samantha’s side, even if after all these years she still didn’t want them to move in together, and he couldn’t fathom why. He loved his job beyond measure, always finding a fascinating detail to study, something new to read that would shake his world. He still sang with friends when he felt like it, sometimes wrote music to fit his poetry. He had a full life, a happy one, he couldn’t complain, really.

He thought about the engagement ring he had bought once, when she wasn’t ready to get married. She had said no, it had broken something inside of him. But he loved her, he would be patient, he could wait, and anyway, that was years ago…

“You’ll do an amazing job, you always do,” he encouraged her, but she rolled her eyes.

“You’re too sweet sometimes,” her words were spoken as criticism, not as a compliment. He clenched his jaw.

“Anyway, I’ll be pretty busy too, today,” he said, even though she hadn’t asked about his plans for the day, but then she hardly ever asked. She listened when he spoke about it though, and that ought to be enough. “We have our final meeting to select the classes we’re going to teach. I’m a little worried for Y/N, though.”

“Why? I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

Sam’s tone was a little dry still, he wasn’t sure if she were jealous or simply still annoyed.

“Trinity isn’t always filled with the nicest people. A lot of academics are quite selfish sometimes. I want her to have a nice time teaching. She seems very nice. And I arrived only last year, I know how stressful this situation can be.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.

Andrew threw the core of the fruit in the bin, finished his coffee, washed his mug. He didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to fight. Still, for some reason, he really wanted to talk about you. He had been worried upon learning that someone would share his office now, and he was relieved to find that you were kind, smart, and everything but annoying. He hoped the two of you could become friends.

“Y/N said that she found a poster for the office too! Can’t wait to see what she’s chosen.”

“Nice,” Sam nodded, and Andrew knew she wasn’t paying attention anymore.

He let out a long exhale through his nose, and she didn’t notice. He grabbed his water bottle, crossed the room, stopped to drop a peck on her head as he walked by her.

“Have a nice day, babe. I love you.”

“You too. Love you.”

She didn’t look up from her phone, and it sounded automatic, the way she answered. Andrew remembered when they started dating, about seven years ago. Both in their early twenties, young and naïve and heads full of dreams. She used to stare at him for hours, she used to look him in the eyes every time she said she loved him, to make sure he knew she meant it. He wasn’t so sure she meant it every time she said it anymore…

He pushed the thoughts away; he reckoned that this was his busy, anxious brain talking. Instead, he put on his shoes and his denim jacket, grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He stopped thinking about Sam, and thought about you and the poster you had promised you would bring today, and he walked out of his flat.

The meeting was over, and you seemed happy. Actually, you seemed ecstatic. And it made Andrew happy as well.

He had managed to get the class about Yeats, as planned. He had helped you through the meeting, discreetly, in whispers, but it was enough for you to secure classes you were interested in teaching. This year, you would teach three classes bound directly to your research, a general introduction to 19th century English literature, another about revolutionary writings in which you planned on including a fair share of pamphlets about women’s rights, and another about 19th century novels. You were buzzing with excitement as you walked back to your office, chatting with Andrew and his good friend Colm.

“I have so many things to prepare, but also… I feel very confident in these subjects,” you grinned at the two men.

“You can’t be happier than Andy finally teaching only classes he wanted,” Colm laughed, bright and loud, throwing his head back like a child despite the fact that he was middle-aged man.

Andrew nodded, heaving a relieved sigh.

“I thought Lydia was about to make a scandal…”

“She didn’t want you to leave one of the difficult classes. You’re too popular a teacher for that.”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I definitely am not.”

“You are too! Students love him,” Colm added, turning towards you. “And I will easily admit he’s a good professor, great at explaining things, and always very calm. But let’s be honest, the fact that most of our students are attracted to him helps a lot.”

Andrew looked away, trying to hide that he was blushing, but you laughed anyway.

“Such a pretty mug!” Colm teased, trying to grab Andrew’s chin, but he merely pushed his friend away, laughing.

“Quit your nonsense, would you?” Andrew laughed. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N. He loves talking shite about others.”

“That is not true! Y/N! Please, with your feminine point of view… tell him I’m right.”

You chuckled, shied away, but answered anyway.

“Oh, I’m sure Andrew must be popular, yes. I would have definitely preferred staring at his face when I was a student, compared to the old dinosaurs I had to put up with.”

Andrew was blushing so hard, even his ears were turning a bright shade of red, but he couldn’t refrain his grin nonetheless.

“Please, tell me I don’t fall in that category!” Colm protested, making you laugh.

“No… not quite yet. You still have a couple of years ahead of you,” you joked, and Andrew burst into laughter, while Colm mumbled something under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“Well, children, this is my stop, have a good day,” he mumbled, entering his office while Andrew and you continued a bit further.

“I’m glad you’ll give classes you’re interested in,” Andrew said, giving you a warm smile.

“Thank you so much for helping me throughout the meeting. It was… a lot to take in.”

“Yeah, some people here are proper gobshites.”

You laughed at that, entering your shared office.

“Hmm… I have noticed, yes. You seem particularly fond of Ian,” you chuckled, and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I’m a very peaceful kind of lad, but that arsehole deserves to get some sense being punched into him.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow at that. If you had been teasing, the fact that Andrew had turned more serious as he answered made you intrigued now, rather than playful.

“Really? What did he do?”

Andrew stared at you for a few seconds, wetting his lips before he would answer.

“Nothing illegal, don’t worry. But he’s an arsehole. He will destroy your career and reputation if it serves his interests. Especially if you’re a woman.”

He saw you clenching your jaw at that last remark, and he heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, and he hoped you could see that he meant it.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not you who is at fault. Anyone else I should be cautious about?”

“Mahon, O’Reilly, Evans, Hillstone and Patterson.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You’ve got a whole list ready,” you pointed out.

“I’ve been here for a year. Fool me once, shame on you…”

You slowly nodded, Andrew sighed again.

“Don’t worry, the rest of the bunch are nice though. Most of them are nice.”

“I’m used to it.”

You shook yourself out of the conversation, a smile growing on your features.

“I have something to show you!”

Andrew frowned a little at that, bending to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling as he walked over to your desk. He had grabbed his thermos filled with his favourite brand of tea.

“Really?”

You pulled out a rolled poster, and he laughed.

“Oh! So you did settle on some decoration!” he pointed out, while he opened the buttons of his grey tweed waistcoat. He buried his hand in the pocket of his tweed pants while you fumbled with the empty frame.

He put down his thermos on the edge of your desk, then pushed back a strand of hair that was falling across his eyes, readjusted his glasses upon his nose. You were quick to place the poster in the frame, and you grinned up at him once you were done, right before turning the frame around to show him the poster.

“I love this illustration. I had it hanging in my dorm when I was a student, and then in my first apartment. But my fiancé finds it a little… dark. And he’s not particularly interested in literature so… he doesn’t really get it. Anyway!”

You stopped your little rambling, grabbed the frame, and showed it to him.

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, immediately recognising Gustave Doré’s illustration of Dante’s Inferno.

The black and white print showed Virgil and Dante standing on the edge of a precipice, staring at a hurricane carrying the souls of sinners, talking to a couple crying in their everlasting punishment. Andrew had not read the book since his own college days, but he remembered that this was the punishment for those guilty of lust.

“Do you like it? Can I hang it?” you asked, an excited smile he found adorable on your lips. “I thought the black and white would fit your poster quite well.”

“Sure, go ahead. Need help?”

But you were already placing the frame against the wall.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised by your choice,” Andrew inspected the print, leaning against your desk, his hands still in his pockets. “I didn’t picture you as a fan of Dante… especially given his… conservative thoughts.”

“I love Inferno. I’m not going to pretend that I love the entirety of the Divine Comedy, but I love Dante’s image of hell. The haunting part of it. The way it is structured. Of course, it’s medieval thinking about issues that have radically changed now, but… It was a long time ago. If I don’t appreciate all of his thoughts, I do admire his imagination. Besides, it was a heavily political book. I’m surprised you don’t give him more credit for that.”

He answered your teasing smile with a genuine one.

“I do remember a little bit of that. Last time I read it, though… I was a student and hadn’t chosen to suffer through it. Besides… I think I was a little too young to understand it fully.”

You nodded.

“I’ve read it many times. I don’t know, there’s something… something about it that draws me in. Not the Christian moral lessons, of course. But just… I don’t know… there’s something fascinating about it. And I often wonder what our version of hell would be today. If we kept the structure, if we kept the place Dante created… how would we view those who are imprisoned there? Would we find their pain justified? Would we find it unfair to punish them like this? And who would we place in there? If we replaced the references to people Dante knew by people from our world, who would be stuck in Hell?”

Andrew pondered on these questions while he kept on listening to you. He had a few names in mind, for sure. He smiled at the thought, didn’t interrupt you while you babbled away about the book, about the things you loved and disliked about it.

“And I love Doré’s illustrations so much! They’re haunting, just like the book. And this one in particular, with Francesca and Paolo… like… their story is so sad, but even Dante was touched by them. Even if the moral in his book is outdated now, goes against what I believe… I’d like to think that we’d turn their story around today, that we wouldn’t condemn their love or include such a warning towards fiction through them, you know… with the whole reference to Arthurian myths and everything… don’t know if you remember that… but anyway… what would we think of them today? I’d like to believe we would find their punishment in hell unfair.”

You trailed off after that. You were nervous when you looked at him, pushing some of your hair behind your ear.

“Sorry for the ramble,” you apologised, but Andrew frowned in response.

“No need to apologise. Why would you?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. Your thoughts are very interesting.”

You blinked at him, as if surprised. You gave him a bright smile, growing a little shy.

“Right, thanks. But we should get back to work.”

Andrew nodded, moved away from your desk and bent again to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling.

He looked at you as you stared at the poster for a moment. He was happy you were the one sharing his office, you were getting along well, you were so nice, you were so smart and always seemed to have something interesting to say. He just wanted to talk to you more about this book you loved, but you were right, you both had a lot of work to do. He should focus on this article he was reading before the meeting. Instead, he looked at you for a moment longer. And before his brain pushed the thought away, before Samantha was on his mind again, he didn’t fail to notice how beautiful you were.

He looked for his thermos across his desk, furrowing his brow when he didn’t find it there. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself when he remembered where it was.

He walked over to your desk again, reached for it while you were still focused on the poster. But his fingers got clumsy as he threw you a glance, and it fell across your desk. Some of the warm beverage was spilled on the wooden surface.

“Shite! God!”

You turned around at the sound, but Andrew didn’t see your eyes growing slightly round. Instead, as a reflex, he had grabbed your phone and papers to secure them, was already looking for some tissues to clean the mess he had made. You reached for some Kleenex tugged inside your backpack.

“Christ, I’m so sorry,” Andrew profusely apologised, hurrying to clean your desk too. “Sorry, I’m so… long, clumsy limbs… I’m so sorry…”

He cursed at himself under his breath, didn’t look at you, fiercely blushed. Always count on him to ridicule himself…

“That’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you reassured him, and when Andrew looked up again, you had an earnest smile on your lips. “It was just an accident, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry…”

Andrew was so flustered, so embarrassed… He finished cleaning, handed you back your things without making eye-contact, rubbed at his collarbone through his shirt as soon as his hands were empty again.

When he finally looked up once more, you were still smiling.

“It’s nothing, Andrew. It’s merely a little bit of tea. Besides, you’ve saved the most important items on my desk. Nothing to be so upset about.”

The anxious side of him had kicked in, he couldn’t help it. He ran his fingers through his hair several times while he forced out a chuckle.

“I know, sorry…”

Andrew walked back to his desk, looked at his computer screen while he heard you chuckling lightly. He saw in the corner of his eyes that you were fondly shaking your head at him.

Why did he have to always make a fool of himself, huh?

All you wanted to do was to rush home to share the good news with Frank.

You had managed to get interesting classes, including some linked to your research… you were so excited to get to work and begin teaching in October.

When you came home, Frank was on his computer, working. He kissed you when you leaned closer, but focused on his screen again, and so you decided to wait for dinner to talk to him about your day.

You took a shower, prepared dinner. Frank was still working, he only stopped when you told him dinner was ready.

“Smells nice,” he said with a smile, squeezing your hand, and you took the gesture for a silent thank you.

“Thanks!”

Frank remained silent as he started to eat, and so you jumped on the opportunity to speak about your day.

