#and my left hand is resting on his chest bc he likes to b hold

[milquetoad]

hate that my blanket is the exact shade of milo’s fur bc he is sleeping so cutely rn and even w flash you just canNOT see himb in a pic

[yesimwriting]

Understanding

Part 2:  Untethered  

A/n the reader in this is not the same reader as the one from my aemond fic, they just have a similar background for plot (and bc i love rhaenyra's child x alicent's child trope, it's so montagues and capulets)

Summary: After speaking to his mother and small council, Aegon begins to doubt the unspoken understanding between himself and Rhaenyra's intended heir, who agreed to be taken by the greens in exchange for her brother's life.

Warnings: there are some plot deviations (mainly the implication that aegon and helaena are not married), the whole ethical 'dating someone you're technically holding hostage' dilemma, and canon compliant incest

----

The groan of the floorboards takes its time floating through your apartments, the sound so soft you don't even stir.

Aegon sighs. You've been a ridiculously heavy sleeper since childhood. He can still recall the way you'd leave these very apartments for breakfast, hair unbrushed and eyes drowsy. He dismisses the thought as he takes another step forward. You're no longer a princess with the luxury of leisure. You're staying in what you consider 'enemy territory'. One would think you'd have the decency to struggle to find sleep. If nothing else, the decency to miss him.

He swallows. Thoughts of the corner of your mouth tugging itself into a smile you didn't mean to share, of your gentle whispers felt more than heard in the darkness, of the warmth of your fingertips dragging against his skin have plagued him since he left you this morning. Aegon has not been able to release you from his mind, and here you are, perfectly content without him in a room you are only allowed access to because of his favor.

If you continue to indulge her, she'll never feel like a prisoner. The echo of his mother's words feel sharper than they should, a needle piercing his chest. Aegon had originally dismissed the sentiment. Despite the complicated nature of your presence here, the two of you have found a sort of rhythm. An inconvenient understanding.

So what if he offers you privileges that none of his half-sister's children should be allotted? You dismiss your instincts in favor of being there for him in a way no one else is. You talk; and you listen; and you lay next to him in the dark, your fingers tracing patterns against his arm until you fall asleep.

Aegon had never felt affronted by the casualness of your unspoken arrangement until his mother brought him back to reality. As long as you allow her to exist in this in between without asking for anything in return, she will remain loyal to her mother. A mother who is desperate enough to marry her off to secure alliances.

The floor creeks as he takes another step forward, this time the sound less dismissible. You shift, body twisting as you move from your stomach onto your side.

A pinprick of something akin to guilt dulls the beginning of his spiral. You mumble a sound that feels like a question. Aegon studies your movements as you wipe at your eyes. You lift your head slightly, eyes squinting in the darkness.

"Aegon?" Your features seem to ease, a hint of a smile pulling at your lips as you lift your head. "I didn't think you had time for me tonight."

There's a gentleness to your voice that leaves his stomach in knots. He's lapped at your affection like a wounded dog finally stumbling onto water. Has it all been a ploy?

If his silence affects your disposition, you give no indication of it. Instead, you beam at him before allowing yourself to slump onto your back. You pull at the blankets in an attempt to create space for him.

Aegon keeps his back to you as he sits. He takes his time laying down, one of his arms resting in the space between the two of you. Still half asleep, you reach for him. The back of your palm brushes against his wrist. You turn your hand over, fingers beginning their familiar path up his arm.

His eyes remain open, his attention set on the ceiling. You've yet to finish outlining his forearm before Aegon's turning his arm. The shift is subtle, more of an implication than an actual attempt at dismissing you. The subtlety of the movement is not enough to prevent your reaction. Despite his jokes and teasing comments, Aegon knows better than to do anything that offers you an opportunity to overthink about your your time alone together. There's a moment of stillness, and then your hand leaves him.

You turn onto your side, the weight of your stare making it nearly impossible for Aegon to remain still. "Are you--are you alright?" The question is cautious, tinged by an uncertainty that makes you sound smaller than you ever have before.

Have you ever experienced any type of rejection before? You're Rhaenyra's first born, her intended heir. The beloved princess, doted on by your mother, cared for by your supposed father, spoiled by your grandsire. His father's illness was never enough to keep him from you, the only child he had the strength to get out of bed for. You don't know what it's like to long for anything.

"We had an arrangement--an agreement." Aegon pushes himself away from you as he sits. You prop your head up, staring at him. Aegon cannot bring himself to look into your eyes. "That I'd be honest with you, and you'd be honest with me."

You sit up. "What?" You bend your knees, the sheets slipping down your legs. Aegon presses his nails into the skin of his palm. "I've--I've been honest. I've never lied to you."

The defense comes out so quick and innocent it nearly strips the accusation of any weight. It's a response that'd better suit a child caught stealing extra sweets or rough housing with a younger sibling.

He finally turns his head. The room's lack of light is not enough to diminish your wide eyes. You're radiating such innocence Aegon could choke on it. He's reminded of why he kept you at arm's length throughout your childhood. The good, perfect daughter. The future heir.

"You said your mother had no intentions of marrying you off. That you were not betrothed--"

"I'm not."

Aegon lets out a breath. "Then why did I have to spend most of my evening listening to my small council discuss your mother's latest potential alliances and addressing rumors about your mother's plan to marry you to some lord as a way of securing their support?"

You're quiet for a moment, hands clasped tightly around your knees. "I cannot help rumors." Some odd feeling gnaws at Aegon's stomach. "And you know that I haven't been home in some time. I can't control my mother anymore than you can control yours."

What a politically appropriate answer. He scoffs. "I find it difficult to believe that your mother would ever use you as a bargaining chip without--at the very least--mentioning it to you first."

If there's one thing that doesn't come naturally to you, it's deception. You tilt your chin downwards, your attention falling onto anything that isn't him.

Aegon reaches for your hand. You let him untangle your fingers. He pulls your hand forward, his thumb dragging against your knuckles. His hold on you tightens as he brings the back of your palm to his lips. A part of him is repulsed by how much he means the gesture.

He doesn't let go of you as he brings his hand back to the mattress. Aegon allows himself a moment to embrace the stillness, and then he's shifting forward. His available hand finds your shoulder. His weight presses against you, forcing you back until you're pinned against the headboard.

He holds his breath, waiting for some kind of protest, some insult or attempt to push him away. All you do is watch him, the slightest crease between your eyebrows. "Aegon."

"Tell me." Aegon's fingers press into your shoulder. "Tell me it isn't true and I will believe you. I want to believe you."

Your lips part, but you do not speak. An uncomfortable heat burns its way up his neck. "I--I did not lie." You hold his gaze. "I am not betrothed, but before I was brought here, my mother did mention that she was beginning to consider it."

All of the time he's spent indulging in your presence, living out some ridiculous fantasy of having your attention, believing everything you've told him--he's been nothing more than a fool.

"I wanted to mention it when you asked, but I was..." Your voice wavers. "Honestly, I was afraid."

His gaze falls downwards, his eyes unintentionally landing on your lips. "Because you needed me."

"No." You shake your head slightly, the motion rigid. "Our understanding," you pause, lips briefly pressing together, "Our friendship, was so new and uncertain--and I was afraid of ruining it, of being alone here, of--of the potential engagement. All of it." Your eyes are shinier than they were a moment ago. "I wanted to pretend it didn't exist."

This is the first time you've ever given any indication of not naturally taking to your responsibilities. You agreed to be taken hostage in exchange for your brother's life with little complaint or theatrical martyrism, but the thought of marrying a stranger to aid your mother's war effort shakes you to your core.

Sympathy and petulant satisfaction blend together uneasily, a continuation in the cycle of wanting you while also desiring to take everything from you.

His thumb drags down your shoulder, the warmth of your skin nearly dizzying. "Would you do it if she asked?"

You swallow. "It wouldn't matter. I'm here." He continues to trace a pattern against your shoulder. You squeeze his hand. "You can't have a wedding without the bride."

You're holding onto him with an intensity that's easing. "And if you weren't?"

As silence falls over the two of you, Aegon studies your expression. You're giving him very little to work with. "I wouldn't have a choice." Anything you've had with him has been out of the sake of convenience. It doesn't matter to you. "Aegon, you--you understand that." His lips part, but he has no response worth giving. "You have to understand that."

Aegon's hold on your hand tightens, fingers digging into into the skin of your palm. "Why?" The desperation in the question turns his stomach. He shifts his weight away from you, his hand trailing down your arm. "Do you care for me?"

Your straighten, back pulling away from the headboard. Aegon cannot will himself to read your features. "Do I care for you?" There's a barely there lilt to your voice that only makes it impossible for him to just sit there.

He forces himself to focus on the crumpled sheets in front of him. Something warm finds its way to his cheek--your hand. Your thumb drags itself across the side of his face. Aegon allows his eyes to fall shut. Gently, you guide his head forward.

"Aegon." He opens his eyes. "How many times have I been alone with you, have I--have I slept in the same bed as you?" You stumble, eyes briefly leaving his. Aegon can't help his slight smile. While you've always known about the impropriety of sleeping next to him, he doubts you know why it's viewed that way. You let out a breath in an attempt to recover. "I have risked my reputation, risked betraying my own mother--and you have to ask."

Aegon's vision blurs. He presses his lips together, forcing himself to not look away. "Of course I care for you."

He places a hand over the one you placed on his cheek. There's a lot of responses that Aegon should offer you, some declaration, some assurance of his fondness for you, but he's never been particularly talented at expressing the sentimental.

His fingers bend around your own, carefully pulling your hand away from his cheek. He sets your hand down on the mattress gently. You blink at him curiously, but before you can overthink the action, Aegon's shifting forward.

He presses his lips against yours. You're rigid, body still until he pulls your bottom lip between both of his. Aegon moves closer, one hand finding the back of your head. You lean forward, arms wrapping around his neck. You move your weight onto your knees, Aegon's available hand coming to your waist to keep you stable.

Aegon's head tilts back, creating space that you're more than ready to fill. His teeth tug at your bottom lip. You hands slide away from his neck, down his shoulders, settling on his chest. Aegon's hand moves away from your hip, coming to rest on your thigh.

The need for air brings him back to reality. Aegon breaks the kiss slowly, pulling away without letting you go. For a moment, all he can do is grin at you as you both catch your breath. "If I had known you had it in you, Princess..."

The use of your title seems to make you realize that you're still practically on his lap. You move back, making a point of sitting up straight. You roll your eyes, but between your ragged breaths and inability to lift your gaze, the look falls flat.

You keep your legs between the two of you, a barrier that bends at your knees. Aegon's smile broadens. He's not sure he's ever seen you so unsure of yourself. "I--that wasn't..."

"You can relax." You finally look up again, eyebrows drawn together in what he assumes is a display of skepticism. "I won't tell anyone." His hand find your lower leg, fingers tracing a delicate pattern against your skin. "And if anyone accuses you of anything, I'll have their tongue."

He sets his hand against your knee, his touch growing in security. You stare at your leg incredulously. "Aegon."

"What?" His thumb trails across your skin. "Would you prefer their head?"

You tilt your head, expression unamused. Aegon smiles, leaning forward to place a quick kiss against your knee before moving towards his original spot. You turn your head, watching him carefully.

Aegon lets out a sigh as he sinks into a pillow. "I'm tired."

You lay down next to him. "I didn't realize I wore you out."

The grin in your voice is audible. Aegon uses his forearm for support as he lifts himself to lean over you. "Do not start something you can't finish."

The corner of your mouth pulls itself upwards, the look similar but not quite the same as the accidental smiles Aegon has grown accustomed to. He smiles as he lies down, his head resting against your upper stomach.

You're quick to accept the proximity, your hand moving to smooth through his hair. Aegon's arm settles against your waist. This newfound closeness is nearly overwhelming in the relief it offers him. The feeling grabs at him, forcing out words he is not ready to say, "We could always get married." He tries to swallow, but the dryness of his mouth makes it impossible. "Then your mother wouldn't be able to marry you off to anyone."

Your fingers stall against his scalp. "Aegon--"

"I'd be a good husband to you."

At your silence, his fingers press into your side as if you might slip away if given the chance. After a beat, your nails begin to brush through his hair again. "You are thinking of the war, of your claim, of--of your small cou--"

"I am thinking of you."

You let out a sigh Aegon feels more than hears. "We need to be realistic. Would my mother's retaliation not concern you?"

He forces himself to focus on your tangibility. "The only thing concerning me is figuring out how to keep you here as long as possible." He drags his knuckles against your hip. "You once told me that you'd never get married, and that instead you'd spend your life riding dragons and eating cake."

You let out a soft laugh. "I can't believe you remember that."

"You sounded very serious." Aegon releases your side in favor of finding your hand. His fingers trace patterns against your palm. "We could get married and spend our days riding dragons and eating cake."

Your drag your hand away from his head, palm settling against his back. You begin to smooth circles against the fabric of his shirt. "Now you be serious."

Aegon intertwines your fingers, squeezing your palm to his. "I know better than to jest about cake."

You're so quiet he'd assume you fell asleep if it wasn't for the patterns still being traced against his spine. "Can we just...can we give it some time?"

He's not sure what you expect to get from time. The realm will still be divided, his half-sister will only grow more desperate and willing to marry you off for support, and his mother will continue to question why he's keeping you in this limbo. But the request is far from a rejection.

You've always been practical, the kind of person to think through prospects instead of trusting your instinct. Aegon is your best option, the closest thing you have to a lifeline. The way you feel about him has already encouraged you to cross lines you would have never considered approaching. Perhaps time and his attention will be what it takes to put it all into perspective for you.

Aegon lifts your hand to his mouth, his lips brushing against your knuckles. "We can give it all the time you need, Princess."

You mumble something he can't quite make out. Before Aegon can ask about it, your hand stills against him. Without looking up, he knows that you've fallen asleep.

----

A/n i had to throw in a little alicent and rhaenyra parallel <3 i could see myself writing a part 2 to this so if you like that idea lmk!! or if u want more hotd in general :)

[revasserium]

Im here to say that college!au opla!zoro is your most superior zoo version yet. Please share any more thoughts you have on this cute couple!!!! I love their dynamic so much

listen;;;;;; i love college!au opla!zoro so much. so…… because i am… unwell about this man, sfw and nsfw headcanons/snippets of college!au opla!zoro (most of this is based on the death before decaf fic where zoro is a fencer and reader is a physical therapy major):

sfw:

afternoon naps on the ratty old couch in the living room of his dorm; luffy is his roommate who is simultaneously never there but also randomly always there at the weirdest most inopportune moments

“what did you say he studies?” “uh… something about international policy but he got in on a sports scholarship too.” “yeah? what’s he do?” “gymnastics.” “wait — seriously?” “yeah he’s /weird/ flexible.”

sharing pizza at midnight, sitting in his lap as he scrolls through highlight reels of past olympic fencing bouts, his chin occasionally brushing against your shoulder as he explains all the different rules and moves; you can feel the light stubble, feel the deep rumble of his voice along your arm where it’s pressed against his chest

him kissing you awake, opening your eyes to find him smiling, smirking, more like — “morning…” “mornin’. you were drooling on my pillow.” “shut up!” “nah, it was cute.” more kissing, you trying to shove his face into the pillow, him easily pinning you beneath him, arching an eyebrow; you sigh, blushing, “it’s too early for this.” “it’s never too early for this.”

jerking apart when you both hear luffy’s voice shouting from the living room, “have fun you guys! i’m going to usopp’s to watch the game! don’t forget to hydrate and take breaks! oh — and i left guac for you guys in the fridge!”

“i thought he was gone!” “i thought so too —” zoro groaning when you hear the door slam, burying his face in your shoulder

study sessions where he’s just doing weight training in the corner and it takes everything you have not to be distracted by the shape of him, shirtless, powering through reps of bicep curls, when he drops to the ground for pushups, the way he grins when he catches you staring and asks if you want to help hold his feet down for situps

coffee runs in the morning, standing in line with his arm draped around your shoulders; nami grinning, “see? toldya making out would’ve solved things.”

pecks goodbye in front of the main lecture building, hearing the way the rest of the fencing team hoots after you turn away, hearing zoro loudly telling them to shut the fuck up if they don’t want their asses beat

him blushing up a storm when you wrap your scarf around him and scold him again for forgetting his own, saying that he needs to take better care of his body if he’s gonna make it to the olympics; him scoffing and looking away and, “well… i’ve got you to take care of it for me, don’t i?”

nsfw: (mdni beyond this point pls)

fucking the locker rooms post bout, his hand cushioned behind your head because say what you will about jock!zoro but he’s still something of a gentleman

netflix and chill saturday nights bc he doesn’t have practice sunday mornings and he’s not about to let all that time to go waste; leaving the tv on as he pulls you over his lap, fingers dancing up the sides of your waist, pressing you down over his cock, groaning when he fists his hands in your hair and pulls

drunk!fucking at frat parties in strangers bedrooms, bc who tf cares who this room belongs to as long as there’s a bed and a door that somewhat locks and sure, the sheets are gonna smell like sex after you’re finished but who’s gonna try and fuck with you when zoro’s always got an arm around you, when he’s got you tucked into his side whenever you’re together, even if it’s just studying at the library or sitting at lunch in the dining commons

the most jealous, possessive sex… bc. zoro doesn’t share.

making out in the stacks bc you said you were getting a reference book but you were gone a bit too long and zoro had come to “find you” only to find you trying to reach a book on a level that’s just a bit too high; him reaching up to pull it down for you, pressing a hand to your lower stomach and pulling you back against his chest, “need some help, princess?”

fumbling back to his dorm after said failed study session in the library, him kicking the door shut and tossing you on his bed, him mumbling some cheesy line about needing to brush up on his anatomy before pushing your knees up and burying his face between your thighs

[manicpixiedreamjop]

those prompts r SO CUTE either breathe or stop w solving ? bc we were talking abt them being protective of each other the other day 👀💕

stop - muse a holds muse b back from walking back out into the fray

Lieutenant Irving is still. Painfully, unnaturally still, his face white as snow, a pale and awful contrast to the splatter of bright red blood still visible across the corner of his mouth. Solomon doesn’t know where this particular blood even came from, whether it was John’s himself, or Solomon’s, or god forbid Cornelius Hickey’s, but as he looks at it he is struck by the memory of a story, told to him as a child. Skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood. Solomon almost laughs — a nauseating, manic feeling. Lieutenant Irving, a princess. He is as pretty as one, Solomon supposes, and prim and proper too, and dressed in those robes at Carnivale, when he had stumbled, drunkly, cheeks flushed, into Solomon, and his hands had lingered on Solomon’s chest just a moment too long — Solomon shakes his head, ridding it of the memory. It feels almost disrespectful to Irving to think of him like that right now, and even more so to think of their other interactions from the last several months, every lingering glance and brush of their bodies. There is every chance Solomon was imagining it, or that even if he hadn’t been that Irving never would have acted on it, no matter how big and frightening and important whatever was building between them felt to Solomon. There is every chance too, that Solomon will never find out either way, not when John — Irving, he forces himself to think, only Irving, not when the only time he’d received permission to use the Lieutenant’s Christian name had been that night at Carnivale, when Irving had been too far gone to censor himself — is laying there with that many stab wounds in his chest and a splatter of blood across his mouth that could belong to anyone.

Solomon should have known better. He should have paid more attention to Hickey’s strange comments the last few days about Solomon’s distraction, his commitment to survival. About how they couldn’t risk having any attachments left to the rest of the camp when they made their move. He should have listened when Hickey told him what he was, and now John — Irving — is laying here bleeding out and Solomon can’t do anything about it.

Well.

There is one thing he could do about it. He had fought Hickey off of Irving, had fought him hard enough to nearly knock him unconscious, and now he sits, bound and watched, not three tents away. Solomon is a Sergeant of the marines, he has the authority to force his way inside. He’ll be court martialed and hanged for it, if he kills Hickey in there in broad daylight, but doesn’t he deserve it? Shouldn’t he die for allowing this to happen to John — Irving — no, John.

He leans down, brushing his lips to John’s forehead, and then he turns to leave the tent.

There are cold fingers at his wrist.

He starts, turning back, and John’s eyes are open, his hand barely raised, grip weak. Solomon could pull away easily, but he doesn’t. He turns back completely, and he lets himself fall to his knees at John’s side.

“Solomon,” whispers John, voice weak and pained. “Where are you going?”

“I—” Solomon chokes out. “Hickey.”

“He… He did this to me.”

“He did,” says Solomon. His voice is thick, and it takes him a moment to realise he’s crying.

John’s hand, still pale and shaky, raises again, brushing his fingertips across Solomon’s face. “You saved my life.”

“I didn’t— it’s my fault.”

“You saved my life,” John says again.

“I have to— He’s still alive, John. He can’t— I can’t let him—”

John shushes him, eyes already fluttering closed again, and lets his hand drop so it’s rested on top of Solomon’s where it clings to the edge of his bed. “Just stay with me. Please.”

“I—”

“Please.”

Solomon nods, even though John’s eyes have already fallen closed, and swallows hard around the lump in his throat. “Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll stay.”

[indouloureux]

no bc that drabble about soft sex with eddie has done something to me augie-

i had a (basically prophetic) vision of riding eddie and like holding his hands like that way where ur fingers are linked and ur like FULLY holding his hands and ur fingers are in between each of his and its just so cute and you both can't stop smiling and lszidufhlifuisjks

(i think the brain rot has finally gotten to me, babe)

-jorj👻

18+ mdni NO BECAUSE i told myself i wouldn't write other things until i finished this 20k fluff BUT

somehow bauhaus's third uncle had moans and grunts and skins slapping now. it had eddie's delirious groans, your high-pitched whimpers and the applaud of your flesh as you bounce on your lover's lap with all the vigor you've mustered.

"that's it, baby," eddie's head throws back against the couch, his hair sticking to his bare chest, an ophidian curl covering the demon right above his heart. he watches his cock disappear in and out of your gummy cunt, his hairy thighs sticky with your mixed arousals. "keep bouncing that pretty body,"

you do. with your hands on his shoulders, fingers loosely tangled in his disheveled mullet, your own hair moved to one side over your left collarbone that just makes the right side of your face so ethereal with the glisten of your sweat; eyes scrunched in ecstasy as your plump lips exude moans that eddie finds himself getting harder if possible.

"fuckin' ozzy, eds," ozzy, his own term for god in his own blissful moments that you'd picked up from him. your boyfriend smiles in his heavy gaze, lips lazy and yearning. "feels s-so good."

your head throws back, presents him his own purple-yellow art work created by love bites and starved sucklings. and he finds himself leaning up to press ever-so chaste kisses onto your neck, riding his lips up to your collarbone until he finds your wet lips.

he kisses you. feverish, hot, amorous. in that frenzied moment, he kisses you like you're in a field up a hill beneath the morphing clouds. with blooming flowers tickling your ankles and the ruffles of your dress grazing his knees exposed from his ripped jeans; like you're not both naked, covered in slick and producing wet squelches from your wild sexes. no, he kisses you, righteous in his own want.

"you look beautiful, honey," he murmurs against your soft skin, finds comfort in it. "like...a slayer. slayer of dragons and all men. you've slayed my heart actually. kept it all to yourself riiight after."

"how–c-can you talk so—...so casually while i'm fucking you?" you laugh incredulously, eyes shut with your eyebrows joint into concentration and forced energy.

"its a talent, i guess," he kisses your temple. "i can be blissed and talk about how beautiful you are at the same time, you little devil."

"thought i was a slayer?"

"you can be a lot of things. a lot of things but you're still you, huh. you, the one that i love," he tucks your hair behind your ear, sees the small dollar-store pearl earring that he bought you and swoons.

you sigh against him. "such a sap, babe,"

he kisses you again.

eddie's hands roam from your waist up to your tatted arms, inked drawings he put on you himself that he traces with his thumb until his fingers slither up to find yours and lace them together.

he pries your lips apart in a soft click, a string of saliva coming with because despite the doting moment, you still are cock drunk. you lazily grin at him, flashing him your pearls that makes him turn liquid and melts back into the backseat of his couch, taking your hand into his and placing them on his chest.

even in moments that don't burn in corybantic lust, he finds himself falling deeper for you. with the sun shining through the trailer blinds and gives you an incandescent glow, his thumbs trace your knuckles, eyes drooping when you clench around his cock and he moans. you smile tiredly, bringing your joint hands up to your lips and kiss its back, before you rest them back to his chest.

he feels you clench a couple more times before you cum onto him and he spills his hot seed into you, moans joined when he kisses you again just because, your hands laced like a delicate silk ribbon, sitting between your bodies to remedy your aching limbs.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

[avenging-fandoms]

PLS he'd come home with a bloody face and blood knuckles bc he got into a fight with a pogue about something stupid, but it actually seems as if he hurt himself and he doesn't stop you from helping him, since you're the only one thats really given him affection

*i know this isn't normally how rafe acts, but sometimes we can imagine things and enjoy fluff sometimes! :)

“rafe? rafe!” you shouted as you lounged in the pool, but he just looked at you and walked inside. you huffed and quickly got out of the pool. you wrapped your towel around your body, sliding on your flip flops and running up to rafe’s room.

the door was closed and you knocked softly. “go away” rafe mumbled and you sighed.

“can’t get rid of me that easy, sugar” you smile as you enter the room, but the smile soon dropped when you saw him sitting on the edge of his bed, knuckles and mouth bloody. “rafe!” you sprinted over to him and sat next to him, lightly holding his chin and turning his head to face you.

“i told you to go away” he whispered and you shook your head, tears softly pooling your eyes. “i didn’t want you to see me like this”

“rafe, what the hell happened?!” you took your towel off and tried to wipe away the blood, but it was dry. “was this a while ago? what happened?!”

“those stupid pogues, yn! there was 3 of them and one of me!" he exclaimed and you watched as he got up, placing his hand on his hip and he took a breath. i sat in my car for a while because i didn't want to come home and have you see me like this"

"rafe.." your voice was soft, heading over to him and replacing his hands on his hips, ear to his chest as you listened to his quickened heart beat. "was it john b and them?" rafe shook his head, and you sighed. "but you didn't see who it was?"

"i did see who it was, yn, i just said they were pogues" rafe's voice had a hint of attitude and you chose to ignore it. you pull away and look up at him, studying the cuts on his face.

"head to the bathroom for me, okay? i'll meet you in there after i change" rafe just looked at you, holding your hand. "what?"

"i don't.. i don't want to be alone, yn" rafe whispered and you nodded, hugging him. rafe let out a soft cry and rested his cheek on top of your head, holding onto you tightly.

"i'm not going anywhere, rafe. i promise. i'll meet you in the bathroom to clean you up, i just have to change before i get hypothermia" you joke and rafe chuckles, sniffling.

"okay" he whispered and kissed your forehead, wiping his nose and heading into his bathroom. you took a deep breath and dug in his closet, finding an old pair of his shorts, tying them so they fit. you took off your bathing suit and draped it over the back of his chair, sliding on one of his shirts.

you put out a t-shirt and sweatpants on his bed for him to change in after you cleaned him up. rafe sat on the edge of his bathtub with his jacket off, a giant bruise on his arm. "oh my boy.." you whisper, running your hand over his hand and kissing the top of it. "do you want to take a shower or a bath?"

"i.. uh.." rafe was shaking, and you hated seeing him like this. normally he was confident, cool as a cucumber. but he was shaking, vulnerable, and it broke your heart. "a.. shower. can you use that nice smelling shampoo?" you smile and nod, running the water and he checks it, nodding. you put the shampoo out and hold the hem of his shirt, rafe placing his hand on top of yours.

you pulled the polo off and held a gasp as you saw his cuts, bruises, and new scars. you felt sick to your stomach. your fingers shook as they hover over the cuts, tears in your eyes. "my god.. rafe.. you should have called me, baby"

"i was embarrassed" rafe was always honest with you. never once did he lie to you, he vowed never to. "can i get in now?"

"of course" rafe stood up and took off his pants, underwear, socks and shoes. even if you two had been dating for 2 years, you still looked away until he submerged himself under the water.