“The meeting about classes and lectures was today. And it went so well!” you started babbling away, Frank looking up at you with an emotionless gaze. “I’ve managed to get topics I’m interested in, and I’m going to teach about my research too! I mean… not directly about my research, but problematics bound to it! I’ll have a class about the male gaze and female gaze dynamics, another about feminism and feminist essays…”

“That’s great, babe.”

“Yeah! Andrew helped me navigate through the meeting quite a bit, and he got the classes he wanted too, so…”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah! And…”

“Could you hand me the salt, please?”

“Sure. I’m also gonna work quite a lot on the 19th century, which is great! I like that period, especially for novels. And that means that I can include lots of female writers, like Austen and the Brontë sisters, obviously… but I can also spend some time on feminist movements, cause that’s really an important century for them.”

“Good, good…”

“Yeah, that’s grand, and…”

He heaved a sigh, and you grew quiet.

“You’re alright?” you asked, trying not to show your disappointment.

You knew that this question meant that the conversation would focus on him for a while, and you might not be able to talk about today again.

“I… Y/N, we need to talk.”

Your heart sank.

That was not the answer you were expecting…

“Talk?”

“About us.”

“What? What do you mean? About the wedding, you mean?”

“No, I…”

He hesitated, looked at you for a moment, before putting his fork down.

“I think we should break up.”

And that was it. Words that were shattering your world spoken like they were easy to let out, like they didn’t mean the earthquake they produced. You merely stared for a moment, waiting for Frank to tell you that he was joking, to take his words back. But he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he went on. “But I think we should go our separate ways.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? We’re engaged! We’re going to get married!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N… I know it’s pretty sudden…”

“PRETTY SUDDEN! WE’RE ENGAGED! YOU’RE EATING MY FUCKING FOOD!”

“There’s no need to shout…”

“NO NEED TO SHOUT! OF COURSE, THERE IS A NEED TO SHOUT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

“I’m sorry… but it’s best if we don’t stay together.”

“Why? What happened? You… We’re supposed to get married…”

“I’ve met someone else, Y/N.”

Your eyes grew round, and suddenly all air had left your lungs.

“You… you’re cheating on me?!” you asked, your voice lowering again, your emotions bubbling too much, tears rising to your eyes.

“No! No! No!” Frank defended himself, shaking his head vehemently. “Nothing happened. I swear, nothing happened… but… Y/N, if I am able to feel this way for another woman, then we shouldn’t get married.”

“For how long have you known her? Who is it?”

“You don’t know her. We’ve met through work.”

“How long?”

“Not long… a few weeks.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing your arms before your chest.

“A few weeks? You’re trying to make me believe that you want to leave me for a woman you’ve met weeks ago?!”

“You don’t understand, we’re in love…”

You felt your head starting to spin, you had buried it in your hands.

This was a nightmare, just a bad dream, you would wake up and everything would get back to normal, you would tick all the right boxes again…

“What do you mean in love?”

“I love her. I know that it sounds… mental, but I do. And if I can fall in love with someone else like this… then you and I shouldn’t get married. It means that I… that I don’t love you enough to marry you.”

“You’ve got to be joking…”

“I’m not. I’m sorry, but I’m serious.”

“What’s her name?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, no… Do you want to be with her?”

“Yes. But I don’t know if she’ll want to be with me.”

“Really?”

“She’s not single either.”

You laughed then, tears streaming down your face too, unable to cope with the tidal wave of emotions that was drowning you.

Denial, pain, betrayal, anger, sadness…

“I’ll gather my things,” he said, standing up while you started shaking on your chair, struggling to breathe.

You didn’t even notice that he was moving away, that he was packing… you remained frozen on your seat, sobbing, while Frank was gathering fragments of your lives and tearing them away from your space.

He only reappeared about an hour later in the kitchen, the rest of your meal was cold. You hadn’t moved an inch.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

And then he was gone.

[fanfic-wonderland]

This Is War {Fred Weasley} - Part 2

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: After avoiding Fred for so long, (Y/N) finally has to face him again when they're paired up for a Potions assignment.

Word count: 7.8k

Read part one here.

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“Are you still not going to talk to him?” Daphne asks me during lunch, the same way she has asked me every day for the past few weeks.

Ever since I told her about my little… moment with Fred, she hasn’t stopped talking about it one way or another, even when I’ve asked her plenty of times not to. She seems to have become obsessed with the idea of him and I getting together because, according to her, we’d make “an oddly cute” couple, and also “because there is nothing interesting happening in my life and I want to live through you”. I don’t know what’s gone wrong with her head; I have made it extremely clear that the kiss meant nothing to me, that it was just something that happened in the heat of the moment when I was dampened and terrified and he was the only one there giving me the slightest bit of comfort. Either she still doesn’t get that, or she just doesn’t want to. “For the last time, Daphne Greengrass,” I say through gritted teeth. “No. And It’s the last time I’ll say it.”

Daphne whines like a toddler. “But why? It’s clear that he wants to talk to you!”

The kiss happened nearly two weeks ago. After I fled the scene, Fred made numerous attempts to approach me, but I would always find a way to cut the conversation short or avoid it at all costs. He seemed to finally get the hint because It’s been a few days since his last attempt. The only one who hasn’t gotten the hint yet is the girl sitting across from me. “He has his own life to worry about. I’m pretty sure he dropped it already, and so should you.”

She pouts as I stab a piece of pork chop and chew on it. “How are you so sure if you haven’t even talked to him about it yet? Maybe he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and he’s just waiting for you to reach out to him.”

“Forget it, Daphne, there’s nothing to talk about,” I state firmly. “I made a stupid little mistake, that’s all. It’s not like I’m going to go ahead and do it again.”

“I bet you want to, though,” she mutters as she drinks from her cup. 

Her voice is low, and she thinks she’s sneaky, but I hear her. I refrain from saying anything else about it, though. It’s no use trying to convince her otherwise.

Fortunately, Daphne does not bring him up for the remainder of our lunch, nor does she bring him up while we learn how to turn vinegar into wine during Charms, or when we’re fighting not to fall asleep during History of Magic. I begin to think that maybe she’s finally gotten the hint until we arrive at the Potions classroom.

Professor Snape places a small bubbling cauldron on top of his desk as we all walk in—Gryffindors on one side of the room and Slytherins on the other. Through the corner of my eye, I spot the unmistakable pair of redheaded twins, sitting two tables to my right, and I fight the urge to turn and see if one of them is looking. “Settle down, all of you,” Professor Snape says in his usual dull voice. “Today, aside from your usual class, you will be placed in pairs for a special project. You will have to work with another student and brew the most powerful Truth Serum to ever exist—the Veritaserum. While it is very easy to sneak it into someone’s pumpkin juice, the brewing process is long and complex. That is why you’ll be working with a partner to make this potion. The longer its effect, the higher your grade.”

A Gryffindor boy raises an arm and Snape turns to him with a sneer. “Does that mean we have to work on it through Spring break?”

“Unless you want to fail, then yes, you should start on the first day of Spring break.”

Nearly every student in the classroom, including Daphne and I, groans in protest. Snape’s lips curl up into a nasty smirk. “That’s quite enough, I do not need to hear your whining. Get it done, or else you fail my class.”

As students begin to look around for their desired partners, I link my arm with Daphne’s. “It shouldn’t be too hard once we combine our geniuses.”

Daphne laughs and agrees. Professor Snape’s eyes fall on us for a quick second before he adds, “I forgot to mention that this is not a friendship project. This time, I’ll be assigning the pairings.”

The class groans even louder than the first time. “Enough,” Snape holds a hand up and we quiet down. “Perhaps when you learn to behave in my class I’ll give you the privilege of choosing your partner, but right now you'll work with what I give you. Now…”

Snape taps the cauldron with the tip of his wand twice and two small pieces of paper fly out of the cauldron. He catches them mid-air and begins to read aloud. “Johnson, Angelina and Warrington, Cassius.”

And then he does the same thing with the rest of the students. Daphne and I frown at each other once we hear her name being called alongside Alicia Spinnet but I guess it was expected that we’d be separated for this assignment from the beginning. The problem is, I realize as I scan the room, that there’s no one else I’d like to work with, and the people who would be fairly tolerable are already paired up with someone else. This assignment is looking to be the worst of the year so far. 

“Weasley, Fred and (Y/L/N), (Y/N).”

The absolute worst.

Daphne gasps quietly once she hears the names, her eyes on the brink of popping out. “Did he just…”

“Uh-huh,” I can’t construct a proper reaction. It feels like someone has just slapped me.

I make the mistake of looking over at Fred only to find that he’s already staring at me. He shrugs innocently but he’s clearly trying to hold back a smile while George is dying from laughter behind him. I glare at them and turn away. It can’t be a coincidence that we ended up working together. I refuse to believe that life is this cruel. “I don’t get it,” I protest as we walk out of the classroom. “How in the bloody hell do I get paired up with the person I wanted to avoid the most?”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Daphne suggests, like there actually is a bright side. “At least you’re not working with Crabbe or Goyle.”

“You know, I think at this point I’d rather be working with either of them. At least they’re tame.”

“Yeah, and they’ll probably be more concerned with trying to eat your lunch or something.”

I laugh at her words but it is still not enough to distract me entirely from the situation. Because at the end of the day, I’m still paired up with Fred Weasley for an assignment I could do independently. “What have I possibly done to deserve something like this? There’s no way that life would just pull something like this out of nowhere.”

Daphne places a hand on my shoulder. “I did tell you to clear things out with him.”

I sigh. “You did. Do you think I’m being punished for avoiding the situation?”

“I totally do,” She nods. “Well that, or maybe it was just that Felix Felicis I drank in the morning taking effect,”

“True,” I agree… and then I halt my steps. “Wait, what did you just say?”

She stops walking as well, blinking cluelessly. “Oh, remember that Felix Felicis I brewed months ago? Well, I drank some of it today to help me with the Transfiguration test and I guess I did a great job brewing it because I seem to keep getting good luck everywhere I go. Neat, right?”

“And you’ve also been crying about Fred and I not talking for weeks,” I grab her by the collar of her shirt and she shrieks. People passing by shoot us odd looks but I’m too busy throwing daggers at her. “You were wishing for something like this to happen and of course, as soon as you drink a bit of Liquid Luck, it happens.”

“Well…” She tries to think of something before she gives up. “Okay yeah, so maybe it was kind of my fault, but you know what? You’ll thank me soon enough.”

“Right now I want to murder you,” I push her back and start walking away.

“Oh, hush, It’s not that big of a deal,” Daphne catches up. “So what if you have to work with him on a potion that takes too long to brew? So what if you have you spend your free time with him and—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” I cover my ears. “I do not want to hear it!”

Daphne leans closer and lowers her voice. “Well, you better do something about that because I think he’s waiting to talk to you.”

I follow her eyes and turn to look at Fred, who is usually walking alongside George and Lee Jordan but now is on his own leaning against a wall, hands buried in his pockets. He doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s staring at me and I have to turn away. “I guess I do have to talk to him at some point. There’s no way out of this…”

She shakes her head slowly and I sigh. It takes every bit of me to turn back around and start walking towards him, but I do it. For the first time in what feels like so long I’m standing face-to-face with him; the two of us just stare at each other for a few moments. “Hi,” Fred breaks the silence.

“Hi,” I say flatly.

There’s a slight flirtatious glint in his eyes all of a sudden. “So… we’re all coupled up now, eh?”

I blink. “Can you not phrase it like that? Anyway, as you already know we have to work on this potion during our Spring break.”

Fred nods slowly. “Right…?”

“So, that means that we’ll have to meet outside of Hogwarts.”

“You want me to come over to your house, then?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I tense up. I could never consider asking him to come over to my house, not even jokingly. That place is cold and empty, and my family is not the most welcoming with families like Fred’s. Even if I’m not fond of Fred, I would never want to put him through something like that. “Your house sounds like the better option, if you don't mind.” I say.

Fred raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes, why?”

He shrugs. “I just think that maybe my house won’t be to your taste, that’s all.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. As long as your family doesn’t mind, I can stop by.”

“They won’t. Here—” Fred takes out a folded parchment paper and hands it to me. “Here’s my address. I’ll see you, then?”

“Yeah. Until then.”

We walk away from each other and I’m feeling nauseous all of a sudden. 

Bloody hell, I have no idea how I’ll survive this…

***

The first day of Spring break arrives in the blink of an eye. Part of me is glad that I don’t have to spend my day at the manor because I’d rather be anywhere else, even Fred Weasley’s house. The other good thing is that, since I can finally use magic outside of school, I can simply apparate anywhere whenever I want. We decide to meet close to sunset, so around five thirty I gather everything I need and I get ready to disapparate from my house without the need to remind my parents where I’ll be. I’m not even sure if they’re still around (or if they even care) but I don’t think of them as the horrible sensation of apparating begins. Everything twists and turns around me, including myself, until finally, I stand amid sunshine, peace, and fresh air. I take it all in once I regain my composure. The place is a beautiful meadow and in it, a few yards away from me, stands a very peculiar, very lopsided house. It’s several stories high, with about four or five chimneys perched on top of its red roof, and a nice open yard at the entrance. I look around to make sure that there are no other houses around. This has to be it.

I walk toward it, careful not to bother the chickens wandering around the yard. There’s a sign near the entrance that reads THE BURROW and that’s how I’m certain that I’m in the right place. Fred specifically wrote that name down on the instructions. 

Now that I know that I’m at Fred Weasley’s house, I start getting a tad bit nervous. “Come on, (Y/N), you got this. You’re just here to work on a school project, It’s no big deal.” After taking a few deep breaths, I finally find the courage to knock on the door. For the first few seconds, nothing happens, but soon I begin to hear faded footsteps coming from inside. They start sounding closer, and soon enough someone is opening the door. It’s an older woman with lovely red hair, slightly shorter than me. I instantly know that I am staring down at Fred’s mother. “Hello, dear. You must be (Y/N),” She greets me warmly and I nod with a courteous smile. “Oh, good, how wonderful that you’ve made it! Fred has talked so much about you these past few days.”

“Has he?”

“Oh, yes—come in, come in!” Mrs. Weasley steps aside so I can cross the threshold. “And he wanted everything to look good before you arrived. It usually takes a lot to get him to do his chores, but this time he started on them without me even asking him, so I bet you’re quite a special girl. Anyway, you set your stuff over there on the sofa, make yourself comfortable, and I’ll fetch him. Dinner’s almost ready so I hope you’re hungry.”

She gives me one final smile before she walks up the stairs while calling Fred’s name, but my mind can only spiral around the things she was saying a moment ago. My face feels like It’s boiling, and it shouldn’t be, but the fact that his mom thinks that I’m a ‘special girl’ to him makes me…

Nope. No. No. You need to snap out of it, girl.

I focus my attention back on my surroundings. Everything is so different from my house… and yet, somehow, It’s so much better. The living room is welcoming and cozy and homey. The smell of roast beef and potatoes fills the air, making my stomach grumble. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was earlier. I sit down on the sofa and wait patiently for Mrs. Weasley to come back. I’m staring at the family clock, watching the golden hand with Fred’s face on it pointing at the word HOME, until I hear quick footsteps coming down the stairs. I turn to look at Fred’s real face this time. “I see you were able to get here without getting lost on the way,” He says.

I pry my attention away from the fact that his hair is dripping wet and sticking to his forehead like he just got out of the shower. “I did not doubt myself for a moment. Shall we start working on the potion so we can get it over with?”

“Wow, you really don’t want to be here, do you?” Fred chuckles. “We’re not even going to wait for dinner first?”

I sigh. “I just don’t think It’s a good idea for me to stay too long.”

“Because you kissed me.” He doesn’t say it like a question.

“Can you not say that so loud?” I shush him, making sure his mom is still out of sight, but his grin does not falter. I don’t even want to imagine how red my face is. “But… yes, kind of.”

“Well, I’m willing to look past it if you want me to,” He says. “Unless there’s another reason you don’t want to stay?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “What other reason could there be?”

“I guess I thought that maybe you’d think my house isn’t as nice as yours…”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You really have to stop assuming that I have some sort of superiority complex over you. And for your information, I think your house is lovely.”

Fred looks surprised for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “I probably like it a lot more than mine.”

He stares at me for a second but before either of us can say anything else, Mrs. Weasley comes back to the room. “Fred, why don’t you show (Y/N) around the rest of the house? I’ll call you all back here once the food is ready.”

Fred turns to me. “You want to?”

I cannot bring myself to say no in front of his mother. “Sure,”

He starts his little house tour from the top floor, which happens to be where his younger brother, Ron, and his best friend, Harry Potter, stay. There are five floors in total but there’s not much to see. It's mostly just the bedrooms, but the house is still larger than what I had envisioned. The family is much larger as well. “This is the second floor, and our last stop,” Fred says once we take the last step. There are two bedroom doors on this floor level. “And this is mine and George’s room. I’ll let you get a sneak peek of our latest invention if you behave.”

I roll my eyes as he opens the door. “Gee, what an honor.”

Fred and George’s bedroom is somehow almost exactly as I had imagined it—not that I’ve been spending time imagining what their room looks like. It’s a simple room: it has two identical beds, each with a bedside table, a large wardrobe, some posters pasted around the walls, and a desk holding stuff… lots of different stuff. There is a particular lingering smell of gunpowder around and I cannot even begin to imagine the things that happen inside this walls. I step inside and glance at the mess on the desk. Amongst everything else, I see a briefcase with the words Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes engraved on the side sticking out from the rest of the things. I point toward it with a questioning look. “Ah,” He clasps his hands together. “I see you’ve already spotted our products.”

“Your products?”

“George and I invent joke products,” Fred explains. “We’ve actually started testing them out at Hogwarts recently.”

“Really, at Hogwarts? And you don’t get in trouble for it?”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” Fred wags his finger practically on my face. He walks to the case and opens it; a bunch of bottles, vials, and boxes of all kinds jump out all at once and set themselves in front of us like a magic exhibition. “But anyway, we mostly just want feedback. We’re planning to open our own joke shop after we graduate and we want everything to be right.”

“Huh,” I never would’ve guessed. When he mentioned their “inventions” I instantly assumed he was talking about crafts or something. I know Fred and George love to get under people’s skin with their little pranks, but I never thought that they loved pranking so much they wanted to build a living around it. But then again, we’ve never been close, so all I know about them is what I've seen back at the castle, which I also tend to avoid.  

As I go over the products in silence, my eyes get drawn to the sight of a small brown box. It doesn’t have a label or a logo or any eye-catching design, but it has COMB-A-CHAMELEON handwritten on it and that’s enough to get me intrigued. I look back at him, asking for his permission, and when he motions for me to go on with his hand, I grab it. Inside I can only find an ordinary-looking hairbrush, which throws me off because I was expecting something more, I don’t know, magical? I guess my confusion is clear because Fred laughs lightly while I just keep staring. “Would you like to try it out?” He asks.

I look up at him warily, looking for any signs of malice, but all I can find is a redheaded boy who seems excited by the idea of me using one of his products. “I don’t know if I should…”

“I can promise you that It’s nothing too bad.”

“You don’t strike me as trustworthy when it comes to these things.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Fred admits. “But I’m telling the truth this time, I promise. Go ahead, try it.”

I almost back down from it but I can’t help feeling bad just thinking about it. Fred looks like a kid who attempted to make breakfast by himself and is waiting for his mom to eat it. So I grab the brush and, hesitantly, I start combing my hair. A few brushes are enough to do the trick. Soon enough, I feel some tugging happening around my head. The process lasts a few seconds and then I feel the weight of my hair go down, but it feels lighter. Fred rubs his chin while he stares at me. I have no idea how I look but he nods in approval. “Alright,” He motions toward the mirror hanging from the door. “Go ahead and take a look.”

When I turn to look, I gasp. I expect my hair, which I had let fall down my back in curls earlier, to look like a bird’s nest by the time I’m done, but much to my surprise it is now pulled back into a nice long braid. “Fred,” I run my fingers through it.  “This is very impressive! And you guys came up with this from scratch?”

“Yup. Every single one of them.” He sounds proud of himself and his brother. And he should be.

“What else do you have?”

“Oh, tons of stuff,” He reaches and grabs another box, the same color but slightly bigger. This one says SKIVING SNACKBOX in big bold letters and when he opens it there's a ton of what looks like individually wrapped pieces of candy. Fred takes a single piece and removes the wrapping. One side is an orange color while the other one is purple. “This is our most tested product so far. When you eat the orange half of the candy you start to feel ill—nothing too bad, just enough to get you out of class—and then once you’re finally out, you take the purple half and you feel better again, ready to enjoy your free time. Brilliant, I know.”

“And you’re aware that this leaves a horrible example for younger generations, right?”

“Yeah, we hope so,” He rubs his palms together and it reminds me of a cheesy villainous moment. Then, he offers me the open candy in his hand. “Wanna try it out?”

I roll my eyes and push his hand away. “I can’t believe that you and your brother are throwing your talent away by making… these.”

“Wait, did I just hear a compliment in between all of that?” Fred leans close with a hand behind his ear, pretending to be bad at hearing.

My eyes roll for a second time because this boy just loves to make my eyes… nevermind. “All I’m saying is that maybe you should focus your attention on creating something more… useful?”

Fred pretends to look offended. “This is useful! Why spend so many hours in class when you can be using the time to do more important things, like playing games or sleeping?”

“Of course,” I say sarcastically. “It’s not like we need education or anything,” I then spot a bigger box, this one a bright pink color, and point to it. “What’s that?”

When he sees what I’m pointing at, he smirks at me. “Those are our WonderWitch products. They come in a variety; we have things like pimple vanishers to love potions.”

I quirk a brow. “Love potions?”

“The best love potions around,” He says, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he leans against his desk. “Although I don’t think you really need one.”

I nearly gape at him. “What do you mean?”

Fred shrugs. “I think Malfoy may already have the hots for you. I see the way he looks at you.”

“Excuse me?!” In what world does Draco Malfoy like me? And in what world would I ever reciprocate those same feelings?

“I’m joking,” Fred chuckles at my mortified expression. “But I’m sure there are guys at the school who are head over heels for you.”

I scoff. “I doubt it.”

He stares down at me, and I swear we’re standing closer to each other than before. “I wouldn’t.”

I blink a few times. I want to say something back but I do not know what. What do you even say to that? Luckily, Mrs. Weasley’s voice coming from downstairs, announcing that dinner is ready, fills in the blank space and I take the opportunity to close the subject. “We should go.”

We exit the twins’ bedroom but before we can head down the stairs, I halt my steps. “Wait,” I point to the other door. “You never told me whose room that is.”

Fred turns to look at it. “Oh,” Something flashes across his expression and I’m unsure what it is. “No one’s. Come on, Mom’s waiting.”

He keeps walking and, although I find his reaction odd, I follow him without saying anything else.

***

I have never been close to my family. Due to our differing ideals, my parents and I always end every single conversation with an argument, so we try to speak to each other as little as possible. My brother is kind of walking along the same path, unfortunately, and although he’s a bit more tolerable, a lot of times it still feels like I’m talking to a wall. Dinner, specifically, has always been a horrible time, because I get to sit there and listen to them complain about muggle-borns, support the Ministry and its lies, praise my brother for following their footsteps, and criticize me for never wanting to be like them.

With the Weasleys, it feels completely different. It feels nice and comfortable, and the topic of blood status is not brought up once. Their dynamic feels so natural and like how a true family should be. Mrs. Weasley scolds her children every five minutes but you can tell that she loves them more than anything else. She also likes to insist on me grabbing more servings, and if my stomach was bottomless I’d probably eat every single thing on the table. Mr. Weasley is fascinated by my knowledge of the muggle world and how it functions, although It’s mostly just things I’ve learned from Muggle Studies. Contrary to what I’ve always thought of her, Ginny is pretty cool. She and I share similar tastes and her impressions are hilarious and spot on. Ron is a bit awkward and is mostly just eating and talking to Harry Potter, who happens to be staying over for spring break, but now and then he asks me a question if he’s interested enough in what I’m saying. The twins get in trouble several times, one of them being when they decided to sneak a fake spider into Ron’s plate, which made him nearly faint. And although I’ve been acting like a total bitch to him for so long, Fred makes sure that I don’t feel left out, often trying to include me in the conversation or playfully teasing me in a way. But I find that I don’t mind it; It’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.

After we’re done with dinner, I am forced to decline Ginny’s offer to go flying for a bit because we still have to work on the potion, which I had almost forgotten about by the time Mrs. Weasley brought in dessert, but I tell her that we can try and get together another time to do so. Fred and I head directly back to his room so we can get it over with. I'm surprised to discover that Fred works really well as a team when he actually commits to it. “Can I ask you a question?” I ask him while I add and stir Powdered Moonstone into the cauldron.