"you're safe now, ray" you whisper, holding his cheek and rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

"can you get in with me?" rafe's eyes finally met yours and you nodded, smiling at him. you took off the shirt and shorts, stepping into the steaming shower. you squirted some of the shampoo in your hand and massage it into his scalp. rafe closed his eyes and sighed at your soft touch.

rafe wasn't used to this. he wasn't used to soft touches, he wasn't used to soft words. rafe was a different person around you, he was kind. he was smiley, he was happy.

rafe rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and looked down at you as you softly touched his cuts, cleaning them and cleaning off the dirt. you stopped when he hissed, and continued when he nodded.

the shower relaxed your boyfriend and you two got out. rafe wrapped the towel around his waist and you wrapped it around your body, rafe sitting on the cover of the toilet. you cleaned his knuckles and wrapped them, bandaging the cuts that were deep and kissing his cheeks.

"yn.." you hum and he takes your hand, kissing your palm. "thank you.. for.. everything you do for me" rafe's voice was quiet and every time he was quiet you had to make sure it was actually him.

"anything for you, rafe. i love you" you smile and hold his chin, kissing him softly. you left the bathroom and dried yourself, putting on the clothes again. rafe dried himself off and changed into the clothes you gave him, laying on his bed.

you opened his balcony doors and stepped out, staring out at the moon and stars. rafe looked over at you and rolled onto his side, resting his head on his bicep. you looked at him over your shoulder and waved him over.

rafe stood up and headed over to you, his arm over your shoulders. rafe was behind you with your hands holding onto his arm. you kissed his bicep and rested your head back against his chest, looking out at the water.

"i wish everything was this calm forever" you mumble against his skin, rafe rocking back and forth softly. "i wish we could run away, rafe"

"soon, i promise. anywhere you want to go" he whispered in your hair and you nod. rafe closed his eyes and laid his chin on top of your head. "i love you"

"i love you too, rafe" you two stood there for a few minutes, soaking it all in, the calm before the storm. "let's go lay down, baby. you've had a long day" you took his hand and pulled him into his room. you and rafe snuck under his blankets, rafe holding you tightly as you traced down his nose. "if you're ever in trouble again, rafe cameron, you c-"

"call you. i got it now" he whispered, kissing you softly. you pulled back and looked at him, hand on his chest. "i promise" you nod and kiss him again, hugging him.

"and.. don't go looking to get your revenge on them. i know it was hard but.. i don't want to clean you up like this again, ray. i hate seeing you hurt"

"i won't, i promise you, sweetheart" he rubbed his nose against yours, thumb against your jaw. he kissed you again, pulling you tightly to him. "i promise" he whispered, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep as you drew patterns into his back.

rafe wanted to cry when he felt your soft touches, the feeling foreign to him. you vowed to him to always be kind to him, and that vow you kept, even when he did something stupid and made you angry, you still scolded him in a nice way. and rafe listened more to you than to anyone when he wasn't screamed at.

rafe felt loved, safe, vulnerable around you. he never felt like that before with anyone. rafe made you feel protected, heard, beautiful. you two needed each other, and neither of you were letting go any time soon.

[babybluebex]

laszlo kreizler nsfw alphabet

so yeah this... Happened. the zemo version is coming soon, stay tuned! (probably tomorrow morning bc a bitch is tired lmao)

(gif credit to @lindir)

A = Aftercare.

Laszlo is such an aftercare king. He’s checking on you in every way he can think of: asking you if you feel alright, maybe massaging your hips if he had you in a weird position, offering you dinner or wine, maybe even a hot bath, if you’d like (and the bath would have special perfumed oils he had sent from Paris because Laszlo is SUCH a self care whore, he’s got soaps and perfumes out the wazoo).

B = Body Part.

His favorite part of yours are your breasts. No questions, hands down. He likes using your breasts as a pillow at night— just settling himself between your legs and resting his head on your tits is a dream he indulges in frequently. He also really loves seeing you in the new French-style of dresses that have a lower neckline, and, if you wear one of those dresses to dinner without telling him beforehand, he’s as good as gone. He’s staring the whole time and can only manage simple sentences.

C = Cum.

I think Laszlo likes to cum inside you, but he also wouldn’t mind cumming on your tits. If you’re on your knees, sucking him off, he’ll pull himself out of your mouth and almost rip your blouse in his haste to set your tits free before his orgasm rips through him. He only chooses to cum inside you if he can’t cum on your tits (for example, if you’re having slow, kissy sex and he can’t bear to leave your wet heat).

D = Dirty Secret.

Laszlo. Loves. To. Be. Degraded. From a psychological standpoint, he understands that his desire to be brought down and ridiculed is born from some sort of childhood trauma that DEFINITELY involves his father, but he just can’t help himself from getting so ridiculously turned on when you call him a dog for humping your leg while you try to sleep. Bonus points if you use his title while you do it: “Just like a little bitch in heat, aren’t you, Doctor Kreizler? You’re so aroused, you can hardly handle yourself. Are you too dumb to touch your own cock? Do you need me to do it? Oh, Doctor, what a dumb little thing you are.”

E = Experience.

Even Daniel himself has said that Laszlo has like NO experience. Laszlo got ZERO bitches (which I find hard to believe but ok whatever you say, writers of The Alienist), so, the first time y’all have sex, he’s more likely than not losing his virginity (let’s not get into the debate of “virginity is a social construct” because a.) IT IS and b.) Laszlo would lecture for hours about this). HOWEVER, these things come naturally to him. He is just Good In Bed. He figures it out very quickly, so, while you make fun of him for going a little stupid when he’s aroused, he makes up for it by bruising your cervix and apologizing later.

F = Favourite Positions.

Laszlo loves that soft, slow, kissy sex, so he’s into whatever position makes it possible for him to be inside you and to kiss you at the same time. Missionary is a go to, but sometimes he’ll have you sit on his desk and kiss your neck as he hikes your skirts up and fucks you all slow and nice.

G = Goofy.

Hardly ever? Laszlo is pretty serious most of the time, and the only time we ever see him Not Serious in the show is when he’s wasted after John’s bachelor party in season 2. So, maybe y’all went to dinner at Delmonico’s, then a ball for members of high society, and he had a little too much champagne and schnapps. He’s not like giggling and all, but his cheeks are red and he’s smiling more than usual, and calling you sweet names “Oh, mein Kätzchen” and “Meine kleine Prinzessin”. That’s Laszlo’s version of goofy.

H = Hair.

OK, my train of thought here is: LOOK AT THIS MAN’S BEARD. HIS BEARD IS NICE AS SHIT. If he treats his facial hair that good— regular trims, the beard oils we all know he uses, even if it isn't strictly canon— then his downstairs hair is nice too. Definitely soft, if maybe a little wiry sometimes (but tbh whose isn’t), and it’s a nice little cropping at the base of his cock. He also has a thin happy trail up his soft tummy, and a good amount on his chest (as we see in the show lol that much is canon).

I = Intimacy.

Laszlo is ALL ABOUT intimacy. You’ll know he’s in a ~mood~ because you’ll ask what’s being served at Delmonico’s that night, and Laszlo is like “I thought we might stay in tonight. John gave me his grandmother’s recipe for chicken soup”. He’ll light candles and pour you wine and play nice music on his gramophone, and he’ll romance you throughout dinner with little hand touches and sly smiles, until he’s kneeling in front of you and slowly kissing up your leg.

J = Jack-Off.

Honestly, he hardly does it. Of course, I’m sure he did it A LOT before he met you, but now he doesn’t need to pleasure himself anymore. He’s got you to do that. The only exception is if he has to travel for work and you can’t go with him. Even then, he’ll hold off until he absolutely can’t stand it, and then he’ll like read a letter you sent him or look at a sketch that John did of you while he whacks off; sometimes, he’ll just hold your letter to his face, and the faint trace of your perfume is enough to do the job.

K = Kink.

He likes impact play a lot (and perhaps a little roleplay wrapped up in it). On the rare occasion that his fucking is anything but soft and lovely, he’s gonna be hitting your ass and the backs of your thighs as you cling to him while he rails you stupid. Laszlo would try to hit your cheek, but he feels too bad when you wince at the pain of it. Spanking your tits is good to him too. His favorite though (and here’s where the roleplay comes in), is caning your ass. He’ll bend you over the desk in his home office and pull your skirts up past your hips, and he’ll make you count the amount of times his thick wooden cane connects with your soft asscheeks. The roleplay is, more often than not, you were his assistant who did something wrong and needed to be punished. If you miss one or forget to thank him accordingly “Thank you, sir”, he’ll focus the next hit on your thighs.

L = Location.

Either the bed or his desk. Laszlo is a little older (I don’t think we ever get an explicit age? But if we say he’s the same age as Daniel, then he’s 40 to 42-ish) so he can’t do it against a wall or anywhere too crazy (not to mention his right arm can hardly support much weight, so if he needs to hold you up, it’s probably not gonna happen). The bed is a special time for you two because of his arm; he’ll hold himself up with his left arm and rest his hand on your hip or wherever to give himself at least a little leverage. But the desk is usually easier because you can sit, or you can bend over and he can grab your hip.

M = Motivation.

He loves you and wants to worship you. It’s truly as simple as that. He loves you and thinks that you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, and he wants to show his reverence for you by making love to you.

N = No.

He can’t get into the role of “daddy”, nor can he call you “mommy”. Childhood trauma aside, he will be goddamned if Sigmund fucking Freud is correct about his bullshit Oedipus complex or whatever, so he just eliminates that whole thing entirely.

O = Oral.

He’s very good at it. He’s just… His lips are soft and his beard is good, and he’s not afraid to get a little messy with it. He’ll eat you out until he absolutely has to come up for air, and he’ll have a little bit of your wetness clinging to his mustache, but then he’s right back in it. His medical degree is also put to good use here because he remembers his female anatomy and he’s locked onto your clit the entire time. The first time you ever squirted, it was because Laszlo was nipping at your clit and sucking your wet little hole and pressing his thick fingers into you, and it was A Lot To Process, but you squirted and Laszlo came in his pants instantly because he’s like “I didn’t think women could actually do that… I thought that was a thing that penny novels made up”

P = Pace.

Again, he’s a little older, so he doesn’t fuck like some wild boy. He takes his time with you, touching you and caressing you and kissing you, and his pace is the same way. He’s slow and gentle, but has the capacity to go faster and harder if you ask for it.

Q = Quickie.

Hates them. Never. Never ever ever. If he can’t properly romance you and take his time with you, then what’s the point??

R = Risk.

Surprisingly, Laszlo is a little schemer, and he loves running a risk. He’s already looked down upon by other society members, so what’s the harm in squeezing your ass at a party? PERHAPS it’s inappropriate to get caught in a dark corner with your hand down his trousers and him kissing your neck, but it’s easy to blame it on the alcohol.

S = Stamina.

Once more, he is firmly middle aged, so he can do one round— maybe two, if he’s feeling particularly frisky. Usually, though, one is more than enough for both of you.

T = Toy.

HAVE YALL SEEN SEX TOYS FROM THE 1890S?? SHITS ARE SCARY. Laszlo does not like toys, but he understands their need for existing, so he may not like them but he tolerates them. That being said, he likes to watch you use them. LIke, he’ll sit in a chair by the bed and request you “put on a good show”, and he’ll watch you fall apart, and he’ll only come and touch you if you beg and plead for him to.

U = Unfair.

Mhm, so, in Laszlo’s mind, sex and pleasure are not just a give and take, it’s a two way street. They can (and often need to) coexist. He doesn’t like to initiate something if you won’t be able to reciprocate, so he’s not too into teasing or things. At the aforementioned parties, he’ll only goose your ass if he knows you’re 100% down for it.

V = Volume.

He’s fairly quiet. His mouth is usually really close to your ear, and you’re the only one who gets to hear his pretty little noises. The loudest he’ll be is when he’s come home after traveling and it’s felt like ages since he’s made love to you, he’s gonna come inside you, and his little gasp and moan are louder than usual.

W = Wild Card.

He is down to be tied up. He doesn’t like to tie you up, but if he’s the one being restrained, he’s all over it. It’s nothing too intense, just using a ribbon for your hair to tie his left hand to the headboard, not super tight but enough to make his fingers a little tingly, but he loves it. He loves the switch of the dynamic, how he’s fully at your mercy and you can use him however you please; usually, you just suck him off and ride him, but the endless possibilities get him hard as soon as you pull out the ribbon.

X = X-Ray.

Laszlo has Big Dick Energy, so he has to have a big dick. The best example of this sort of energy is in the very first episode after he goes and interviews Wolf, and comes to speak to Teddy, and Teddy is like “you interviewed the suspect? On whose authority??” and laszlo is like “Mine” like OH HIS DICK IS BIG I KNOW IT. He’s got an above average length and girth, but we know our man likes to eat, so some of his weight goes to his dick, so it’s like,,, He’s got a fat cock, sorry, I don’t make the rules

Y = Yearning.

Constantly. Neverending. He’s at work and he’ll catch a glimpse of a pastel drawing that you commissioned from John for Laszlo’s birthday that sits in a frame on his desk, and his heart starts to hurt from missing you. When he comes home, he’ll embrace you and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years, and he’ll want to hear all about your day. You have your doctor so whipped for you, and it’s a different kind of whipped than being pussy whipped. He’s, like, feelings whipped.

Z = ZZZ.

He’s a sleepy little baby after you guys finish. His eyes will be a little heavy and sticky as he’s cleaning up and caring for you (and you definitely coo at him “Oh, Las, you’re so sleepy!”) but when you’re both back in bed, our little man is circling his arm around your waist and nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. He’s so soft and affectionate, and he’s out like a light when you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him.