He thinks about it but not for long. “Only if I can ask one back.”

Of course, there’s always a catch with him. “Okay, whatever,” I say defeatedly. “Whose room is the one across from yours?”

Fred sighs as his usual playful demeanor suddenly drops for a moment, but he tries to hide the fact that the question has any effect on him as he helps me slice Adder's Fork. “It’s Percy’s, my older brother,” He finally answers. “He kind of doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Did something happen?” I ask without thinking. And then I realize how nosy I sounded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, It’s none of my business—”

“No, I don’t mind,” He shakes his head. He’s being genuine. “You know about the whole thing happening with Harry and the Ministry of Magic, right?”

“About You-Know-Who coming back and the Ministry feeding lies to everyone because they’re cowards?”

Fred nods. “Pretty much. Well, Percy is siding with the Ministry because he's a git, and he and Dad had a very bad argument about it a few weeks ago. Then he just left and we haven’t heard from him since.”

“Oh, wow,” I say with wide eyes. “That must’ve been hard for all of you.”

“Especially for mom. She’s cried every single day after he left.” 

There’s a hint of sadness in his tone that I’ve never heard from him before and I can’t shake away the uncomfortable feeling I get from it. I guess I’ve never thought of Fred Weasley as someone who gets sad now and then, who maybe even cries when he’s upset, but at the end of the day, he’s still human just like me. “I’m so sorry.” I can’t help but say.

“You don’t have to be,” Fred says, giving me a reassuring smile. “But anyway, now It’s my turn,” His tone changes drastically back to its typical self. “Why didn’t you want me to visit your house? Because I saw how tense you got when I mentioned it.”

“Simple,” I slightly raise the heat on the cauldron after Fred drops the Adder’s Fork into the mixture. “My family is not very pleasant to be around with.”

“I guess I kind of figured. Are they…?”

“Blood supremacists? Yes,” I answer. “The worst kind possible. That’s why as soon as I graduate I want to find my own place and cut all ties with them immediately. They know I want to, and they don’t care, either.”

Fred remains silent for a moment while he adds the Jobberknoll Feathers. “I didn't know that.”

I shrug. “I guess I've grown used to it. I've had to put up with them my whole life, but I'm glad I'll soon have the chance to go my own way.”

“Another question,” He says, almost like he’s asking permission to do so, but he doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Are your parents Death Eaters?”

The question stings, and I consider lying for a quick moment, but I slowly nod.

Fred’s eyes grow big. “Bloody hell.”

“Yup,” I say. It’s a conversation I don’t want to have with anyone but he would’ve found out eventually. It’s a shock he didn't know about it already. “That's why people tend to have a bad image of me once they find out. It's bad enough that I'm in Slytherin, people already think I'm a delinquent just by that alone. And that’s why I rather just not talk about my family.”

The room goes quiet for a second while I stir the potion clockwise. Then, Fred says, “Well, congrats. You’ve actually made me feel bad.”

“What for?”

“Before getting to know you better, I didn't like you for the mere fact that I thought you were an uptight Slytherin, just because you seemed to dislike mine and George’s pranks,” He explains.

I chuckle, reminiscing about the ongoing war between both of our Houses and all the times Fred and George managed to piss us off. “Hey, I don’t hold it against you. You’re not the only one. Besides, I  didn’t like you either, so we’re even.”

Fred smirks. “Didn’t?”

“I guess you’re not… as bad as I thought,” I confess, avoiding his eyes.

“Huh,” He says. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.”

***

When I leave the Burrow, there’s a hollow feeling in my chest. As soon as I’m greeted by the cold presence of my parents back at the manor, I realize how long I’ve always longed for something like what I experienced tonight. In a single day the Weasleys made me feel like I'd been a part of their family forever, something my own family has yet to accomplish. 

The Easter break goes by way too slowly, and for me that’s not necessarily a good thing. I spend a lot of alone time at the manor, although sometimes I meet up with Daphne, and on the second to last day, I go back to the Burrow one more time because there is still one important step to complete in the brewing process, which is to get the potion to absorb moonlight on the night of the full moon. But we manage to do it without trouble, although, by the time I'm back at the manor, there is something deep down still troubling me. 

When we’re finally back at Hogwarts, Fred finds me to test out the potion the day before we have to show it in class, and we go all the way up to the Astronomy Tower. “Okay,” Fred says as soon as we are all settled in. “You got the good stuff?”

I grab my bag and take out the the vial of colorless liquid. It might as well be water, exactly as it should be. The two of us observe the Veritaserum with pride. I reach into the bag again and take out a glass dropper I’d borrowed from Daphne while he opens the vial. “So, who goes first?” Fred asks.

I purse my lips in thought. “What if we drink it at the same time and then we just take turns asking each other a question?”

“Nice. Rock paper scissors to see who gets to ask first?”

We tie for two rounds straight before he beats me with rock. I hand him the dropper and he squeezes some of the liquid into it. “Remember, three drops should be enough for it to work,” I remind him.

He nods. He passes the dropper back to me when he’s done and I take the three drops. There’s no smell and no taste, either, which is better than it being disgusting. I wait for something to happen, any indication that the serum has started taking effect, but I don’t feel any different. Fred seems to feel the same. “So… how do we know if It’s working?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Ask me a question, I guess.”

“Uhh… what’s your favorite color?”

“Seriously?” Fred holds his hands up in defense and I sigh and answer anyway. “Yellow.”

He raises a brow, eyeing me carefully. “Is that true?”

“It is.”

“Okay, then maybe It’s working! Now you ask me something.”

I try to think of something else, something that a guy like him usually lies about. “Did you do your homework during Spring break?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What were you doing in the meantime?”

“George and I were busy perfecting some of our products,” Fred answers. I don’t even have to question if It’s true. “Speaking of, who do you think is the cuter twin?”

“You, of course,” I say, and then I cover my mouth, but It’s too late. That’s far from what I wanted to say but I guess the serum really is working now. Fred is grinning from ear to ear without a care in the world, and he’s clearly enjoying this. Before he can say anything, I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “What do you really think about me?”

He blinks at me, taken aback, but he answers without stuttering. “Well, at first, I thought you were just another annoying, hateful Slytherin—cute, but hateful. But then I realized that you're probably the coolest girl I've ever met.”

Fred looks like he just got out of a trance and he doesn’t remember anything about the last few seconds. I smile in satisfaction. He thinks he has an advantage on this little “game” but he seems to forget that we’re both in it. I can pull a secret from him just as easily. “Interesting,” I comment. “You didn't mention thinking I was cute earlier.”

“Are you trying to start something here?” He asks.

I shake my head. “I think you started it a long time ago.”

“Okay, then,” He folds his arms across his chest. “Do you regret kissing me that night?”

I try to stop myself from talking but It’s useless. Don’t answer him. “No. I don’t think I ever did.”

Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up shut up!

“I knew it,” Fred says, stepping closer. My back makes contact with the nearest wall but neither of us pulls away. “I knew that wasn’t for nothing.”

I ignore the way his eyes move down to my lips. “Did you like it when I kissed you?”

“Yes. I still think about it to this day,” He confesses shamelessly. “If you don’t regret kissing me, does that mean that you have feelings for me?”

I have gotten to know more about Fred Weasley than I had ever imagined. I’ve been to his house, I’ve met his family, I’ve seen how he is outside of school… “I do,” I tell him, locking my gaze with his. “I like you.”

There’s a brief moment of silence in which the two of us just stare at each other, indulging in what I just said. Maybe I wasn’t thinking of confessing my feelings today but It’s out now. I could Obliviate him so he forgets any of this ever happened but I… I don’t want to. And I don’t think he wants either with the way he wraps an arm around my waist and connects his lips with mine.

With his free hand, Fred brings me as close to him as humanly possible and tangles it in my hair. This kiss feels so different than the first one; I was cold, wet, terrified, and not in a good state of mind when we kissed that night, and he was not expecting me to do that. But this time we’re both warm, needy, and desperate, and I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of fighting him. I want him. “Good,” Fred pulls away, his voice breathless, and my heart jumps. “Because I like you, too.”

I grab him by the tie and kiss him again, and he responds right away. He holds me like I’m the most precious thing to him, like he needs me more than anything, and it makes me want him even more. I tug at his hair and he groans softly, coaxing his tongue with mine as soon as I have access. We get so caught up in each other that I begin to forget where we are; my vision and all of my senses are invaded by a tall ginger boy who just couldn’t leave me alone in the first place. And I’m so glad he didn’t.

I pull away and Fred moves to kiss my cheek and then my jawline. My heart flutters in the best way. “How long have you liked me?” I ask him while I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think I’ve been attracted to you for a long time but when you really had me in a chokehold was when you nearly succeeded in taking the Cup from us,” Fred says. There’s a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I was so impressed by you, and then when you kissed me…” He makes a gesture as if he’s been shot through the heart. I fail to hold back my laughter. “I’ve been hooked ever since.”

I bite my lip, playing with a strand of my hair. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Yes, actually, there is,” I initially expect a joke or a silly comment, but once again Fred Weasley manages to take me by surprise. “If you ever need a place to stay after you graduate, do not hesitate to tell me because I’m sure mom would love to have you staying over.”

My eyebrows raise and my eyes go wide. “What?”

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was just—you were talking about it the other day and I-I wanted you to have the option, you know, just in case…”

“Fred Weasley, are you messing with me?” I raise my fist, ready to hit his arm.

Fred grabs my wrist gently and lowers it out of sight. He’s still smiling down at me like he’s amused. “I swear that I will talk to my mom about it if you ever need me to. You can use Percy’s room or mine and George’s room if we move out.”

That’s the nicest thing anyone could ever do for me. I never thought anyone would; aside from Fred, Daphne is the only person who shows any concern over me. I know she would have no problem with me staying with her after graduation but I also know she’s leaving immediately after to live in Paris. My eyes well up with tears but I fight to keep them in. “That would be nice,” My voice is slightly shaky, but steady. “Thank you,”

A single tear escapes but Fred gently wipes it away. “You’re very welcome.”

He leans down to peck my lips. I grin in content. “Do you want to go get dinner?”

“Oh, you’re inviting me out to eat?” He wiggles his eyebrows and I hit his arm playfully. I fight back a smile.

We gather our things and head down to the Great Hall. Fred holds my hand the entire way. I must admit that it feels nice to not fight back my feelings and just enjoy my alone times with Fred, even if It's something as simple as moving from one place to another. When we're approaching the large doors, I feel Fred’s fingers abandoning mine. I look up at him and, once I see the look on his face, I realize why he does it: he thinks I don’t want to be seen with him. And, yes, maybe if Fred Weasley went to grab my hand a few weeks ago I would probably bite it off but if he doesn’t hold it now I will most definitely cry. When he’s about to turn his head, I reach to grab his hand, seeing and feeling him jump under my touch. He stares at our linked hands like he cannot believe what he’s seeing and—is that a blush tinting his cheeks? I crane my neck up and smile at him. After allowing myself to know him a little better, I’ve discovered that I love catching him off guard more than anything. It shows a whole different side of him, and It’s very attractive.

We open the giant doors to the Great Hall after Fred recovers and we walk in. A few heads turn in our direction; some of them don’t think anything interesting is going on so they go back to their plates, while others stare curiously. A few Gryffindors whisper while George and Lee Jordan smirk our way. The Slytherin table cannot help but be a bit more obvious, murmuring stuff to each other that I’m sure is nothing good and sneering at the both of us as Fred leans in close. “I think you’re getting banned from Slytherin, but don’t worry, I’m sure Gryffindor could take you in.”

I chuckle as I roll my eyes. “They’ll get over it. Anyway, I don’t care what they say. Talk to you later?”

“Of course,” Fred says.

I go to walk away but he grabs my chin and before I can ask him what he’s doing he leans down to plant a quick kiss on my lips. He walks away, leaving me standing there frozen for a moment, and before he reaches his spot on the Gryffindor table he turns his head and winks at me.  That bastard, I think as I shake my head. He did that on purpose!

When I finally reach my table I feel the daggers that my housemates are throwing at me piercing through my skull, but I focus on the beaming girl sitting across from me. I sigh as I grab my empty plate and begin serving myself. “Go on. Say whatever you have to say.”

“I told you!” She bursts. “I told you there was something there, and I told you that he liked you, and I certainly knew that you were just acting stupid. You liked him, too! You stupid, stupid bitch—”

“No insults, please.”

“But you are a stupid bitch, are you or are you not?”

“I can't say I'm not.”

“Staining the name of Slytherin yet again, (L/N)?” Draco calls from the other side of the table. “You shouldn’t even be carrying your family’s last name. It’s too big of an honor for a blood traitor like you.”

A few Slytherin laugh in agreement.  “Should she even be allowed to sit with us? I bet Weasley germs are spreading around our table already.” Pansy Parkinson grimaces.

“Well, the Parkinson germs have been spreading for years, haven’t they?” I snap back at her.

“Yeah, and no one’s said anything about it,” Daphne adds, shrugging innocently.

Pansy glares at the both of us but does not say anything else. When she turns back to her group, Daphne rolls her eyes. “The only con about all of this is that you have to put up with stuff like that.”

“That’s true,” I agree. “But I honestly don’t care.”

I turn to look at the Gryffindor table, and automatically my eyes find Fred’s figure. He’s already looking in my direction and when our eyes meet we smile. Okay, yes, I do like him. I like him a lot.

[danaewrites]

you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part i: and while you were asleep, i was surely awake

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 2.8k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: hii y'all, sorry for not posting in a year :P my only excuse is that i didn't feel like taking the energy to actually write out my story ideas. also perfectionism. anyway i somehow wrote this in two hours while procrastinating my college app essays and have plans to make this a multi-chapter fic despite intending to write an angsty oneshot request for a completely different fandom (i see you, beloved anons, and i raise you this completely unrelated fic <3)… the brain of a writer works in mysterious ways.

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

You were in love with James Potter.

It was a fact of life, just like how the sky was blue, or that his favorite dessert was treacle tart, or that you were the only person he’d ever let see him cry besides his mother. You’d loved him from the moment you met him on the train to Hogwarts as a shy, anxious muggleborn unsure of the new world of magic and prejudice you’d been thrown into without so much as a warning. He hadn’t cared at all about your blood status- didn’t even think to ask about it. He had launched himself into your compartment and began talking at you a mile a minute, beaming with every tooth showing once he found out you were hoping to get into Gryffindor, his hazel eyes alight with the joy of making a new friend. And friends indeed you had become; you were proud to remember that you’d known him before Sirius or Remus or Peter did, though it took only an instant after the Sorting for him to become best mates with the rest of them, too.

You and James were inseparable from that moment on, giggling at Professor Binns’ failure to notice Sirius’ antics in the back of class and reassuring each other when home seemed too far away for comfort. He stole sweets from the Slytherin table for you at meals, and you covered for him when the teachers almost caught him pranking Snape– after all, who would believe that sweet, innocent Y/n would ever be involved in such shenanigans? The soft-spoken demeanor and love of everything pastel you’d thought would eventually oust you from the close-knit Gryffindor boys’ group proved to be quite the useful asset when affirming their ‘innocence’.

Not that they only wanted you around because you were helpful, of course. You had quite the talent for exaggerating stories until even Sirius fell off his seat laughing in disbelief, and your creative mind made for some glorious pranks and entertaining mistakes. Peter would blush for an hour straight if anyone mentioned The Great Plum Pudding Incident of Christmas 1974, all thanks to your clever meddling. And Remus– well, he was eternally grateful for your mother-henning during the worst of his moon cycles. You’d been the first to figure out his “furry little problem”, and upon learning that enjoying chocolate was his favorite method of escapism, showed up every month without fail with an armful of Honeydukes sweets. The little ways in which you loved each Marauder meant the world to them. They would do anything to protect you and make sure you were okay, James most of all. You often teased James that he was more bodyguard than friend, with his deep glares at too-forward Hufflepuff boys masking the big softie you knew he was underneath. You remembered fondly the summer days he spent chasing you around your house, scaring your mother half to death with his colander-and-pot ‘armor’ as he declared that as a chivalrous knight, he was meant to save Princess Y/n from the terrible Acromantula King. Privately, you thought James had a few too many Arthurian legends for bedtime stories as a child, but what could you do?

Even now, as sixth years, the bond between you and James never changed, your love for him ever-growing. Your heart melted every time you glanced over your shoulder in the hallway, only to find him chatting softly with a sniffling first-year and guiding them to Professor Sprout’s office for a hot cuppa and a biscuit. You cheered at his Quidditch victories and were euphorically lifted up onto his broad shoulders afterward, whooping as he galavanted through the common room in celebration. You were there when he needed a shoulder to cry on when his grandfather died, softly stroking his hair as he fell asleep in your lap with tear tracks still running down his face. And he adored you in return– braiding your hair while you worked on Herbology essays, racing you on his beloved broom when you stayed with him during the summer, distracting you from your rants about Slughorn’s unfair grading with a trip to the kitchens and a blissfully soft blanket.

James was your lifeline and you his– and nothing in the world could change that.

Except, perhaps, one tiny little complication. A complication with vibrant red hair, sparkling green eyes, and a natural affinity for Potions. A complication that had sparked your jealousy since the first time you noticed James glancing dreamily at Lily Evans in second year Transfiguration, jealousy that had only gotten worse with his grand declarations of love every week. He’d begun to announce his affection for the muggleborn to anyone who would listen in third year, and it didn’t stop there. No, when James Potter loved someone, he loved hard, and that meant that you had to watch as beautiful bouquets appeared on Lily’s nightstand nightly while the rest of the girls in your dorm whispered and swooned. You were a wallflower when he sighed about how lovely her skin was and how bloody talented she was at everything she did during one of your late-night chats in the common room, curling in on yourself with every word he spoke. When he asked her to Hogsmeade the first time (and the second, and the third, and the fiftieth), you observed as she rolled her eyes and shoved past him, despite the small smile on her face.

It wasn’t that Lily wasn’t smart or pretty or talented– far from it. She deserved every good Potions grade she got, and even the pureblood Slytherins begrudgingly noted how she was the darling of Hogwarts society. But you thought that the way she treated your best friend, refusing his advances quite harshly but sending him flirtatious glances and making a show of wearing his flowers in her hair, was rather unkind and misleading. She had James wrapped around her little finger and didn’t seem to want to let go of his attention anytime soon, despite Snape’s protests about how much time he was spending with her. You disliked Severus, but didn’t think he deserved Lily’s bad treatment either. Sometimes you’d see him staring at James and Lily deep in conversation, and shoot him a glance of communal disappointment– before realizing who you were sharing the moment with and resuming an expression of disgust, at least.

At first, you ignored your growing angst about his new obsession, chalking it up to sleep deprivation, stress over your upcoming exams, and even your monthly. But when you started to run out of excuses for the despair slowly overtaking your heart and flashes of his dark curls began to appear in your sweetest dreams, you were forced to admit that your feelings for James ran much deeper than a platonic friendship. From the way he spun you around in the snow to the way he snorted at Remus’ awful puns, you were head-over-heels smitten with your best friend.

The way he’d filled out since the end of fourth year hadn’t escaped your notice, either; you were pretty sure that his pecs should be considered a traffic hazard, with the way you’d fallen flat on your face after seeing him shirtless after a match. He’d rushed over to clean up every one of your injuries, of course, with a touch so gentle it released a whole menagerie of butterflies in your stomach. You’d barely managed to mumble a coherent thank-you before sprinting to take a very cold shower and scream into your pillow with embarrassment. How on earth did Lily Evans even think around him?!

Alas, you’d read your fair share of romance novels, and you knew how this story would end. Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.

That was the state Sirius found you in, broody and lost in thought in a quiet corner of the library. He grinned rakishly, planting a well-polished boot on a nearby chair and leaning over to tap your forehead. “Lots going on in there today, huh?”

You snapped out of your daze and smiled sheepishly up at him. “Sorry, Siri, didn’t mean to ignore you. Just, er, thinking about my Potions essay, do you know how many uses there are for mandelwort? Quite fascinating plants, hones–”

Sirius winced and slid back far across the table. “Oh, no, you are not discussing horrid Potions work with me today when there are so many other wonderful topics.” He gestured to a table of swooning fifth-years gazing dreamily at his backside. “For example, those lovely ladies,” he crooned, sending an exaggerated wink towards them and smirking when they sighed.

You wrinkled your nose and scoffed. “Oh, please, as if I haven’t heard enough about your conquests already. I’m already scarred for life from your stories about that Belgium Veela, let alone the muggle sailor you nearly broke the Statute of Secrecy for.”

He waved a hand, dismissing your allegations of the mental injury caused by his excruciating attention to sordid detail when slightly tipsy in the common room. You made a mental note to charm his shampoo to turn his hair bright lavender for the next week for that little snub. Although, being Sirius, he’d probably just use it as an excuse to sway the rest of the Hogwarts population into going to Hogsmeade with him. “Ah, but darling Y/n, that’s what I’m here for!” He furrowed his brow and stroked his chin in mock consideration. “However, I can’t seem to recall a time when you–” here he poked you in the cheek for emphasis– “confessed to a little tete-a-tete in the hallway. Ever. Which means we have a problem,” he grinned.

You felt rather like prey being hunted for sport. “That would be because I’m not interested in anyone, you dolt!” Crossing your arms, you turned your face back towards your homework. Maybe if you denied romantic interest for long enough, Sirius would leave you alone and go flounce off to flirt with the noisy table of fourth years. “Anyway, I heard Marlene’s been circling Dorcas like a lovesick pigeon lately, so perhaps you should be putting your matchmaking efforts to her benefit instead.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “C’mon doll, I know you weren’t actually thinking about Potions when I arrived. Who’s the lead actor in those fantasies, mm?” He snatched up your favorite pink gel pen, twirling around his fingers as he looked at you expectantly.

Drat. He wouldn’t be so easily distracted with the latest gossip. You opened your mouth to protest yet again when you caught a flash of red over Sirius’ artfully tousled locks. You watched as James strode up to the alcove where Lily and her friends were studying, transfigured a sheet of parchment into a butterfly clip and held it out to her with a grin. Her laughter pealed out through the library as she let him lean over her shoulder to place it in her hair. He seemed oblivious to the titters of the girls around him while he gazed at Lily adoringly. You felt your heart clench as you recognized the expression on his face; you’d seen it on your own in the mirror after spending time with James, after all. And it seemed like maybe Lily was finally starting to be swayed into accepting his starry-eyed proposals, if the pretty blush on her cheeks was anything to go by.

Sirius tracked your despairing gaze to the couple and immediately paled in realization. “Oh, shit.”

Shit, indeed. Your face turned bright red as you scrambled to pack your bag and leave the area as fast as you possibly could, not sure how you could face Sirius knowing your deepest secret now. The boy had no self-control, fueling the Hogwarts gossip mill with the wild stories he overheard, and he had even less discretion when confessing things to his friends around the common room fire. It’s no wonder he wound up in Gryffindor, you thought miserably. There’s no way he’d be able to keep a secret like the rest of the Slytherins, and definitely not from James. It would only be a matter of time before he let it slip about your feelings to the rest of the Marauders, and— well, you’d just have to face losing your best friend for good once he heard.

Sirius broke your train of thought by wrapping his hands around yours, looking up at you with concern. “Hey, doll, wait— I didn’t know—“

You sniffed and wiped the tears threatening to fall from your eyes away fiercely. “That’s exactly it, Sirius, you didn’t know because you won’t be able to keep it from James.”

He looked guiltily down at the table. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit of a git with keeping things private lately, yeah?”

You nodded, covering your face with your hands. Sirius reached out, placing them back down on the table, and softly said, “Listen, I shouldn’t have pried so hard. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” He broke off, pausing to scramble for a handkerchief from his bag to wipe off your rapidly disintegrating mascara. “And I promise not to breathe a word of this to James,” he finished.

You looked up at him, startled. “Are you serious?” At his answering grin, you groaned. “Don’t answer that. But really, are you sure that you’ll be able to resist telling him everything?” You fiddled with the now-soiled handkerchief and whispered, “You two are so close, I don’t want to drive you apart. If James thought you were hiding something important from him, it would destroy him,” you sniffed.

He frowned. “Doll, you know you’re just as important as James is to me, right?” At your answering slump, his jaw clenched and he continued on with more intensity. “You’re like my sister, Y/n, there’s nothing you could do to make me care for you less. Especially not asking for your privacy. Clearly, I haven’t been treating you as well as you deserve if you doubt that.”