[comfortbucky]

𝗻𝗼𝘁-𝘀𝗼-𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽

WAIT HI HELLO HEADCANON OF (tfatws!bucky) ROOMMATE!BUCKY SECRETLY CONFESSING HIS FEELINGS TO THE READER WHILE THEY'RE SLEEPING BUT HE DOESN’T KNOW THEY HEARD HIM

gif credit: @buckysbarnes

pairing: roommate!bucky x gender neutral!reader

tags: roommate!bucky, soft!bucky, friends to lovers, fluff

A/N: BESTIES THIS IS SO LONG LMAO MY B

my masterlist!

u landed a dream job in ur dream location: brooklyn, ny

and u were absolutely ecstatic

the only issue was money

the cost of living in nyc is ridiculous

so u needed a roommate

it just so happened that around the same time, that a certain super soldier was looking for a place in his hometown brooklyn, as he was finally starting a “normal life” or whatever dr raynor said

so u found a 2 bedroom apartment and put signs up around the surrounding area in search of a roommate

u keep it super simple, not wanting to reveal too much about urself bc u figure that might attract creeps

ur friends called u old fashioned for that, but u figured posting online on craigslist would result with u, on the news, dead, bc u ended up living with a serial killer

bucky is walking around the familiar, but very different, streets when he comes across ur roommate ad and decides to go for it (he’s already lost steve what else does he have to lose)

so he takes a number and waits until he gets to the hotel room he’s been staying at to call

ur simultaneously nervous and excited about ur first, and only, response to ur roommate ad bc u have no idea what to expect but also desperate to find anyone who can help split the cost

“hello?” ur question is met by a low, husky voice

bucky is thrown off by the softness of ur voice but quickly pulls it together

“hi, i’m bucky. i saw ur flyer for a roommate.”

u are really glad this is being done over the phone because this man’s voice alone is making ur cheeks heat up

u guys plan a time for bucky to come over and take a look at the place before he finalizes his decision

the day arrives and u feel ur stomach doing flips when u hear him knock at ur door

u open the door are immediately drawn to his piercing, ocean-blue eyes

bucky is immediately captivated by ur beauty, he avoids ur gaze for a moment, looks back up when u greet him

“hey.” u give him a small smile and he returns it

“hi.”

u move to the side to let him in

this man literally had no criteria in mind for finding an apartment other than it being close to a park for his walks at ungodly hours of the night

so he accepts

ur friendship starts off… slow

at first, u both mind ur business, living ur lives and barely speaking

everytime bucky came back to the apartment he would just walk into his room, shut the door and stay there

u rarely saw him, and honestly wondered when he ate because he was literally never in the common areas of ur apartment

but u were preoccupied with starting ur job that u didn’t mind at all because he was a good roommate, never made a mess, paid on top, and was fairly quiet

sometimes u would hear him wake up in the middle of the night and leave, closing the door to ur apartment so gently, as to not wake u up

the first time u guys spent time together was when he went on his first date

he didn’t tell u about it beforehand, of course, but u were sat on the couch, binge watching new girl when he walked out of his room and headed straight for the exit, saying nothing

u could smell the cologne he put on (it smelt like pine trees) and had a feeling it was a date bc u had never smelled that cologne before and he had spent like an hour in the bathroom right before he left

it must have been 45 minutes tops before he stormed back into the apartment and went to the kitchen to grab a beer

u immediately knew something was off and that he was upset from his body language and the fact that his date lasted less than an hour

“hey, u okay?” ur question is met with a grunt

u see bucky start to retreat from the kitchen to his room and u decide to say something again

“do u wanna watch tv with me?”

bucky pauses in front of his bedroom door before he turns around, nods, and plops himself on the couch next to u

he makes sure to leave some space between u guys, wanting to be respectful

u both sit in silence for a bit until a joke is made onscreen and u giggle

bucky turns to u and can’t help the soft smile that forms on his lips

he falls asleep that night, dreaming about what he could do or say to hear the sound of ur laugh again and doesn’t have a nightmare

from then on, movie nights became a regular occurrence in the apartment (once a week MINIMUM)

ur regular bonding experience helps u form a stronger friendship with bucky, having thoughtful conversations with each other

he’s thankful that u don’t ever push him into talking about something he’s uncomfortable with or not ready to talk about

u always just offer a smile and shift the conversation

u see him more in the common areas, even just to sit at the dining room table to read a book in silence

and the gap that once existed between u guys gets smaller and smaller every movie night

for a bit, nothing more ever happened other than ur thighs touching each other, side by side

until one night when u had a really long day at work and end up falling asleep during the movie, ur head landing right on bucky’s shoulder

at first he’s startled by it but looks down to see the light from the screen making ur skin glow in the dark

he’s taken by ur beauty, observing every little detail from the shape of ur nose to ur soft lips

and then he immediately snaps out of it bc he realizes how creepy he must be

and now he’s panicking internally bc he doesn’t know what to do

he doesn’t want to wake u up because u had just told him about ur exhausting day at work

but he also doesn’t want to let u fall asleep in this position bc he knows ur neck is going to be sore in the morning

he makes the decision to try and shift ur body so that ur laying on the couch

and as he’s being so careful to move u, scared that he might wake u, u start to stir and he freezes

u remain asleep and end up snuggling up closer to him and he feels his heart skip a beat

with ur repositioning, he’s able to easily pick u up, bridal style, and carries u to ur room and lays u down onto ur bed

as he’s starting to stand up, he stops, realizing ur hand has a firm grip on his sleeve

u mumble, so softly, that if he didn’t have super soldier hearing he probably wouldn’t have understood it

“stay.”

bucky feels his heart racing and can’t help but smile

he gently shifts u over, making room to lie down on his side next to u

he leaves a little bit of space bc he’s nervous he misheard u or something

but then u move ur body closer to his, resting ur head on his chest and draping an arm across his side to pull urself closer and let out a content sigh

ur half-awake at this point, but u don’t let bucky know that, selfishly wanting to do anything to remain in his arms

bucky is frozen in absolute shock

he can’t remember the last time he cuddled with someone

let alone someone he started to develop feelings for

he quickly snaps out of his thoughts to wrap his arm around u, holding u close to him and rests his chin on the top of ur head

he places his other hand on the top of ur head, gently stroking ur head

bucky thinks he must be dreaming

he places a gentle, soft kiss on ur forehead, before whispering his confession

“wish i could call u mine, doll.”

bucky’s heart literally stops as he sees ur eyes flutter open to look up and see him, paralyzed in fear

u smile and kiss him on the cheek

“u should.”

all of bucky’s worries immediately faded away as soon as u smiled at him

he smiles back, feeling the most happy he’s felt in 90 years

he replies by gently tipping ur chin up to him and placing a soft kiss on ur lips

“so happy ur mine.”

[reidsnose]

love letters

overview: spencer has a wonderful idea after finding out that reader had never gone to her senior prom

genre: fluff fluff fluff

a/n: i mixed two ideas that have been sitting in my notes app for this lol but i think its sweet!! i wrote it a little rushed and definitely not bc im not getting a prom this year due to miss rona👀 LMAO but as always please lmk what yall think ab it :)

masterlist

-

the idea had fully occupied his thoughts the second after the words left your mouth.

it was "the buttcrack of dawn" as you had called it, though spirits were high on the late jet ride home. it was a rare but much needed positive end to the case, and everyone was happily chatting with each other. since the case was involving high schoolers, the subject fell on prom. everyone went around sharing their prom stories one by one, recalling awful dresses and questionable dates til the questions turned to spencer.

"what ab you, pretty boy, what was your prom like?" morgan asked, still smiling widely from recalling his own.

you watched spencer shift uncomfortably for a second.

"i uh..i never went to prom." he stammered, a tight lipped smile on his face.

"no! you just dont wanna tell us!" prentiss cried, throwing her hands in the air.

"i graduated high school when i was 12! why would i have gone to prom?" he reasoned.

"you had to have gone when you were older or something! everyone has!" jj countered.

"thats not true, i never went to prom either," you defended, subconsciously inching closer to spencer.

before anyone could even ask you to explain why, spencer got the idea. he mentally left the conversation after you gave your answer. he spent the whole rest of the ride home and the next couple of weeks brain storming and planning.

and casually after work one day, as he was walking you to your car, he asked you if you wanted to hang out with him that weekend; at his house.

you and Spencer had hung out before, but mostly at your house or at coffee shops; he didn't invite people over very often.

of course you agreed but you grew confused when he told you to dress fancy.

you raced home afterwards to raid your closet, looking for any fancy dresses you may have stuffed in there.

spencer spent the whole day preparing his apartment. he put up streamers and balloons. he made a playlist of all your favorite songs. and then he rushed to get his clothes from the cleaners.

and when you knocked at his door the breath that left your lungs struggled to come back after he opened the door.

he stood in a gorgeous suit, different than he had ever worn to work. he rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to the living room, revealing the adorable (albeit poorly made but its the thought that counts) decorations.

"um.. welcome to prom," he said, turning back to you, revealing a blushy smile.

he tried not to stare too much at you, but it was difficult. your eyes sparkled as you stepped inside and looked around. and the dress you were wearing fit you so gorgeously he truly couldnt take his eyes off of you.

"spencer, i..." you trailed off, enchanted by what he had done.

"sorry if it looks bad. or if you think its weird that i did this. i just thought cause neither of us went to prom maybe you wanted to have a little one with me? yeah now that i say it out loud maybe you hate it im sorr-" he rambled behind you.

you turned quickly to him as he got lost in his words, eyes glued to the floor. cutting him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him as tight as you could. you could feel the tension leave his body as he melted into the embrace, returning it gladly. he doesn't like to be touched by anyone really, except for you.

"i love it. thank you," you whispered, giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

he has a spread of snacks lying out on the coffee table which he has mooved to the corner of the room to make space for a makeshift dancefloor.

he turns on the music and you two start talking and dancing and laughing. two fools with four left feet completely and obliviously in love. well, oblivious the the other anyway.

a slower song came on, an old one that you had wanted to slow dance to ever since you were a little girl. and somehow naturally you two came together, his hand dropped to your waist, the other delicately cradling your own. your other hand found its way up to his shoulder, feeling as though a magnet was pulling you two closer. and closer.

he looked absolutely stunning. the soft lights he had strung around the apartment sparkled like stars in his eyes; its was...dizzying, in the most incredible way.

unbeknownst to you, as you stared at the stars in his eyes he was looking at his whole world that he had been somehow lucky enough to hold in his arms.

he held his arm out, allowing you to spin and when he pulled you back both of your arms ended up wrapped around his neck, and his around your waist. you were less dancing now and more...hugging. with your head pressed to his chest, he hoped with all his might that you wouldn't be able to hear his hammering heart. you most definitely could, but it was calming to know he was as nervous as you were. you smiled, listening more to his heart than the music he had played for you.

you were both sure that you could burst from pure bliss. the song ended a little too quickly for either of your liking and reluctantly you let go of each other. and suddenly Spencer was hit with the realization that he forgot something.

"oh my gosh," his eyes widened as he looked around the room.

"what?" you asked, mirroring him and looking as well.

"i can't remember where i left your corsage! i was gonna give it to you at the door but i forgot!" he exclaimed, running around the room checking shelves.

you smiled to yourself. he got you a corsage!

"ill help you look" you decided.

"please do," he chuckled.

"i thought you had an eidetic memory, shouldn't you know where you left it?" you joked, shooting him a smug smile.

"y/n, my brain was all jumbled to day and it wasn't just from being around you," he realized what he had said and quickly turned back to the shelf he was looking at, "could you check in my room please?"

his heart was racing at his own stupidity; how could he just say that so nonchalantly? he had been planning to tell you that he liked you for the longest time he cant afford slipping up and having it be anything less than perfect.

you slipped into his room, your cheeks warm from the idea that you make his big brain all jumbled. he probably didn't mean it like that, you were just looking too much into it.

you sighed as you crouched to look under his bed for it. you found a small wooden box that you slid out from underneath. it had your name on it.

is it normal to keep a corsage in a wooden box? you wouldn't know, you never went to prom.

you shrugged your shoulders, "i found it spence!"

with out thinking you opened the box, except instead of a band of flowers you were greeted with letters, all addressed to you. there were annotations written in the margins with purple ink. you furrowed your eyebrows as you scanned the various letters.

dear y/n,

today you complimented my glasses and my heart skipped a beat. thats dumb spencer dont start like that

dear y/n,

im in love with you. too forward

dear y/n,

you make life worth living. shes gonna think youre a creep

you felt a rush of euphoria fill your chest. did he really feel these things for you? your thoughts swirled in the most wonderful way. a wide smile broke across your face, butterflies running rampage through your stomach as you reread his words. his words addressed to you.

"oh thank God i really thought i lost-oh. oh no." spencer started as he walked through the door of his room immediately walking back out. you followed, blinking your watery eyes at him. "i can explain.

"i think youve explained enough, theres like 20 letters in here!" you chuckled, flipping through them.

"i didnt know how to tell you and i dont want to ruin what we already have and i-"

"it wasnt too forward." you stated, grabbing one of the letters.

"what?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"in this one," you held up the letter, "you wrote dear y/n, im in love with you. and then you crossed it out and wrote that it was too forward but i dont think it was."

"youre not mad?"

"mad? spencer ive been trying to admit the fact that im in love with you since i realized it myself, why would i be mad?"

"youre..you feel the same way?" he looked back up at you, a hesitant smile pulling on the corners of his lips.

"more so," you beamed, stepping closer.

he wrapped his arms around you, "thats good or else the rest of this prom would have sucked."

you chuckled, pulling him impossibly closer to you as another perfect song played.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc @sydnee-kom-spacekru @sydneekomspacekru

[ohbuckie]

b!bucky drabble about the day or so after the breakup??? from his perspective just dealing with the aftermath if that makes sense bc i love to make men suffer <3

OKAYY

bassist!bucky x fem!reader

wc: 988

warnings: suicide mention, angst, drug mention

He’s lost today. His nose is stuffed, his eyes are puffy, his head is pounding.

Steve wakes him up. “Advil?” He holds a couple in his outstretched right hand, and a bottle of water in his left.

Bucky takes them from him, nodding. He swallows the pills dry, but sips from the water bottle anyway. Gulps, rather.

“How are you feeling?” His friend asks.

“Like somebody is sitting on my chest and holding a pillow against my face.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“Feel like sight-seeing today?”

Amsterdam is a beautiful city. They have two days before their next show to explore. Bucky was excited to hold your hand and pull you around the cobblestone roads into cafés and gift shops.

“No. Feel like fucking killing myself today.”

“Not funny.”

“Wasn’t kidding.”

“Call your mom.” Steve suggests. Bucky never lets him in until after his mom has already broken down his first wall.

“I don’t want to talk to her.”

“You need to.”

“What’s she gonna say? That I’m stupid? I already know that.”

“You need to.” He repeats again.

Bucky glares at him. “Fine. Get out. I’ll call her.”

“You don’t get to snort a line beforehand.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you. Where is it? In your bag?”

“No, in a balloon up my ass.” He sits up for the first time today and closes his eyes while his head rushes.