He walked around and took a seat in the armchair next to you, pulling you in to lean on his shoulder. “And I can be discreet, you know. I might not show it often, but growing up in a family of the most intensely secretive purebloods ever to exist taught me a few things.” You glanced at him doubtfully, the tiny quirk of your mouth the only sign that you were joking. “Hey, I’m being serious!” He laughed, then quieted suddenly. “This thing with James— you really love him, don’t you?”

You gave him an exasperated look out of the corner of your eye. Sirius released a breath and gazed deeply into the space in front of him. “Hey, we’ll figure this out together, okay?” He poked you in the side. “If he’s too focused on the smell of Evans’ hair or whatever to see that he already has the perfect girl in front of him, he’s not as smart as you think he is.” You giggled slightly, his words warming you. Sirius smiled, happy to see you cheering up a bit.

“Why don’t we go raid the kitchens? The coolest person I know once told me that elf-crafted mint chocolate chip ice cream is the best way to heal a broken heart,” he teased. You groaned, remembering how you’d told him that as a last resort to get him to stop complaining about how he missed his sailor ex-boyfriend every time you two went to Hogsmeade. At least your random advice wound up benefiting you now, you thought as you collected the last of your stationery and exited the library.

Neither you nor Sirius saw how James watched you smile up at Sirius as you walked away, holding his arm and laughing loudly at something he muttered. Anna Dumotier, a Hufflepuff fifth-year and one of Lily’s friends, would remember later that night how he seemed to tune out Lily’s voice for a moment and stared at the doors to the library with a strange expression on his face. His brows were furrowed like he was trying to decipher the answer to an unfamiliar puzzle, his eyes widened with confusion and a glint of something she could only identify as jealousy before Lily brought him back to the conversation with a graceful flip of her hair. But no— she shook her head— that couldn’t be right. What could James possibly be jealous of when he finally had the girl of his dreams in his arms?

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read on: part ii

[little-diable]

A secret to hold, a secret to share –Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 6/?)

Chapter six, here we go! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, full on smut (finally), oral, piv, some tension

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2.7k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Seven

“Have you all read the email I sent you Friday evening?” Aaron Hotchner’s voice echoed through the room, eyes searching the crowd of students, actively avoiding (y/n)’s gaze. A sigh threatened to leave her, wondering if he’d ever go back to treating her like he had done the morning they had spent in his bed before the situation had escalated into whatever it was now. 

Since most of them shook their heads, not daring to look at the frowning professor, he let go of a deep exhale, clearing his throat to start speaking once again,  “Next week we will start with our presentations, you can choose any case, active or historic. The case will also be the topic of the paper you’ll have to hand in at the end of the semester, so choose something you’ll find enough literature and information on. I don’t think I need to tell you that you need to focus on profiling and how the cases should be worked with.” 

(Y/n) couldn’t stop the wave of excitement from flushing through her, no matter how awkward things were between her and Aaron, she wouldn’t allow their back and forth to stop herself from being excited about researching and presenting something she loved to focus on. Giddiness shook through her system as she scribbled down notes, barely listening to him reminding his students that they needed to email him their topic and their preferred date for their presentation. 

Aaron was once again cut short by the fleeting time, ending the class with a loud “I’ll see you next week” leaving him. The second the words left him though, his eyes snapped towards (y/n), finally, tilting his head towards the door to wordlessly ask her to meet him outside. It felt like a déjà-vu, reminding her of the awful conversation they had shared the last time she had been in his office.

Nervousness guided her every step as she met him outside the room, following him through the crowd of students to find their way to his office. Nothing had changed since the last time she had been in the room, plopping down on the black couch that felt all too comfortable. 

“I need to apologise for the way I spoke to you at the BAU, (y/n). I have to admit it took me a while to see through this mess, but the team is quite fond of you, they know how to guide me whenever needed.” A surprised huff left (y/n), barely audible, yet loud enough to draw a low chuckle from Aaron. “It’s not my intention to play any games, as you called it. But being around you confuses me, I meant it when I told you that I can’t understand what you’re making me feel. It’s wrong of me to have these desires, you’re my student, and you’ll probably join the BAU fairly soon, adding another line I shouldn’t, can’t cross.”

“So, where does that leave us?” (Y/n) whispered her words, eyes snapping down to her hand as Aaron’s big one found hers, fingers slowly interlacing themselves with hers. Silence engulfed the two, slowing their racing heartbeats, and relaxing into the couch they were sitting on.

“The rational decision would be to leave whatever there may be between us in the past.” With a hum leaving her, (y/n) squeezed Aaron’s hand, hoping that the touch may encourage him to keep on speaking, to mention another way out of the mess they were tangled in. But he kept quiet, momentarily allowing her mind to wander, focusing on the thoughts she had pushed away for the past hours.

Ever since she had received the text, (y/n) had been wrecking her head, trying to figure out who could be the one that had messaged her. She hadn’t told anybody about it yet, not wanting to take away the team’s attention from more important tasks. But even though (y/n) tried to distract herself, she couldn’t shake the anxiety sticking to her. An anxiety only Aaron could eventually free her from, she was sure of it. 

“I don’t want to leave this behind, Aaron.” His free hand found her cheek, watching her move closer with a soft smile growing on his lips. The sight had something almost unfamiliar to it, a sight she hoped she’d never forget. “But I guess we can opt to meet in the middle. I won’t be your student much longer, and then I’ll not be your student or your team member, at least for a few months. Enough time to figure out where we want this to go without any rules or laws holding us back.” 

“This isn’t fair on you, (y/n).” The soft smile on Aaron’s lips fell as he spoke his words, tongue darting out to wet his lips, thumbs stroking her knuckles. Only the humourless laugh leaving (y/n) managed to force his eyes to snap back up to meet hers. 

“I think it’s on me to decide what’s fair and what isn’t. Don’t take that choice from me, please Aaron.”

……

(Y/n) couldn’t stop her laugh from rumbling through her as she watched the chaos unfold in front of her, wide eyes focused on Spencer and Derek. The scent of freshly made pasta filled her with warmth, hand wrapped around her glass, feet placed in Penelope’s lap. She hadn’t been able to shake off her excitement as Dave had invited her for his pasta night, grateful for the somewhat fatherly love the man shared with her. 

“When did you start working for the BAU?” (Y/n)’s question forced Penelope’s eyes away from Derek, watching him lift Spencer off the ground as if the man had no weight to him. It took her a few moments to reply, mind racing, unable to think through the tipsy fog she was trapped in.

“Years by now, but I’m so grateful about working there, it’s the family I always looked for.” The smile widening on Penelope’s lips had an addicting effect to it, making (y/n)’s smile grow even wider. Deep down they wouldn’t see through the walls she had pulled up, needing to ask questions they’d instantly get suspicious of when they were sober enough. 

“And did you build all the software and stuff yourself, or does anybody share these with you?” Ever since she had received that text (y/n) had tried to figure out who had sent it to her. But even though she knew that it hadn’t been one of the team members, she couldn’t help but wonder if any other agent was behind all of this. 

“Of course I did.” A tipsy laugh left Penelope, fully turning her body towards (y/n). The blonde woman studied her friend for a few moments, leaving (y/n) panicking, wondering if Penelope saw through the questions all too easily. “It’s my baby, of course, I don’t share it with anybody.” Another laugh left her, a laugh (y/n) tried to mimic, drowning yet another sip to let go of her uneasiness. 

Whoever had sent her the text must have managed to hack into the system without Penelope realising it, and follow (y/n) around without her knowing about it. The thought of having a pair of unfamiliar eyes on her left her shuddering, needing to bite down the need to cry about this. 

“I’m about to head home, do you want me to drive you back?” A big hand was placed on (y/n)’s shoulder, eyes drawn from Penelope’s glistening ones to Aaron’s coffee-coloured ones. She shot him a soft nod, rising to her feet before she pulled Penelope in for another hug to say goodbye. Aaron studied her every move, watching (y/n) hug the others before she followed him out of the mansion, cuddling into her jacket to shield her body from the cold evening. 

Ever since their talk in his office, the two had tried to adjust to their new situationship, if one could call it that. While they had settled on the fact that they couldn’t put a label on their relationship till she’d graduated, neither of them was ready to let go of the other, forced to give in to the confusing pulls they felt. 

With one hand placed on (y/n)’s knee, Aaron began to drive them back to her apartment, enjoying the comfortable silence wrapping itself around the two. Even though her thoughts were still racing, trying to figure out who was toying with her, she couldn’t help but feel giddy next to Aaron, grateful that they could finally be honest with their emotions, their longings, and perhaps even their desires. 

“Do you want to come in for a few?” Her soft voice filled his car, watching Aaron ponder over the question before he murmured a soft “Of course”, following (y/n) into her apartment. The second they crossed the threshold, the door fell shut with a soft thud, his lips were on hers, pressing (y/n) against the door. With her hands in his dark hair, she kept him close, struggling to keep breathing as her adrenaline thumped through her veins. 

No words were needed to be spoken as she parted from him, heavily breathing. She took his hand, and led him to her bedroom, squealing as Aaron pushed her down on the mattress. His laughs made her heart skip beats, silently thanking her lucky stars for allowing her to feel whatever she was currently guided by. 

Their lips met once again as his hands tugged her dress down her frame, settling between her thighs with his knees pressing into the mattress. Both tried to drown out their thoughts, fully focusing on one another and the feeling of their bodies searching for their closeness. Within moments (y/n) found herself wearing nothing but her underwear, dilated pupils watching Aaron undress, exposing his scars to her, scars she reached for with trembling fingers, softly tracing them.

With a loving smile widening on his lips, Aaron tilted her chin up, eyes finding hers as he kissed her, pushing (y/n) back down with his hands working on her bra, lips instantly finding their way to her hardening buds. Her moans echoed through her bedroom, urging Aaron to use more pressure, hands fisting his dark roots to hold on before she’d slip away into the new dimension he was about to push her into.

“I have pictured this moment so many times, and yet it had never felt this good.” His confession drew another moan from her swollen lips, hands letting go of his hair to pull him even closer, legs finding their way around his waist. She could feel his hardening cock, begging to sink into her, to feel her walls flutter around him as Aaron fucked her hard, forcing her to forget her name with the intense waves of pleasure swapping through her. 

“Me too, fuck, so many times.” Aaron shot her a smirk as he kissed his way down to her panties, eyes wordlessly asking for permission before he pulled them down her legs, groaning at the sight of her dripping heat. No further word left the tall man, head buried between her thighs to let his tongue explore her dripping heat. 

(Y/n)’s moans reverberated through the room, growing louder, and stronger with every flick of Aaron’s tongue. His name rolled off her tongue as he buried two fingers in her cunt, forcing her walls to adjust to the unfamiliar touch, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d touch her like this. She tried to watch him, tried to keep her gaze focused on the excitement burning in his pupils, but the second his fingers found her swollen spot, her head rolled back, giving room to yet another moan. 

“You taste so sweet, baby, my perfect girl.” His praises shot shudders down her spine, making her heart skip beats with her lungs aching to cling to some much-needed air. Within a few seconds, Aaron managed to push her closer to the edge, watching pleasure tug on (y/n)’s features with a satisfied grin glued to his lips. “Let go for me I’ve got you.”

She came on his tongue with his name leaving her again and again, riding out her orgasm. Her pants filled the room, slightly groaning as Aaron let go of her, rising to his feet to get rid of his clothes, eyes not breaking contact once. “Are you sure that you want this?”

“God, Aaron, if you don’t fuck me soon I’ll throw a tantrum, I’ll promise you that much.” His chuckles bubbled out of him as he watched (y/n) reach for a condom, stretching it out for him to take. For a few seconds, they were engulfed by silence, allowing the two to momentarily relax as he positioned himself, fingers interlacing themselves with hers before he pushed into her.

Both moaned in unison, eyes fluttering close to relish in the shared closeness, wanting to soak up every passing second. Aaron took his time with his thrusts, not wanting to rush anything, needing to feel her flutter around him, wordlessly telling him how much she enjoyed this. 

“More, please.” Her whispers left Aaron smiling, adding more speed to his thrusts, staring down at her with adoration swimming in his pupils. Both were taken up by their emotions, the need to feel their highs flushing through them, the insatiable need for one another neither of them could shake. 

She sneaked one hand between their connected bodies, circling her pulsing bundle to give her the last needed push, calling out his name as her orgasm flushed through her. He followed (y/n) down the edge a few moments later, groaning into the crook of her neck. Neither of them dared to move, staying connected, limbs and hearts, souls intertwined by the love thumping through their veins.

“How about a shower?” Aaron murmured the words against (y/n)’s lips, pressing a kiss to them before he let go of her, rising from the mattress to get rid of the condom. She could only nod, kissing him once again, allowing Aaron to pull her to her feet. Slowly she guided him towards her bathroom, freezing in their step as the sound of her doorbell ringing echoed through the apartment. 

“I’ll take care of it, you can start the shower.” She watched him leave her side, momentarily disappearing to put on some clothes, but (y/n) didn’t move, body taken up by a weird sensation. Her heart stared racing, mind catching up with the secret she had tried to keep from him, eyes growing wide as Aaron opened the door, eyes wandering down the hallway before they focused on a small wooden box placed in front of her door. “Did you order something?”

“No.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him frowning, eyebrows furrowed as he reached the box out for her to take. Her fingers started shaking, teeth forced into her lower lip. Without needing to open it, she could tell that it was yet another warning, struggling to undo the tight bow that had been wrapped around it. Her heart started pounding as she slowly placed the box down, taking off the lid with a shaky exhale leaving her. 

“I should have known you enjoy playing games, (y/n). Let this be my last warning, I always win.”

Aaron read the words out loud, eyes finding her glassy ones as he reached for the picture that had been attached to the text. Another picture of her and Aaron, drawing a sob from her trembling lips. 

“(Y/n), what is that all about?”

[ryiju-muunie]

The professor is Mine

18+ viewer discretion is advised

trans!student!Satoru Gojo/professor!Ryomen Sukuna Warnings: university/college AU, dubious morality, transgender gojo y'all, dubious age gap [19 and 40], class room sex kind of, cock warming, Sukuna got a big dick y'all, gojo has an obsession with his professor, Grindr mentioned [sadly], finger sucking, creampie, gojo is also a fem boy, bottom growth Y'ALL, neck sucking, and not beta read we die like men Word count: 3310 DESC: Satoru puts together a plan to fuck his history professor and it WORKS?!

This is old but I realize I never uploaded it here

NOTES: Dubious morality and cockwarming! Personally if these were on the ballad I'd vote for cockwarming. Also ignore if it gets incredibly redundant and awful at the end. I had work and my brain is starting to turn to sludge at this very moment

It was so wrong, so utterly wrong, but everyone’s allowed a little bit of fun, right? At least, that’s what Satoru told himself as he stared into the full-length mirror by his bed. There wasn’t any way to beat around the bush: He was going to sleep with his History professor. Well, try to. That man, Dr. Sukuna, was a wall of mystery to anyone who dared penetrate it. There was no good way in and every time he thought he had an opening it was squashed by his glare. It was as dastardly as it was attractive, making him bite his lip in class. Every time he tried to ask a question or talk after class, he was left with hasty remarks that made him want to give up. But the boy never did.

His whole obsession with the older man started when he found on him Grindr of all places. It made the wet spot between his legs ache as he scrolled through his profile. Ryomen, 41, single, and rippling with muscles. Ryomen posted shirtless photos, gym videos, and most importantly … an audio. It was just him talking about his interest in history, some period in Japan he was so fond of, that Satoru didn’t care for. But the fire in his voice, the drive of passion made him listen to it almost the entire night, as he fingered his pussy. 

In the mirror, the college student donned a black skirt, cropped to his mid-thigh. It was scandalous and not the kind of outfit you’d wear to visit your history professor when you knew he was grading in his office. But to cover it, and make the outfit a bit more G-rated, he slipped on a white cardigan. A bra to hold his breasts in place underneath as well. Black and lacey. Something … mature. Ryomen was older, he probably liked older guys too. Gojo wanted to show he was mature beyond his years, even if he was just nineteen. This outfit might have no been the best example but it was slutty. That’s all that mattered. Prying his professor's eyes from his grading papers for more than two minutes so he could see his hot skin, dripping in red for him.

The door was unlocked, and he knew it was. The student had his teacher's exact routine memorized down to when he sat in his office with the door slightly cracked so students could come in if they had questions but it was directly advertised to the public. So, most students didn’t. He knew he had a perfect chance of getting that older man alone and he had one shot to seduce him. Even if it meant using a bit of blackmail. Wouldn’t the school want to know that the professor of Japanese history at their prestigious college was on Grindr matching with nineteen-year-olds? It was a last resort if he didn’t get what he wanted, so he wouldn’t play that card unless he absolutely had to.

Satoru pushed the door open with the toe of his foot and marveled for a few silent seconds at the man before him. Grey hairs poured into pale pink tufts, all neatly sprawled across his head. It was messy but meticulous, so he knew his teacher spent a good thirty minutes combing those strands to stand up like that. It was kind of juvenile, still styling his hair like he probably did when he was his student's age. And the white-haired-male couldn’t help but find it endearing, how it stuck up with no regard for his very professional outfit. A soft blue button-up with a darker brown vest overtop, and a dark blue tie. The tie was always plain, as his outfits were. Not like his other professor in economics, Mr. Nanami, who wore patterned ties [which contrasted his very bleak personality]. 

The one thing he always stopped to stare at was his eyes, which were the color of a light fire. Hazy in the outer corners and burning deep within the corneas. It was entrancing and god was it hot when he’d stare into the other man’s eyes. The fire was always dull, not true fire. Instead of bright orange it always ranged from a more soothing caramel, which complimented his aged features like wine. Even with those slight wrinkles by the corner of his eyes, he was handsome. 

Dr. Sukuna didn’t notice Satoru standing in the doorway for at least a moment until he made himself known with a clearing of his throat, “...Professor.” It was a simple word, but it was the way he said it. Breathy, on the brink of pure pleasure. His eyes were slightly closed, half-lidded in his direction and burning with lust. Words’ meanings can change with their tone, and he was trying to convey a single sentence using simplistic words.

Take me right over your desk and pound my pussy until I’m throbbing with your hot seed, as it leaks through my folds. 

The boy gasped at the thought, pressing his legs together as he was dangled naked in front of the other man's eye. He looked up, eyebrow slightly arched as he took in that lewd outfit and the even more lewd expression on his student's face. It was obvious. If Satoru had arousal pheromones they’d be radiating off of his cunt in wafts, straight to Ryomen’s nose. Finally, he set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes. His eyelids were flat, one plain of skin. Gojo wondered what it would be like to lick his skin, especially around those firey eyes. Yet still, they were dull. He wanted them to burn brightly for him, even if it was one time. Even if it was for one singular moment. 

“Satoru. How can I help you?” He asked, with a polite strain in his voice. Satoru had always wondered if his profile came up on his professor's Grindr feed. He wondered if he listened to his breathy voice notes, saw his promiscuous photos, and touched himself. He wondered if that large cock ever got hard because of little old him. He knew he got wet over that man on several occasions, always ending with the male leaving class early to touch himself needily in his car. Mewling as he came all over his hand, wishing it was Ryomen’s fingers sliding around his clit and pinching it between rough pads. 

Here it goes. All of this build-up and Satoru just had to come out and say it. He had rehearsed it so many times in his head it was practically memorized by that point. “I want you …” He paused deliberately, bringing an index finger to run against his pouted bottom lip before he continued, “... To help me with my grades.” He noticed right away that Professor Sukuna had a thing with his mouth. Whether it was chewing on the back of a pen in between waiting for his slides to load or biting his bottom lip in concentration, he was always doing something with his mouth. So his student just had to assume he was somehow sexually aroused by someone else's mouth. You know, sound logic for a man who had just stalked his teacher's entire schedule.

Sukuna didn’t look too phased by this, pressing his lips together and nodding his head very slowly. Surely, he had to know where he was coming from at this point. The sultry voice and the incredibly skimpy outfit? He wasn’t stupid, he had his doctorate for godsakes! This man had to know he was being seduced. 

He continued to nod, bringing his bottom lip into his mouth and thoughtfully running it against his top teeth. What a teasing motion. It was deliberate, just as Satoru’s words. As if he was challenging him and telling him to stand down. His legs were spread, he could tell from the stance of his shoulders as he trailed a calloused hand to his tie. Delicately, he looped one finger over the top and gripped the edge of the center, tugging and swaying the fabric side to side as he stared at his student. Ravenous. He was absolutely ravenous. His gaze was burning with a sense of passion and desire Gojo hadn’t ever seen in his entire lifetime. This man knew exactly what he wanted out of his plush body, and he was going to get it. 

“You’re bold, brat,” a chuckle escaped his lips as he pulled the remainings of his tie and pulled it out from around his head. Then came the few buttons on his shirt, gone and exposing bouts of fresh skin. Skin Satoru wouldn’t have a hard time marking with his pouty mouth, running his tongue along the collarbone and sucking until it was blooming with red.

Within a second, his student closed the door with his hands, clicking the lock between two nimble fingers. Locked. And all mine. A grin pulled at his lips and he strode over to the table, pushing aside a picture of Sukuna’s cat to sit on the edge. If it wasn’t obvious to his professor then, it was now. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. He put one leg in between the other man’s spread ones, almost hitting his crotch dead on. It gave just the slightest view to his dripping folds, slicked with his juices, and aching to be touched. Ryomen glanced over at him, eyes trailing down and slightly widening at the sight of a pussy. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he seemed rather pleased. A whine of pre-enthusiasm escaped his lips as the teacher pressed his hand into Satoru’s thigh, sliding up to cup his squishy hip. It was warm as he dug his short nails into the skin, kneading it like it was fresh dough. 

“I saw your profile,” he said, without looking up from his college student’s cunt, “I was intrigued as to how someone so… innocent could post those photos of himself,” his eyes flitted to the other, making Gojo’s mouth salivate. Was this, possession? Had his professor been lusting after him as much as he had been lusting too? God!!! This turned him on so much!! But he couldn’t outright say, ‘Hey I’ve been kind of stalking you, marry me :D’.

So instead he leaned forward, an air of seduction to his voice as his right hand's index finger extended and drew a line up Ryomen’s neck, tilting his face up by his chin with ease, “I wanted to show off. Especially in class. For you,” he purred, lids fluttering closed and eyelashes brushing against his cheek. Satoru’s hand caressed his lower jaw, before grabbing his chin with force, a devilish grin taking hold of his features, “I know you liked it. You got so worked up. It was obvious…”

Ryomen was clearly stronger than him, so it made him clench to realize he was letting himself get moved. He was letting this obviously submissive twink take control, even if it was for a minute, to tease and taunt him. His cheeks were burning, and god it was hot. How could such a man exist? His professor opened his mouth and tilted his head to the side in a jerking manner, signaling he wanted something. He wanted … oh. Satoru happily complied and adjusted his hand, sinking his thumb into the other's mouth with ease. His eyes fluttered closed as he took the digit, and began to suck. 

“I want you to,” Gojo inhaled shakily, taking ahold of his partner's other hand and dragging it toward his miserable heat, “To touch me. Can you do that?” Ryomen mumbled something against his thumb which was to the degree of yes, but he didn’t care as his thick fingers were getting to work. It was an instant pleasure, feeling three pads delicately rub long circles around his engorged clit. He had bottom growth, and it took the other a few seconds to adjust and pull at it lightly. Before settling on rubbing the tip ever so lightly. What a tease! What a fucking tease! Every touch was increasing his slick and every touch was giving him a taste of what was to come. 

It was only a few more seconds of teasing touches that Sukuna let go of his thigh and stopped toying with his cunt. He leaned back and let Satoru’s thumb trail out of his mouth with a faint pop. He inhaled and a small smile pulled at his features. It was devious. Utterly devious. Hungry… aching for more. Wanting to devour the twink until there was nothing left but his skirt as a reminder that he actually existed. His big hands fondled his waist until his pants were gone and what was left was a cock springing from his abdomen. God Satoru could just cry. That was one of the largest dicks he had ever seen, and it was apparent his teacher was only partially hard too. It was beautiful, slightly curved, bulbous and throbbing head, with trimmed hair at the base. What wasn’t there to like?

He didn’t have to be told anything, getting up and turning his behind to line up his entrance with the cockhead. “F-fuck…” Ryomen breathed out, two hands anchoring to Gojo’s hips to guide him down. Being this self-lubricated made it easy as he stretched down that massive log. It felt as though he was going to explode in ecstasy at any moment. Pushing further, his G-spot was roughly kissed by the tip. Satoru teetered a bit at the sensation, leaning up to get a small breath before sinking once again. It was sensitive and intense, just the feeling of bottoming out. And then … that was it. 