“You’re a dick. Call your mom.”

“I will.” He says, sincerely this time.

Steve finally leaves him alone, closing the door behind himself to give Bucky the privacy that he needs.

It’s a little past noon in Holland, which means six o’clock in the morning in New York. His mom will be awake, so he swallows his pride and calls her.

“Hello, James.” He can hear her smiling.

“Hi.” He can’t even fake enthusiasm. He can already feel his throat tightening like he’s about to cry.

“What’s wrong?”

She can always tell.

“She left me.” His voice cracks.

“What?”

“She left me. Y/N. She flew back home. She’s moving out. She dumped me.” He takes a shaky breath and lets his eyes well up with tears that silently fall down his cheeks. He wishes you were here to rub his back and kiss his head.

“Why?”

He knows that what she really wants to ask is, “What did you do?”

“Because I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole, Bucky-”

“I am. It was my fault. I just don’t know what to do now. I can’t stay here. I can’t go on stage. I need to come home, mama.”

“No, James, you can’t come home. It’s only a couple more weeks and you’ll be back. If you come home you’ll shut everyone out. You can’t do that. You need to stay, sweetie.”

“I can’t do it.”

He’s really crying now, sniffling and wiping his eyes, hoping the rest of the band can’t hear how pathetic he sounds.

“You can. You need to. You’ve done much harder things.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“This feels so big right now, Bucky, but you just need time.”

“I don’t want time, I want my girlfriend back.”

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry this is happening. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just…I need to go. Eat some breakfast or something. I just have to go.”

“Be safe. If you need help, get help. Your friends would do anything for you.”

“I know.”

He knows that she’s worried he’ll hurt himself, but he doesn’t promise that he won’t.

“I love you. I don’t know what I would do without you. Call me if you need anything. Doesn’t matter what time it is, okay?”

“Okay. I love you too, mom. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

He can’t stand. Well, physically, he can, but mentally, he doesn’t have the willpower. He lays back down and pulls his blanket above his shoulders, turning on his side so that his back faces the curtain that separates him from the hallway.

He thinks of just two nights ago, when you slept beside him in this bed, wearing his hoodie and snoring lightly against his chest.

Somebody opens the door to the cabin in which the bunks are. “I made breakfast, if you want some. Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast.” It’s Sam.

“No, thanks.”

“You should put something in your stomach.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I’ll save you some.”

“Thank you.”

The door doesn’t close, though. Instead, somebody pulls his curtain to the side, revealing his state of agony to the world. Well, to the center aisle, at least.

“Scoot over.” Natasha insists.

“Nat-”

“Now.”

He sighs and makes room for her, letting her crawl under his blanket, where he lays in just his boxers. He can’t be fucked to put on clothes today. It’s a miracle that he’s speaking to anyone at all.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“Can I hug you?”

He nods, and she wraps her arms around him, pulling his head against her chest. He just closes his eyes, sniffling and trying his hardest not to cry, like he’d planned on doing when he laid back down.

“You can cry, Bucky. It’s okay.” She says softly, gently holding the back of his head and resting her chin on top of it.

“I don’t know what to do.” He sobs.

“I know. Don’t even think about it, okay? Just feel sorry for yourself today. It’s okay to do that. This fucking sucks.”

He sniffles. “I just want her to come back. I wish I could take back the last, like, two months and do them over again. I feel like such a prick.”

She sighs. “I know you do. But you want her to be happy, right? She needs to go find somebody that makes her really happy.”

He takes a breath in an effort to collect himself. “I just wish she was happy with me.”

[yoonpobs]

Omg requests are open AAAHHH

may i request an oblivious oc and tsundere yoongi who likes holding oc's hands and idk like maybe oc thinks it's bc his hands are cold and his friends make fun of him and oc only realizes yoongi likes her when they spill his secret

as a yoongi stan, this is my guilty pleasure and this absolutely KILLED ME ily for asking this 🤣and double update today???? who am I????? 

hope you enjoy this v fluffy and v yoongi piece <3

pairing: tsundere!yoongi x oblivious&clumsy!oc

genre: FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF

warnings: lots of squealing into ur pillow moments. taehyung, jimin & jin being the saviours tbh

words: 3, 136

Yoongi is staring at you like you spilt milk over his favourite pair of sneakers and you have no idea what to make of it.

“Uh …” You drag, blinking up at him with wide eyes when all he does is level you with a blank stare.

You can hear the distinct chatter of your friends in the background, likely already having their go skating around the rink. They always left you and Yoongi alone, for whatever reason it may be. But you weren’t complaining, you wanted to give him your gift in private!

But when Yoongi only stares at the mass of knit in your palms as you hold it out to him, you can only feel your ears flush an embarrassing shade of red at the subtle gesture of rejection. 

Yoongi was by no means a malicious person, but he was very clear-cut. He was straightforward and it was definitely one of his qualities that you admired the most about him. His ability to mitigate any situation, or look at things objectively was something that you struggled with for the most part of your life. Which is why some people would mistake him for cold or uncaring, but you knew better. 

“Do you … do you not like it?” You ask meekly, eyes darting everywhere but his as they continue to stare you down.

Yoongi doesn’t say a word. Instead, he grabs your hands with his larger palm where your gift lays and observes it, scrutinises it as if he’s there to pick apart any stray strand of yarn. His hand, despite his exterior, is soft and gentle when he holds you; and your brain short-circuits for a good five seconds when he traces a thumb over your knuckles.

“It’s cute.” He shrugs.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Your eyes dart down to your hands and somehow you find them in a familiar position. His fingers intertwined with yours and his palm engulfing yours entirely.

“T-Then why don’t you—” You try to pull away, making an effort to dangle your hand-woven mittens in front of him in hopes of attracting his appeal towards it.

But he doesn’t even bat an eye, just sighs and squeezes your hand tighter.

“I’m holding your hand.” He says pointedly, shooting you a serious stare.

You stutter for a response, and despite the chill in the air you hope he can allude to the redness of your cheeks a result of the wind that blows past you and not the flustered state you find yourself in when he tugs your body closer to his.

You suppose you found a bad spot to give him the mittens because you nearly stumble into his chest at how wobbly you are on skates. You planned his gift for weeks, fully aware that your group of friends was intending on coming to ice-skate. 

“I’m really bad at ice-skating. I’ll just slow you down.” You huff with a frown, still attempting to tug your hand away.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I literally don’t care.”

You gape at his bluntness and scowl when he only offers you a lazy smirk. His hand is still tightly wrapped around your own, and you sigh, knowing that it was hopeless to fight against Yoongi when he was far stronger than you were.

“I can skate with Tae or something, he and I are pretty much—“

“No.” Yoongi blinks.

You splutter, “E-Excuse—?”

He snatches the mittens from your other hand and shoves them into his pocket. The action is so quick that you can barely register the way Yoongi is tugging your forehead as you flounder on your feet, already feeling unstable at the way the ice is set on making you fall.

But Yoongi is there like he always is, and he rests a gentle palm on your waist and shoots you a rare and soft smile that makes your heart weak.

“I’ll teach you.” He says it like it’s obvious, “Just hold my hand.”

“Yoongi, I really don’t think—” You weakly protest when he pulls you closer until you’re nestled comfortably by his side, his face set forward as he blatantly ignores you.

“Stop being so stubborn and hold on tight.” He scolds, squeezing your hand when he feels your fingers loosen its grip.

You pout, your other hand patting your cheek in hopes of easing the burning of your cheeks.

.

Lest to say, you are horrid at ice-skating and you wished you stayed home.

Your two left feet was probably the least interesting thing about you, yet it was the one thing that left a lasting impression on the people you’ve met. Whether it be because you tripped up a flight of stairs as you rushed to your next lecture, or if you accidentally torpedoed into a bush while you were attempting to penny

“How are you even real?” He huffs, fingers intertwined tightly with your own. You’re grateful he has a lethal grip on you because you don’t think you’re ready to be doused in ice, even if it was at your own accord.

“I’m sorry!” You whine, hand still clasped with his.

Yoongi doesn’t let go, even if you’re stable on your feet. He never does. He only holds your hand tighter, grumbling something about your clumsiness as he uses his spare hand to adjust the strap of his bag over his shoulders. When he shoots you a look, you feel very much like a scolded child as you pout up at his narrowed eyes.

“What would you do if I wasn’t holding your hand, huh?” He laments, eyes rolling while he tugs you towards the direction of your friends who have somehow all gathered at the corner of the rink.

You stare at your feet, tittering to keep up with his long strides as he keeps the hold on your hand firm. 

“Look, I don’t ask to be swept away—!” You retort petulantly, but Yoongi completely ignores you as he squeezes your hand in response, right as he stops in front of your friends.

You’re still sulking when Yoongi doesn’t let go, shooting you a look that has you pursing your lips shut. 

“Lovely for the two of you to join us,” Jimin snorts.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you miss the lethal glare he shoots at your mutual friend.

“I’m sorry that my skating skills can’t keep up with you,” You huff.

You see Jin’s eyes dart down to your intertwined hands, before looking up; a knowing smirk on his face that you can’t decipher.

“Seems like Yoongi has it all settled.” He snickers, nudging Jimin by the side.

You can feel Yoongi roll his eyes next to you, even if you pout at Jin’s words.

“At this rate, I think you’re basically joined by the hands,” Jimin says smugly.

You blink.

“She’ll fall,” Yoongi says blankly.

“Look, I said I’d skate with Tae but he’s so adamant!” You cry.

Yoongi shoots you a dry glare, before briefly releasing your hand. You splutter for a second, surprised at the sudden coldness that engulfs your grip and the emptiness that you feel when he no longer has his fingers intertwined with your own.

“What—?” You furrow your brows but Yoongi pats you on the hand to ease your confusion.

“I’m getting you hot chocolate. Your hands are freezing.” He murmurs, and to prove his point; he grabs your fingers and rubs soothing circles on your knuckles to provide you with any warmth he could.

If your hands weren’t warm, then your cheeks definitely were. You couldn’t hold eye contact with Yoongi because he was staring at you so intently that you may have been the one to melt into a puddle on the ice.

“But the mittens—!” You call, but he’s already skating away to the confectionary stand where they sell hot chocolate.

You sigh, dejected as you frown. Did he really hate the mittens that much?

“You are so stupid.” Jin gawks at you with a shake of his head.

You turn your head so fast that you nearly fall over, but Jimin’s grip on your wrist prevents you from doing so.

“And clumsy, God, no wonder hyung won’t let you go.” He scolds.

You frown, “Hey! What the hell is up with the slander?” You whine.

Taehyung stumbles into the conversation, quite literally almost smashing his body against the divider but he manages to balance himself by gripping the hell out of Jin’s shoulders.

“You deserve it,” He sticks his tongue out as you gape at him.

“What?! Why?” You hiss, “You literally just entered the conversation!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “And I’ve had to see you and hyung doddle around each other for ages so spare me the fucking brain cells because clearly, you need it more than I do.”

“What—?” You splutter.

“You are literally the densest person on this planet.” Jin blinks.

“What are you guys even talking about?” You cry.

Jimin shoots you a dry look, willing the God’s above to give you a semblance of rationality or logic to put two and two together.

“The hand-holding? The constant going out of his way to do things for you? The fact that you’re the only person he’ll ever smile at even if you do the dumbest shit ever?” Taehyung exasperates.

You blink.

“It’s winter and his fingers get really cold—!”

Jin groans, tugging at his hair in frustration.

“No, you idiot! Yoongi literally doesn’t get cold. He’s the human equivalent of a furnace! He literally doesn’t give a shit if he freezes to death. The only reason why he ever holds your hand is that he wants to!” He yells, grabbing you by the shoulder as he shakes your body while you stare up at him with wide eyes.

Does that mean—?

“He hates the mittens?” You cry, face crumbling.

You see Taehyung, Jimin and Jin’s face fall as they all share a look of disbelief.

“I’m sorry but I have no way to defend you.” Jimin blinks.

“I just wanted to do something nice for him! He’s always taking care of me and I thought knitting him a pair of mittens would help with the cold …” You mumble, eyes darting down to your feet as your voice trails off into a whisper.

“Okay, I know I promised hyung I wouldn’t say anything until she figured it out herself but I can’t take it anymore.” Taehyung seethes to the other boys.

Your eyes dart up, furrowing in confusion as Jimin and Jin’s eyes widen at Taehyung’s statement.

“Figured what—?”

“Dude, Yoongi is going to kill you,” Jin warns.

Taehyung scoffs, “Like I give a shit. I’m losing brain cells listening to her speak so this is an act of self-preservation. He’s going to thank me and so are you.”

“What are you—?” You huff.

“Yoongi likes you!” He exasperates, throwing his hands into his air.

The silence is overwhelming, as the four of you simply blink at each other. Your brain is processing his words, but it doesn’t really make sense. You’re confused as you attempt to deduce the meaning behind it until you come to a conclusion—

You look over at Jimin, “Are the two of you—?”

Jimin wants to scream.

“No, oh my God! Yoongi likes you! You!” He shakes you so hard that your head spins, “He likes you so much it’s disgusting and cute so you better do something about it and not accustom us to this torture anymore, okay?!”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder. You blink up, and you see Yoongi offering you a cup of hot chocolate, eyeing the rest of the boys weirdly as they stand there with tightened expressions.

“Here you go,” He says softly, helping you blow onto the steaming cup before gently placing it into your hand.

It warms you up immediately, and you only then managed to piece together what Taehyung and Jimin just told you. The realisation dawns upon you as a scandalised expression makes its way onto your face. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, observing the odd behaviour of the four of you as the three boys ignore his pointed gaze.

“L-Let’s go take a seat,” You stutter, pushing on his chest with your free hand as you attempt to skate away from the wandering eyes. The pressure was too much.

“Hey, hold on, you’ll fall.” He gently chides, doing what comes as second nature to him as he grabs your other hand, giving you a squeeze of reassurance.

As the two of you skate away, you miss the sighs that leave the three boys’ lips.

“So, is there a reason why you tried to skate away like you were an Olympian?” Yoongi asks when the two of you managed to settle down in a small bench outside of the rink, tucked a decent distance away.

You look down at your palms, squeezing around the hot chocolate as you pay attention to the steam that escapes the surface.