Satoru sat there in a bit of confusion as his professor wrapped one arm around his waist to pull him flush to his back, and used the other to pick up a pen and begin his work. Was that it? Is this how older men have sex, by sitting and letting you bottom out into nothing? I mean, he had to admit, it was hot. The way he felt every breath, every pulse from his cock, every twitch in his legs. It made him squirm. But … it wasn’t the rough kinky sex he had expected. 

“What exactly are we doing?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking down at the work. It was just busy work he had given the classes, and he was grading them as if he wasn’t having a twink swallow his cock whole. 

Ryomen laughed a bit, strained with an erotic breathy tone as he replied, his mouth dangerously close to Satoru’s ear, “I’m grading, brat.”

“I can see that. But I was expecting to be railed, you know. I got all dressed up for this,” a whine escaped his lips, not out of pleasure, but rather out of impatience. If he wanted to, he could have started bouncing. Well, he wanted to, but he definitely couldn’t. The man realized that Dr. Sukuna’s hand around his waist wasn’t to be intimate but to keep him from moving. That bastard! He was doing this on purpose!

He felt warm and soft lips press into his neck, kissing the skin like it was the finest prize. Satoru gasped and leaned his head to the left, giving his professor more room to kiss along the side of his neck, “But, I find that slow-,” and there it was. Ryomen slowly thrust up into Satoru’s clenched pussy, “-pleasure is always the best.” His breath tickled the white-haired male’s earlobe and for a split second he thought he was cuming, but he wasn’t. The pleasure was slow, and his professor was right it was so much better. It was building, low and deep in his lower stomach. A warm rut was burning and warmth spread across his folds. He could have sped it up by touching himself, but he wanted to see where this would go.

“H-hah…” Satoru found himself whimpering as he felt the cock drag along his walls and then slam back into him, just to repeat the agonizingly slow process. Fuck, it felt so good. And he knew that orgasm would be slow and drawn out, just like how his professor was fucking him. Ryomen’s mouth stayed on his neck, nibbling at the skin before making out with it like it was your second mouth. Tongue licked circles around your skin, before he rolled it around his teeth, then back to his tongue. Oh, he definitely had some kind of oral fixation. 

Sukuna was still grading, somehow. By God's strength and will, he was sloppily giving everyone A’s on an assignment they obviously Googled. His mind wasn’t on the stupid papers, it was on Satoru. How he smelt and especially how he felt. Walls clenched around his massive cock, which fluttered with each calculated thrust. It was so good, grinding up into him just to see the Twink's reaction. The professor couldn’t see it, but his student’s eyes were already back into his head, his hips fighting the urge to roll and speed up the friction.

“Grind back into me,” he soon cooed, warm sticky words clinging to his tongue as he groaned into Satoru’s ear, “Ye-a-ah, just like that,” Ryomen exhaled, pressing his forehead against his partner's nape, “Slowly now…” Satoru did exactly as he was told, slowly grinding back onto the cock he was warming. It was so agonizingly hot, feeling it drag in and out of his cunt and then this added friction. If he had a dick he’d be spurting bouts of cum everywhere by this point. I mean, he was close. So close he could practically see the orgasm on the horizon. Just a little bit more grinding.

It wasn’t until he started hearing Ryomen’s noises did it fully pushed him over the edge. It was a few grunts and panting breaths at first, but now he was divulging into being a slobbering mess. The student could feel drops of saliva fall onto his neck as he realized the professor was actively panting like a damn dog, sticking his tongue out as if it would enhance his pleasure. God, that was hot, and hearing him begin to lose his self-restraint was even hotter. His movements were slower, and his muscles were tense. Satoru knew he wanted to savor this as much as he, himself did. All that self-restraint was hot, but he wanted him to let go and fuck him into oblivion. 

When Satoru Gojo finally came, it was better than he could’ve expected. It was a fluttering clench deep in his pussy that erupted as his professor kept his thrusts taut. Warm waves of pleasure washed over him a few times until he let out a dramatic gasp and shudder, followed by a submissive sob. His body convulsed faster than the actual orgasm, which was the most painful part. The pleasure was so good, it was too intense. It almost hurt to move as he felt it wash over his clit and slowly begin to dwindle. That was until Ryomen let out a gasp and a guttural, “O-oh fuck,” and shot slow ropes of cum into his cunt. It sent a spike of sensitive pleasure in his pussy again and made the poor guy cry out. 

God! How much more intense could this shit get?

Professor Sukuna slowed his thrusts to a stop, dropping his pen onto the table and gripping the edge with white knuckles. Was that as good for him as it was for himself? I mean, he thought so. No man could have a mediocre orgasm and have that reaction. 

“Professo-” He was instantly cut off. 

“Call me Ryomen,” he rasped into his ear, a ragged breath being pulled from his lips. 

Oh. He must’ve really liked it then.

[depraveddame]

Zenith, a sequel to my kinky D/s Professor AU A Great Conjunction, is posted!

Hello darlings! I'm back with another installment of my feral professor and student AU ✨ After six weeks of beautifully agonizing waiting, Professor Fell realizes he cannot wait a second longer to properly fuck his student- he also realizes some of the reasons why he's been denying himself and his lover for so long, and that he also can't lie to himself for much longer.

CWs: D/s, Dom/gentle Dom Aziraphale, sub Crowley, Daddy kink, age difference, university professor/university student, first time anal sex after weeks of denial, rimming, pining, obscene dirty talk, praise/light degradation, begging, emotional sex, aftercare/sweetness/fluff- please read tags on AO3 for more!

Excerpt:

Perhaps Aziraphale’s aptitude does lie in his fingertips, but not by way of putting pen to paper; maybe it’s by touch that he’s meant to extol his student. It comes wonderfully easily to him, praising Crowley with his hands, and the response his fingers inspire seems to indicate he’s far more adept when it comes to this form of veneration rather than the written word.

As they face each other on the bed, Aziraphale scrawls his reverence over the curves and angles of Crowley’s body with fingers and thumbs that pay homage to his allure, his mouth inscribes its devotion and admiration on every freckle it can find and over each peak of bone that protrudes from argent skin, the invisible ink from his tongue leaving behind ephemeral, evaporating verses Aziraphale hopes will bleed beneath the surface of the vellum folio of his lover.

“How do you want to take my cock for the first time, my darling,” Aziraphale murmurs as he palms the dampened lace caging Crowley’s cock and the fingers of his other hand caress his slick entrance, teasingly dipping one past the ring of lax muscle and basking in the strangled whines that follow, "how will I first stake my claim of this body that's been positively aching to take me inside, that's been desperately pleading with me to make a home of it?"

“Oh, f-fuck,” Crowley pants, his entire body jolting as Aziraphale’s fingers play with him, “God, fuck— f-from behind. Laying down. Want you close, professor, and deep— fuck, I need all of you so fucking deep inside, please.”

*

Enjoy ♥️

@goodomensafterdark

[snowyquokka]

SECRET SECRET

K. SEUNGMIN

chapter 1

cw: swearing, fem reader, academic rivals, angst if you squint, both like each other but wont admit it

wc: 1.2k

a.n - welcome to my first full fic !! im super excited to share this and im actually really proud of it. happy reading <3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

You’re sitting at your usual spot in the library on your college campus when a book is slammed down on your table, ripping a yelp from your chest as you practically jump out of your skin. You look up to see a smug grin splayed on full, pale pink lips.

Brown eyes sparkle back at you mischievously and before he even opens his mouth, you just know he’s going to say something to purposely aggravate you.

“I don’t want to know, nor do I care.” you grumble before turning back to your book.

“Where the Crawdads Sing.” Seungmin hums, “Didn’t know you had taste,” You ignore him and turn the page.

He huffs and plops down in the seat next to you, his knee brushing against yours as he does.

You snap your head up and admit defeat, placing a bookmark where you left off.

“Since you so rudely interrupted me,”

He rolls his eyes in response to your complaint, “Here we go again,”

“Don’t give me that.” you snap, “You came over here unannounced while I was clearly doing something. So tell me, what is it that you want to brag about now? Hm? Perfect score on the English essay? No wait- I know, you’ve finally succeeded in ass kissing every professor in the building.”

The entire time you were ranting, Seungmin sat with his chin in his palm, face angled towards you. His grin never faltered, which in turn only pissed you off more.

You snap your book shut and move to stand before you feel a hand tug on your sleeve, forcing you to sit.

“I didn’t come over here to brag,” Seungmin readjusts in his chair so his knees are poking the side of your bare thigh, the sudden contact sending warmth throughout you.

“I was hoping we could- I don’t know. Maybe we could be at least civil with each other?.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and your eyes widen.

“C-Civil?” you sputter while searching his face for any trace of ulterior motives.

He nods and fidgets a little. That’s when you realize that he’s nervous.

Seungmin is anything but nervous when it comes to talking to you. He’s always confident while spewing whatever insults he can think of on the spot.

“I uhm- I think I owe you an apology.”

“Excuse me?” That’s not what you meant to say.

Though, you’re fairly certain that whatever you were going to say would’ve come out ten times worse.

“Yeah.” he winces, “Fuck- you know I’m bad at this kind of stuff,” Seungmin huffs and runs a hand through his blonde hair.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” his broad shoulders deflate and he looks like a weight was literally lifted off of him.

“You’re sorry?”

“Will you stop repeating me?” he scowls.

You can’t help but giggle a little, he couldn’t last two minutes into an apology without looking or sounding annoyed.

“‘M sorry. I just,” you bite your lip to stifle another laugh, “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day that Kim Seungmin apologized for- well, anything.”

He grumbles something incoherently and pushes his knee farther into your thigh. You swallow hard and look behind him at the now very interesting bookshelf.

Seungmin sighs and gets up without another word and leaves. You watch as he rounds the corner and slips through the door.

“What the hell just happened,” you blink and whisper to yourself.

After his sudden apology, Seungmin has avoided you for an entire week now. He won’t even spare you a glance. You’re complaining about it to your best friend, Hyunjin, who also happens to be close with Seungmin.

Small world.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what happened but, like, could you maybe talk to him about it? He’s been killing the mood lately.” Hyunjin brings his iced americano to his lips while you form a bewildered expression.

“Me? You want me to talk to him?” you scoff and lean back in your chair, “Why should I have to? He apologized, I listened. End. Of. Story.”

“Why are you always so stubborn,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, placing his coffee on the table.

“Ridiculous. Absolutely fucking ridiculous.” you huff and pinch the bridge of your nose. Hyunjin gives you an ‘are you serious’ look.

“If I let you put his number in my phone, will you shut up about it?” He grins and holds out his hand for you to give your phone to him. “And you’re buying me another coffee.”

[You] - cheer up

[Intellectual Demon] - who is this?

[You] - jinnie said that you’ve been a real downer since apologizing to me

[Intellectual Demon] - it’s not even that bad

[You] - i can feel the frown radiating off of you rn

[You] - it’s your aura.

Seungmin smiles to himself proudly. After all, it was his idea to get Hyunjin to give you his number.

Now all he has to do is convince you to meet with him. He’s got it all mapped out; you’ll meet with him at his place, he’ll confess, you’ll reciprocate his feelings and you live happily ever after.

The guy gets the girl, like he always does. It’s a simple, foolproof plan.

Right?

“Yeah, no thanks. I’m good.”

Wrong.

Seungmin was so wrong. Immediately after you pick up the phone he’s already hit with a groan and a ‘what do you want now?’ Nonetheless, he pushed through and asked you to go to his place. You declined, which shouldn’t have surprised him, but it does. Seungmin thought that if he apologized all would be forgiven and you would be more willing to speak to him.

Though, he can only blame himself. He fell-and crashed- first, hard. Instead of admitting his feelings to you, and himself, he tried his hardest to distance himself from you, making you find him unbearable to be around. It worked, of course.

Seungmin wishes it didn’t. He wishes he would’ve just grown a pair and told you. He wishes he didn’t feel so unlovable.

You, on the other hand, have attempted to make your attraction obvious. Someone can only take so much rejection, however. You stopped flirting, stopped even looking in his direction at one point. Seungmin made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you, and now that he’s apologized you can’t help but catch those feelings all over again.

“Please, just- what do I need to do for you to come here?” Seungmin’s voice echoes through your head, bouncing off the sides as you feel yourself slowly start to give in.

You seriously should stop being a pushover.

“Send me your address, I’ll be there soon.” There’s a pause at the end of the line when Seungmin mutes himself and screams into his pillow.

tags: @godslino @skzstarnet @anakin-sweetheart

dividers: @chaeneuu