The words from Jimin was essentially still haunting you, and you wondered if this was some sick joke of his to get back at you for mixing up his toothpaste with his shampoo a few months back. You sulk because this was a really mean joke and your feelings were about to get really hurt if he was lying to you.

“Hey,” Yoongi murmurs, hand reaching out to tilt your chin up to look at him. His stare is so intense that you find yourself cowering away, cheeks red and embarrassed. “Look at me.”

You can’t.

“I-I … there’s nothing wrong!” You squeak, eyes travelling and landing on different people that wasn’t Yoongi. Anyone that wouldn’t cause your insides to melt with just his gaze alone.

Yoongi purses his lips in disapproval, sighing before he sets his hot chocolate by the table next to the bench and turns to face you. You knew that you had no place to run, especially when Yoongi essentially traps you with his eyes, observing your every move.

“You’re shaking.” He points out.

And only then do you realise that you were shaking, and your hands were basically vibrating with the hot chocolate. You cursed at yourself, and the cold.

“I-I’m cold.” You chatter.

Yoongi frowns, reaching out his hand to immediately grab your own to warm them up. But when you spot his hands, you squeak, immediately retracting them as if he was about to bite them off. 

You realise how it looks, and you notice the slight drop in Yoongi’s expression when you reacted the way you did.

“Are you—?” He begins to ask, slow and tentative.

“Not my hands!” You blurt out.

Yoongi pauses for a second before he relaxes his posture and raises a brow at you in questioning.

“Okay …?” He drags, “Where are you cold? Do you need my jacket?” He asks.

You curse at yourself because you didn’t know how to get yourself out of this situation. Especially now that Yoongi was patiently waiting for your response. Your thighs were essentially brushed up against each other, and his body was leaned over ever so slightly that you catch every strand of eyelashes on his eyes.

You were so weak.

“N-No, I … you can keep your jacket.” You stutter, shaking your head as you pat his puffer down when he goes to shrug it off.

Yoongi’s frown deepens, “Well, can you tell me where so I can help—?”

“My lips!” You declare, voice high pitched and loud enough that it attracts a few stares from bystanders.

Yoongi just stares at you, and you’re mortified when you realise what you said, but you can’t seem to stop now that you’ve already dug a hole for yourself.

“My … lips … they’re ... cold,” You clear your throat, blinking up at him with a false sense of determination in hopes of shielding the way your face is undoubtedly on fire right now.

“Your lips … are cold?” He articulates each world tentatively as he observes your face for any reaction.

You nod.

“Yeah. Cold.” You say.

Oh my God, shut up!

Before you can even run away, and it’s as if Yoongi expects you to flee, he pins your hands down with his own and draws closer to your face so quickly that you can barely even catch his next move.

And kisses you.

Smack on the lips.

He pulls away too fast for your liking, and you’re gaping at him like a fish out of the water when you realise what he did.

“You—” You croak, pointing a finger at him.

But Yoongi leans in once more, pressing a firmer kiss to your lips, one that sends your brain into overdrive as you feel yourself melt into his hold. If you were cold, you definitely weren’t anymore. Not when Yoongi is pressed against you like a warm lover by the fireplace.

He pulls away first, again, and you notice the tip of his ears turning red before he offers you that charming smile of his.

“Took you long enough,” He sighs, reaching out to cradle your jaw in his palm. And only then do you realise that Jimin was right, his hand is warm.

“W-What?”

He rolls his eyes fondly, ignoring the way you stare up at him with confused and wide eyes; likely still absorbing what just happened.

“Just hold my hand,” He tuts, reaching in between the both of you to intertwine your fingers together once more as he rests your combined hands on his lap.

“Does this mean …?” You ask shyly, head ducking away from his eyes.

He smiles at you, and you notice that it’s the same look he’s always had whenever he speaks to you.

He brings the back of your hand to his lips and presses a gentle peck to it, causing heat to rise to your cheeks all over again.

“You warm now, cutie?” He murmurs.

You melt, “Oh my God! Don’t—just—I’m literally going to die!” You whine, shoving your face into his puffer as you scream at his suaveness.

He chuckles, low and deep as he unlocks your hands to wrap an arm around your body, tugging you closer until you’re practically glued to his hip like a koala.

“Don’t die on me now,” He sighs, “Just got you to myself.”

“I hate you so much.” Your complaint is muffled into his puffer, but you can feel his grin on the top of your forehead when he presses a warm kiss to it.

“That’s disappointing. I like you very much,” He returns.

You blush, but you don’t push him away when he laughs into your hair, the sound making you melt further into his arms.

You liked him, too.

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy. 

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

~

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable. 

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation. 

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her. 

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N. 

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone. 

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys. 

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was. 

“What is it?” 

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs. 

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??” 

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her. 

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on. 

“Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

~

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match. 

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms. 

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made. 

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her. 

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled. 

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.” 

“Why?” 

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.” 

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. 

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

[01solarsmiles]

synopsis: you’ve been at jaehyun’s “secret” flat for a while now. you’re not quite sure how long, he says time passes differently here. not that you mind. you’re healing and there’s nothing you have wrong with that. having been away form everything that was bad for you, you’re coming to realise that things really were better with jaehyun. and no matter how many times he tries to tell you, he knows you have to come to that conclusion yourself.

tl;dr: you heal under jaehyun’s caring gaze.

genre: fantasy!au, kind of domestic!au, magic!jaehyun, fluff, smut, fem!reader

warnings: smut in the forms of kissing, titplay, basically motorboats oc, brief nipple play, heavy petting/fondling, grinding (?), oral (male recieving), jaehyun can’t hold his load oops, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, brief cumplay lmao jaehyun is the teeniest bit kinky

other: jaehyun is my soft boi, wanna smooch and cuddle in his pastel coloured sweats, i’m british so he lives in a flat, soft smut… almost r*mantic,,, jaehyun is a boob man; do what you will with that B), jaehyun uses pet names bc i think it would be sickly sweet leaving his lips, time is relevant so i can do what i want with this thanks xox

wordcount: 8.5k

a/n: this is a continuation from the last chapter. i split it bc i needed inspo lmao so once again, not happy with how it ended previously so i had to write more. admittedly, it was origianlly one long piece but i realised i wanted to add more depth to when they’re living together (basically) so i split it therefore enabling me to write what i wanted about them being cute and stuff. yeah.

You had been given a wheelchair by the hospital but had refused to use it, wanting to prove that you were okay, to yourself and Jaehyun. He had convinced you to stay in it as you left the hospital to please the staff on your way out but you had point-blank refused when you made it to the small block of flats he said he lived in. After walking two steps from the car you let out a whimper and gave in to his incessant pleas to get you to sit in the wheelchair.

Oddly, there had been no one in the foyer and you hadn’t bumped into anyone in the hallway in front of the lift. He had helped you when you made it into the flat, moving you over to the sofa where you melted into the plush cushions of the seat.

On the way here, the two of you had already argued about where you were going to stay, him insisting on not leaving you alone and you insisting that you’d be okay at a friends place. In the end, he promised to contact your friends and family to tell them you were spending a little time away (you wouldn’t let him tell them you had been to the hospital). After all, he had saved you when you needed it most.

Your cracked lips remained tightly sealed as he folded the wheelchair away and tucked it behind a cupboard where it wasn’t in your direct line of sight.

You decide to look around, wanting to take up some time and to avoid looking him directly in the eye.

The flat was… cosy. It looked lived in, all the trinkets and small collages stuck up on the walls drawing your attention away from the shelves stacked with potted plants. Everything about the room seemed to tie together with another aspect of the flat. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had a place like this.

He notices your inquisitive look, “It’s supposed to be a secret. Though almost everyone important knows this is where they’ll find me if I disappear without an explanation.” Jaehyun moves towards the small kitchenette, fetching a glass of water befoer placing it on a coaster on the glass coffee table by your legs.

You wait for a second, acknolwedging the glass of iced water, then look up, meeting his hesitant gaze, “Everything’s green.”

It wasn’t a deep green either, more like a soft earthy green. Maybe a sage colour, but you were mostly going off of the presence of the plants and the colour of the sofa. Some of the counters in his one-person kitchen were a soft green, accented with wood countertops and a pastel fridge. It was soothing on your eyes, you had to admit.

He nods, unsure what you’re getting at, “Yeah…?”

“The first and second time I met you, you exclusively wore red. And it was glittery,” you point out, one wordlessly eyebrow raised.

He tilts his head, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he stuffs his hands in his jogging bottom pockets, rattling his keys in his pockets, “Just because I wear red doesn’t mean my whole life revolves around that primary colour.”

You roll your eyes and lean back into the sofa cushion, tenderly crossing your arms, “Well, no. I guess not,” you let your headrest on a pillow he slips behind your neck discreetly, “I suppose… I just assumed that you did,” you shrug your shoulders, “wasn’t something I gave much thought to.”

Jaehyun kicks off his trainers and throws his keys into a bowl on the kitchen counter. You could probably stick your arm over the back of the sofa and touch the pillar that separated the two areas if you tried hard enough adn weren’t brusied all over. He’s got a small smile on his face that brings his dimples out as he makes his way over to sit on the sofa with you, letting himself fall haphazardly onto the cushions. “So you thought about me, even a little.”

Ignoring his comment, you take in his flat to its fullest. You weren’t wrong, this man lived in a green, cottagecore aesthetic in his off-time. Admittedly you were a big fan of the wall of shelves stacked with different plants, mostly succulents and cactus -- the odd spine of a book eeking through -- and you even enjoyed the small desk that was home to a few depictions of watercolour flowers. Your eyes fall on the black figure, slinking under the legs of the glass coffee table pitched in front of you, making you flinch as you suppressed your reflex to jump; it was only a cat.

A cat man. Of course, he was.

Jaehyun’s eyes follow yours, “That’s Prim. She likes to keep to herself. Occasionally she curls up with me.”

“You made it sound like you rarely come here.”

“Mhm.”

“You have a cat.”

“I have a cat,” he affirms.

Prim disappears around the pillar into the kitchen. Jaehyun must’ve put down some food for her because you can hear her softly eating followed briefly by the sound of her lapping at a bowl of water.

“And plants.”

“Those too.” He’s not sure where you’re going with this, neither were you, but he was humouring it, seeing it through to the end if he got ot be in your presence longer.

Your eyes go back to wandering around the room, watching how the sun dips in between the curtains and cascades through the room. You had sat in the seat closest to the entrance, meaning Jaehyun’s back was to the window as he faced you while you were talking. He was still dressed in the outfit you assumed he slept in at the hospital. You were dressed in the same clothes you had gone in with, having had to change out of the gown they had provided when you left.

He looked so effortlessly pretty. It made you want to cry.

You suck in a breath and say, “I’m a little tired. Can I sleep… anywhere?”

He nods and jumpts to his feet before helping you to yours. Slowly, you make your way down the hall, almost all of your weight is beared on Jaehyun. He’s practically carrying you but neither of you mention it. It was only a small flat, something you couldn’t wrap your head around when he could probably have anything he liked, and so it only had one bedroom.

Initially, you had put up a fight but he simply said he wasn’t tired and there was a box room he could get a bed into if the sofa wasn’t comfortable enough (it was but you weren’t okay with the fact that he was giving up his bed). You lay on your side, a body pillow supporting your small frame. You were so tense, worried about Soobin and Dan-ah and Mina and your Mum and Dad and Hyejin as she was probably the only friend of yours who regularly checked in. There was so much running through your mind and you almost don’t notice Jaehyun’s soft palm gripping yours, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. Unbeknownst to you, he had seen the anxious look on your face and had guessed that you were psychoanalysing everything in your head, cogs turning. He wanted to subtly draw you out from your thoughts... so he let a little of his power surge through his fingertips and into your palm, hoping it was enough to make you woozy.

Without much thought to it, you rested your head on his pillow and fell asleep.

Jaehyun stays, for a minute or two, holding your hand until your grip weakens, your breathing becomes heavier and your chest goes into a steady rise and fall. He watches, as you lay, unbothered by the world outside. You looked at peace. At home.

Was this the first time you had been able to wind down like this?

He sighs, wriggling his hand from under yours and gets up to leave before he pulls a brown monochrome blanket over your frame. A slight frown etches itself on your forehead as your fingers twitch, looking for the hand Jaehyun had slipped away, before you subconsciously grip the blanket and curl into it instead, the frown erasing itself from your face, leaving you looking at peace once again.

You wake up to the sun going down outside, a blanket covering your body and pillows squished underneath to support your body.

You’re tender. That’s safe to say.

The room was airy; Jaehyun had left the window on the latch and the door cracked open so as to not make it stuffy. Glancing around, you notice the simplicity of it. Bed, side table, lamp and wardrobe. It differed massively from the rest of his flat. Maybe he hadn’t gotten around to decorating substantially in here.

You get up, perching yourself on the edge of the bed before making your way out of the room. Shuffling along, you cling to the wall as you know full well you shouldn’t be venturing around by yourself and make your way to the living room, “Jaehyun?” you call. The calling stops when you spot Jaehyun with an open book lying in his lap while he snores lightly, passed out on the sofa. The corners of your mouth twitch, curling into a smile at the sight of him so peaceful.

You hold out your arm, inspecting the bandage on it. You sigh, “I need a shower.”

You turn back, headed towards what you assumed was the bathroom. The door creaks open; thankfully, you were correct. There are fresh towels hanging on the rack and a laundry basket sits tucked into the corner. Stripping from your clothes gingerly, you turn on the shower. While it warms up you unwrap your bandages and softly poke the back of your head. You’re probably not supposed to submerge it yet so you work with what you can. The shower itself was a standalone that had frosted glass wrapped around it, hiding what was on the inside if anyone were to look in.

The whole ordeal was a show in itself, you carefully moving things about, trying not to knock anything all while trying to do your best with what you’ve got. It wasn’t the best situation in the world but it was the best out of the hand you were dealt. Having not been back to your flat to get anything, you didn’t have any of your usual hair products so you used the products that were already there and a lemon body wash that had been sitting patiently.

Eventually, you finish up with half-washed hair and a mostly clean body. Your fingers had pruned long ago and you took that as a sign to get out of the shower to stop using all the hot water.

You stepped out, and grabbed the towel off of the rack, wrapping yourself in them. They were so soft against your skin. Holding it tightly against your skin you move to stand in the middle of the bathroom. It wasn’t big but it had an oval mirror hanging above the sink. Staring at your reflection for a little, you internally pick apart everything you don’t like.

Staring with the obvious bruises. “I’ll heal,” you tell your reflection, “I won’t degrade myself like that again.” Your fingers brush against your towel-covered ribs, making you flinch. “He won’t do this to me again; I won’t let him,” you pause before whispering, “I’m not going back to him.”

By now, your eyes are watering a little so you sniffle and wipe the forming tears away before they’re given the chance to fall. You deserve better. You know this. “I deserve better. I am worth better.”

In the middle of this, Prim slinks through the crack of the door, making you jump a little. With your hand on your heart, you take deep breaths, watching as she jumps onto the closed toilet seat and sits down on a pile of clothes. A pile of clothes you don’t remember putting there. Your eyes widen at the thought of Jaehyun seeing you naked but then you whip your head to the shower walls, reminding yourself that they’re frosted and he would’ve only been able to see an outline at the most.

Prim purrs, drawing your attention back to her.

She blinks at you. She’s so calm. You reach the backside of your hand out so she can sniff it. After a quick sniff, she turns her head and rubs it into the palm of your hand. You gratefully accept her and let her continue to rub herself on you as you alternate between scratching the underside of her chin and the back of her head. She purrs in content and you let out a quiet giggle.

Jaehyun had been awake for the past ten minutes or so. He’d dug through his drawers, pulling out an old pair of jogging bottoms that he’d bulked out of but never gotten around to throwing out, a pair of clean underwear and a jumper that was currently his size but probably oversized on you. He’d slipped them onto the toilet seat (thank god it was so close to the door) without peeping past the sink and must’ve forgotten to pull the door up all the way on his way out.

He listens to Prim purring and you giggling softly from the safety of his sofa in the living room, a smile making its way onto his face. He had flicked on the table lamp on the end table by the sofa, continuing to read his book – A natural history of Dragons. Not as accurate as he remembers but a little light reading never did anyone any harm.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, you looked fresh. Swamped in his jumper and bare feet padding across the panelled flooring. He looks up from his book, noticing you gradually making your way over to him, he jumps up, trying to help you. You looked cute with your sweater paw leaned up against the wall.

He tucks a hand under your armpit for leverage, you turn, a little surprised and open your mouth to say something but can’t bring yourself to when you realise how close your faces are. Jaehyun either doesn’t notice or pretends to not know, making you feel more embarrassed than you thought possible. His musk engulfs you, overriding your senses and you hesitate in your step.

“Oh,” you say, face hot to which you can only pray he doesn’t sense how he caught you off-guard, “you don’t have to–”

“It’s okay,” he whispers softly, hands pulling you into him so he can use his body strength to help too. You feel goosebumps from his caring touch and you wonder about the last time someone treated you like this.

Since when did he become so domestic?

You brush it off and he helps lower you down to the sofa and Prim follows suit, helping herself to your lap as she curls into a ball, letting you run your fingers down her back in a soothing motion.

You could feel the heat rising up your neck at how close the two of you had been, your mind running to months before when you had been close to him. Before, you had been embarrassed about yourself as he was helping you out of the hospital but he had reassured you that you had nothing to worry about – the gentleman that he was – he didn’t want you to feel ashamed. So, you let yourself relax on his plush sofa cushions while he went about making something to eat for the both of you with a grin on his face, knowing all too well what he had inflicted upon you moments ago.

That’s how the next month or so went by. You pushed yourself to your limits, all of your minor injuries healed (somehow), and followed Jaehyun around while Prim followed you. As promised, Jaehyun brought home a bed for the box room to which you insisted on sleeping in since you were the one who was the guest but he had none of it. In the end, he dressed the room up nicely and it ended up looking like it had been there all along.

At first, Jaehyun hadn’t let you do any of the things you offered to do, especially the cooking. He had a large repertoire of recipes up his sleeve and wasn’t letting you do anything to strain yourself.

Your phone had briefly glitched the first time you turned it on, which was odd on a good day.

“Time passes differently here,” he had explained, “Einstein was right about that one; time is relevant. He almost caught us out one time with his research into it but Yuta turned him around and set him back on track again.”

To which he then had to explain to you who Yuta was. He sounded nice, harmless but what got you was the fact that there were more people like Jaehyun. You had yet to meet more than the man who stood in front of you as he explained that to you.

Weeks into your stay, he took you round to your place, helped you pick up your things and also helped you leave a thick layer of red glitter all over your now ex-boyfriend’s penthouse. He deserved it. According to Jaehyun, your ex was in the process of moving out, as per Jaehyun’s convincing argumentative skills.

You rang some of your family and friends, asking after them and telling them you were okay after it was established between you that you and Soobin were no longer together but the most heartbreaking one was between you and your niece. She had been there, she knew now, even if you didn’t want her too, she knew. You could only pray that it slowly faded from her memory, for her sake more than yours, as she grew older.

According to Hyejin (when she rambled to you on the phone as she bawled, bless her), Soobin had been given the sack and lost most of what he owned. He’d also been sporting a black eye for two weeks after you got out of the hospital. She had been the first person you rang but the small detail had slipped your mind until later that night. You tried not to outright weep tears of joy, knowing that he’d had even the tiniest bit of his own medicine fed back to him, followed suit by you quizzing Jaehyun to which he hid his knuckles behind his back as he walked in with a tray of sushi that had been delivered tonight as a treat before your anime marathon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I haven’t seen him,” he throws his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter after toeing off his shoes in the entrance of his flat.

Having had time to heal, you pull yourself to tuck your legs underneath you as you look over the back of the sofa. “Jaehyun,” you warn. Prim materialises from the depths of Jaehyun’s bedsheets, where you had left her earlier, to greet her beloved owner. She purrs against his leg and he leans down to scratch behind her ear.

“Y/n,” he says back, trying his best to match your tone.

Your eyes follow Prim, closely watching as she jumps onto the kitchen counter and paws at the key-bowl. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth you nibble until you can form a sentence that wouldn’t betray you when it left the corners of your mind.

Thinking about it, you decide against arguing with him on it. If he was lying it wasn’t something that was going to stop you from hanging around him, so why push it? Because you wanted to know why. “You were out a while after you texted me you’d finished food shopping the other day, where’d you go?”

Jaehyun glances at you, his hair stood slightly on end as if he’d been running his hand through it, possibly one too many times. It was shorter than when you had first come into his care – you’d helped him one day to trim it. You’d also insisted that he let you do it because you used to cut your hair in the bathroom mirror. ‘Not the same,’ he had said but he had handed you the scissors all the same. He was still dressing for comfort, something that you appreciated when the evening came and the tv turned on. It was a small flat which meant a small-ish sofa. He wasn’t against wrapping an arm around you and the two of you had been known to fall asleep to a movie or two in recent weeks.

“Went to work, briefly. Gotta make sure everything’s on schedule; they’d practically die without me to ditto everything they’re already sure of,” he flashes you a grin that his dimples can’t escape, “it’s nice to be home.”

You murmur a response.

Scattering away, Jaehyun has a shower after being out and gets dressed quickly to return to you. He walks over to the kitchen, deciding to grab some things for the evening.

His back is turned to you now, he’s grabbing a couple of drinks from the fridge, the glow of the light illuminating his face.

“I missed you.”

You… what?

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage was deafening. Had you just said that out loud? He turns to meet your frantic gaze, waiting for your response. He can barely breathe out the response, “I missed you too.”

He grins, sinking himself into the space next to you and slings his arm over the back, his hand resting close to your neck. “Awh, did you really?”

Your body practically recoils, turning back on itself, “No. I just wanted you to bring ice cream; I’ve been craving it all week.”

Instantly you regret your choice as he frowns slightly and turns away.

You’re forced to think about the countless nights you’d spent curled up in his bed, some of them the result of you weeping into one of his many pastel sweatshirts you adorned about your failed relationship with Soobin, others about how you had neglected to tell your family and friends about the situation you had been in for almost a year by the time Jaehyun had pulled you away from it. Most nights, Jaehyun heard you, upset and alone in the dark. In the beginning, he wasn’t sure what to do about it, part of him knowing that he should leave you to heal but the other part of him screaming that he shouldn’t let you suffer alone – shouldn’t let you think you’re in this alone when you’re most certainly not where he’s concerned.

The first time he had left you, not sure he had heard correct when he came back from work, groggy from the use of his powers and feeling like he needed to faceplant his pillow from the exhaustion. You had stopped, little sniffles being masked by the vibrations of Prim’s purring against your body where she had hopped up on the bed to comfort you, when you thought Jaehyun was listening, hoping that he would leave you to hurt for a short while longer.

He had sensed your hesitation and made his way to the shower, deciding he needed to be fresh for the next morning.

He was oddly caring. Not that it was odd for someone to care but it was odd for someone to care this much and for the person to be Jaehyun was the cherry on top.

Turning back to face you, he grins, “Wanna watch that anime you were telling me about? I googled it last night and read some forums; apparently it’s good.”

Your eyes light up, “Sword Art Online? Yes please.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, chuckling to himself at how eager you are. He loved when you showed interest in things like this. His auburn hair falls into his eyes as he skims through whatever application he had pulled up (Netflix; no chill) while you weren’t looking and he breathes softly through his nose, concentrating on the screen in front of him.

Once again, you were studying him. It had been a long time since you had arrived. Time is relevant, true, but how much time is too much time?

The sun had set an hour or so ago now and you had already eaten some of the takeaway earlier as neither of you had been interested in cooking. You wondered if he knew how the table lamp accentuated his face, the soft hue acting like his usual haze when he was in his suit – which you learned was the reason he practical glowed as he had since told you there was magic twined into the thread it was sewed together with – and made him look angelic. You wondered if he knew the camel sweats he was wearing made you want to cuddle him and nuzzle your nose into his side, somewhere that you felt more than safe to be. You wondered if he knew how much you liked it here and how you were apprehensive about going back to the real world full time.

You’d been out, of course, he couldn’t confine you to his flat even if he wanted to but he always made sure that there were the correct precautions in place. He was always here, anyway, choosing you over everything else so there was rarely a time where you could go out without him. Smiling to yourself, you remind yourself that you don’t think you’d want to go by yourself when there’s a perfectly good Jaehyun waiting for you.

His hair fell in soft waves on his forehead, and his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why he couldn’t find Sword Art Online for you two to watch. The two of you had fallen into a routine, he pats his leg, signalling for you to lay your head down on his lap as he pulls a pillow from behind him for you to rest your head on.

Shifting your body, careful of your ribs still, you lay down and wrap a hand under his leg for leverage, being sure to keep it closer to the back of his knee than his thigh as it was easier to curl your hand. He didn’t mind because when you sat and watched horror movies you would squeeze his leg in anticipation for a jump scare of sorts. He thought it was cute.

Eventually, he finds it, “Here we go,” he mumbles, clicking on the first episode. You settle in, pushing your face further into the cushion as Jaehyun lets his hand rest on your shoulder, somewhere safe for him to touch. His other hand plays with your hair absentmindedly as the episode begins, showing the people who had been waiting for the game to come out so that they could play it.

It remains like this, you making comments here and there, ooh’s and ah’s coming form both of you as you talk about the episode before it rolls over to the next one. At one point, he says something that makes you sit up completely, throwing him off as your warmth leaves his body.

“Did you just suggest that Kirito could be –”

His eyes widen, “I merely suggested that he –”

You scowl, pout and cross your arms, your cardigan falling off your shoulder at an angle, “No! You said what you said. It’s out there now, in the cosmos, for all to judge. You can’t take it back.”

He’s looking at you, first with shock but then with an expectant look. All you were doing was arguing over anime. You’re not sure you remember seeing him like this, eyes filled with something you cannot describe. Is this what being loved feels like? The flying thought catches you off guard and you hold your breath. He wonders if you know that’s how he’s feeling, how he’s seeing you. The rose-tinted filter settled in and he was determined to keep it that way for a long time.

Jaehyun had got dressed after his shower into a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and joined you on the sofa while you were watching the back end of a drama you had been meaning to watch for months before you had switched over to anime. It was your thing; watching anime together.

His hand reaches to rest on the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek and fingers splaying down to reach your neck and brings his face closer to yours, making your breath hitch. The last time you had been like this neither of you were thinking in coherent thoughts. At this point, you’d spent months with him, hiding from your family and friends – only partially as you had wanted to gain your confidence back again and go back with a real job.

His hair was still drying on the ends where he hadn’t bothered to towel dry it. It brushed against your forehead as he brought his forehead to rest on yours, savouring the moment.

Breathily, you manage to say his name.

He hums in response, eyes trained diligently on your lips, waiting for your response. He doesn’t notice how you watch him watching you, he’s enamoured. He loved when you looked like this. So carefree. So pure. So… pretty.

“Kiss me.”

He doesn’t wait any longer.

Lips centimetres form yours, he gives you the opportunity to change your mind but you bring your lips to his, not wanting to drag this out any longer. His fingers stay on your face while your hands have yet to find somewhere to be placed – something that Jaehyun notices – so he picks up your hand and curls it around the back of his neck before wrapping his own around the small of your back, a smirk finding its home on his face.

Feeling more confident, you bring your free hand to splay across his cheek, thumb mindlessly rubbing the dip where his dimple becomes prominent. His hair stands on end on the back of his neck, the sensation of your fingers brushing his face so calmly as he pulls your lower lip between his having caused goosebumps to form down his arms.

Secretly, he was glad he was wearing his sweatshirt so that you couldn’t see how sensitive he was to you.

Jaehyun leans gradually away and you chase his lips, not wanting to forget the feeling any time soon. All of the time you had spent with Soobin and yet none of the moments you had shared felt like this. It made your heart pound and the butterflies were making their way up, tickling your diaphragm as you struggle to breathe.

“Y/n,” he begins, lids heavy and forehead pressed to yours. He’s not really sure what he wants to say… how does one express the euphoria they feel from finally doing the right thing and knowing it’s the right thing? Because that’s how Jaehyun felt. You knew he wanted to say something so you lightly prompt him.

“Jae… what are you thinking?”

His lids close and he bumps his nose with yours, lips parted, “I want to kiss you like that more often.”

You giggle, which throws him off, “Do you?” He looks up to meet your wandering gaze through his lashes, “because I want to kiss you like that more often, too.”

He grins, tightening his grip around your waist, pulling you in until you’re straddling his lap. “Oh yeah? How about I do just that, then.” His lips return to yours. You noticed that Jaehyun’s lips tasted of cherry chapstick, and you loved that, deciding to part the seal of his mouth with your tongue to devour the taste further.

The subtle curve of his lips was something you didn’t want to forget – that was for sure. You work on memorising this feature and lightly tug at the tufts of hair at the back of his head, making him moan into your mouth ever so slightly.

“That was adorable,” you mumble against his lips, lowering yourself so your bum is resting on the heels of your feet either side of his thighs.

His face flushes but he pretends to not notice and instead lets his hands roam until they’re palming the globes of your ass.

This shocks you into action a little, the squeezing fingers forcing you to lift and lean on your knees, breasts pushed up against his chin as you continue to kiss him.

As you slipped your tongue to mingle with his, you decided then and there that you were absolutely in love with kissing him. Possibly smitten, just a tiny bit.

You had worn a tank top and a light cardigan for comfort around the flat, not wanting to pull jeans on and a blouse every morning and instead opting for leggings and light-tees regularly. You weren’t sure what kind of man Jaehyun was, an ass or boob man but something igniting inside you and hardening in his sweatpants told you that you were going to find out pretty damn soon.

Pulling away you offer a small smile at him, he grins, like he knows he’s about to get a present he’s been waiting for ages for. Ironic, considering his job profession.

You bite your lip and let your hands fall down to his arms, running your palms up and down his biceps. By now the episode had rolled over and was about 10 minutes into the next but you and Jaehyun were far too distracted, you figured it would have to wait. It would still be there tomorrow when you could rewatch it and continue your marathon.

His own hands rest below the curve or your breasts, thumbing at the swell.

You dip your head, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before letting your tongue peak out and swirl its way down to his neck. Peppering kisses against his tan skin you pick a spot where he makes the most fuss when you reach it and bruise it with your lips. He groans at the feeling of your lips tainting his skin so skillfully and thinks about how you went to waste on someone like your ex before him. His breathing grows heavy and his fingers run up and down your back in a soothing manner, toying with the hem of your tank top every time his fingers brush the bottom.

“Oh my God,” he breathes out when you’re finished.

You giggle, “What?”

You had slipped your cardigan off, letting it fall in a heap on the floor and hooked your fingers under your shirt before throwing it across the room.

Gazing up at you, you can practically see the hearts spinning around his head. You knew that if this was a Looney Toon cartoon, his eyes would’ve been pounding hearts right about now.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs as you press a closed mouth kiss to his jaw, “…pretty girl.”

You were left in a dark pair of leggings and your t-shirt bra. It wasn’t anything fancy (you were here for comfort, for god’s sake) but Jaehyun looked at you like you had put all the stars in the sky yourself, something you were unfamiliar with. Pride swells in your chest and lust swells in your core.

“Are you going to keep staring or are you going to do something?” You tease. He merely smirks, enjoying what he hasn’t even done yet, and buries his head between your breasts.

You let out a small “Oof” noise and steady yourself on his shoulders. Leaning on your feet normally would’ve been enough but when he stuck his head between your boobs it had knocked you slightly off balance. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blades, pressing crescetn moons into his skin, but Jaehyun takes no notice as he noses his way to a fleshy spot and attaches his lips.

“Smell so good,” he’s referring to the perfume you had brought with you when you cleaned out your apartment. “Wanna taste,” he mumbles into your boobs. Your panties dampen at the confession, not knowing completely how to respond without crying out a moan.

Unshockingly so, this was one of the few tinmes you had felt like the only girl in the world, not to quote Rihanna, but it was truly a moment you had no desire to forget any time soon.

Instinctively, your hands retire to the back of his head, pulling him closer whilst he goes to town on a hickey he’s suckling into your skin.

Pulling back, he grins, “Perfect.” He’s admiring his handiwork but it still sends the stupid butterflies contained in your abdomemn stir crazy when his gaze meets yours, filled with lust, love, adoration – whatever you want to call it, his eyes contained it. Lids low and mind focused, his hand snakes behind your body to unhook your bra but you stop him.

In fear of pushing you too far he drops his hand and waits, eyes wide for what had stopped you.

“I-I haven’t – no – I don’t…” you struggle to find the correct words in front of Jaehyun, the cool breeze making you shiver in the slightest.

“What is it, angel?” He brings his hands to your waist, rubbing slow circles to calm you.

“Soobin,” you exhale. It was all Jaehyun needed to know so he took a deep breath.

He’s watching you as he says, “I don’t care. That was then… this is now.”

You nod. His features twist into a smile, images of that night coming back to him, “Plus I already fucked you against the –”

Your hand finds itself pressed across his mouth in the blink of an eye, praying he doesn’t finish that sentence, “I know,” you squeak before emphasising, “I was there.”

He tilts his head and offers a mischievous glint, “I thought you didn’t think I was real, simply a figment of your imagination, if I do remember correctly.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes, “Stop with that! You showed up, dressed in red and in the middle of the night after I’d written a letter that only I could know the contents of. Who’s to say you weren’t an incubus, huh?”

A single eyebrow is raised on his part.

“And you were gone before I woke up,” you mumble against his neck, now enticed by his scent again, “I never told anyone because it sounds wild, right? You have to admit that part at the very least.”

That made him take a second to process, “I never thought of it like that,” he mumbles, pressing feather-light kisses up your arm.

“It was something I thought about for a while,” you meekly replied to his unasked question.

“Well,” he begins, “you don’t have to worry any longer,” and presses his lips to your clavicle, fingers unclasping your bra behind you, this time you let him, sighing into his golden touch, boobs pressed against his chest. He groans at the feeling or your unclothed, hardened nipples cutting in on his pecs. You sling your bra across the room, not giving much thought or care towards where it ended up as there were more pressing matters you cared about.

Your neck is tipped back as his tongue dips to the valley of your breasts, he places an endearing kiss to your sternum and sets his sights onto your nipples.

Hand resting on the nape of his neck, you arch into the feeling of his wet mouth latching onto your nipple, peak caught between his tongue and teeth as he teases you, and tug on his hair.

He savours this, moaning before switching to your other nipple, not wanting to leave one without the same amount of attention. At this point, your panties are embarrassingly soaked from all of the stimulation.

“You’re so good to me,” you whine, not talking about just this very moment. You’re reminiscing about the past couple of months you’ve spent in his care too and something tells you that he knows that too.

He releases your nipple from his lips and glances up at you, “Is that so, angel?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, not sure what he wants you to say or what you should say to keep the mood going, “all the time. Miss you so much because of it,” you pout slightly, not wanting to draw too much from the conversation in case things went sideways.

You bring your hands to his cheeks, resting either side and pinch lightly, toying with him. “Keep me happy,” you state before leaning down to kiss him again. His eyes flutter close and you trail your hands down his abdomen, pressing harder with your nails as you slide them down to the hem of his jumper.

“Off,” you mutter against his lips. He gladly complies, you were topless and it was only fair he comes level with your nakedness. When you part momentarily to lift it over his head, your hungry eyes zone in on how constricted his hardened dick was within the confines of his sweatpants.

Jaehyun notices this, ruffled hair askew and mind now clear from the fog you had bestowed upon him when you had kissed him. He knew what he wanted, did you want it too?

Without hesitation, you palm the outline of his dick over the sweatpants, wanting to see his reaction. You were best pleased when he fights the urge to roll his eyes but bites his lip to stop himself from thrusting into your silky touch. Not that he’d felt that today, just yet.

You stifle a giggle, “Eager, pretty boy.”

One kiss is placed to his lips before you slip off of his lap, knees thudding as they land on the floor. You hook your index fingers around the waistband of his sweats and underpants, the tell-tale Tommy band staring back at you, knowing he would comply but you only pull them down just enough to free his weeping cock.

It springs up, slapping against his abdomen, veins prominent from the grining you had been doing earlier. Your mouth waters at the sight and you lick your lips, praying that it lives up to your expectations.

You give him a few slow strokes of your nails up him and one of his hands reaching up to push a few stray strands of hair form your face.

He groans when you finally wrap your slender fingers around his shaft, thumb wiping the leaking tip of his swollen mushroom head. It throbbed a pretty shade of pink, much like his lips, after you pressed a delicate kiss to the top.

“So, so good to me, angel,” are the words that leave his lips when you lick your own before dipping your head to lick up the underside. You offered a devilish smile and lowered your hot mouth onto his throbbing length slowly, wanting to savour every second and push Jaehyun to his limit.

You hum in agreeance to his statement, sending a shiver up his spine and eliciting a moan from him, his hands quickly tangling themselves in your loose hair as he makes a make-shift ponytail to keep your hair out of your face.

Once your jaw has adjusted to the burn of his girth, he helps you bob your head up and down, curling the ponytail around one hand and using that as leverage. Flattening your tongue, you press it to the underneath of his length. You experiment with seeing how much you can take as it’s been a long time since you’ve been intimate with someone like this. One of your manicured hands reaches down to tickle his balls – a trick Hyejin had taught you the last time you were having one of those conversations – and he all but thrusts up into your throat, making you clench your legs and rub them together for some friction as your eyes close tight, forcing tears to run down your face.

“Oh fuck, I don’t think I can ah-” he lifts you off of his dick and brings your mouth to his, pressing hard against your own.

You’re flushed from his abrupt actions but that doesn’t stop you from stripping yourself of your leggings when he practically begs you to. Unsure what he wants next, you fiddle until he instructs you, “Those too,” he gestures to your panties. They weren’t grand but, had you not been about to get it on with possibly the hottest and most caring man you’ve come across, you would’ve been embarrassed about him seeing them in any normal situation.

Once they’re discarded, he stands, shimmys out of his sweats and pants and brings you close to him and guides a leg to wrap around his waist, rock hard dick pressed between your two sweaty bodies.

He kisses you hard, a clash on tongue and teeth; it’s one of the messiest kisses you had ever been on the receiving end of but ultimately still one of the best you’ve been able to experience, and lowers the two of you onto the sofa.

Again, you’re perched on your heels. He breaks the kiss, looking between your bodies to align himself with your entrance. “I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters against the column of your throat.

“Wha-”

He waits no longer before slipping himself into your core impossibly easily, as he sets a killer pace.

Squealing, you let your head fall onto his shoulder as you try your best to thrust down as much as he thrusts up into you but it was proving difficult as he suckled sweetly on the juncture where your neck and shoulder met – sending your senses into overdrive.

“S-so tight,” he breathes out, trickles of sweat forming in his hairline. One of the few brain cells you have working tells you the clench on his next thrust, only making him moan louder than before. In response, he ups the pace, setting his sights on destroying your sweet pussy.

Knowing full-well that he hadn’t tasted your arousal like he had originally intended, he brings his finger to dance across your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves until you were whining, hips stuttering as your vision hazes, unsure of how to control yourself. Still unable to match his deadly pace, you settle on tensing your legs and hovering above him where he pounds upwards, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing around the room.

You knew that by the time he was going to be finished, your ass was going to be tainted red from where his balls were slapping your underside as he pounds into you.

“Jaehyun,” you barely manage to breathe out, “fu… fuck.” Not what you were going for so you give it another try, “Jae… kiss.”

His eyes linger on your disheveled features. You open your eyes and look down at him, worried that he hadn’t heard you. His eyes meet yours; you pout, “Kiss me, p-ah–” one particularly strong thrust ignites inside you, the tell-tale sign of your orgasm about to snap through you; halts your half-hearted attempt at riding him.

He captures your lips with his, nibbling on your lip before licking it as if to heal it. His fingers are still rubbing tiny circles in your clit that send you over the edge and into complete euphoria, spine arching.

Within milliseconds, your vision is blurring and eyes unfocus, switching for white dots across your line of sight to pair with the white hot pleasure ripping through your core. “Ah,” you whine, “oh... Jae-Jaehyun,” your voice breaks, not being able to comprehend the possibility of more thanone thing happening at once.

As you clamp down on him unintentionally, he groans, unable to hold back any longer and empties his load inside your trembling pussy, cursing as he does.

Moments pass before he can bring himself to say anything, “You’re so perfect, angel. So pretty and perfect.”

You lift your head to look at him. At his fucked-out face you melt into him, swety bodies gradually becoming one and sliding off of his softening cock so you can wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle closer to him. He brings his arms around your waist, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and breathing sharply through his nose.

“You’re so good to me. Can’t remember the last time someone fucked me that good,” you whisper against the shell of his ear. You have one hand raking your fingers through his hair. You breathe out a laugh as he shivers at the feeling.

Knowing that was probably an ego boost enough, you press a languid kiss to the side of his mouth, not really paying much attention to where your lips landed. Continuing to pepper him with kisses, he stirs slightly, not wanting all of this attention to go to waste.

“Hey, c’mere,” he says, holding you from your waist before slowly lowering you onto the sofa beside him so your back is flat.

You’re barely holding it together, Jaehyun’s cum trickling down the side of your leg from your sore hole. He pushes your legs apart, one falls haphazardly off of the sofa and the other is pressed between his side and the back of the sofa. He doesn’t care, though, bringing two fingers up to meet your quivering core.

“What are you doi – ah!”

A lazy grin spreads across Jaehyun’s face, his fingers now covered in yours and his essence as he stuffs it back into you. The overstimulation makes you quiver but he was determined about making you suffer. “So pretty with my cum stuffed inside you, angel, so pretty.”

By now, you’re convinced he’s drunk but you don’t put it past yourself to consider yourself just as drunk on him as he is on you. You squirm, not wanting him to continue as his fingers repeat their actions. “O-oh, too much,” you whimper, “sore, so fucking sore baby.”

You knew you probably could’ve handled a little more but he obliges, not wanting to scare you away (as if that was even possible) and finishes by pushing his fingers past your lips, coaxing you to lick them clean.

Gladly, you do as he was silently suggesting.

He groans, his dick twitching but he ignores it, knowing you’re still healing and by the state of you currently, you probably weren’t up for another round. Instead, he picks you up bridal style and takes you to the bathroom, feet wobbling a few times on the way before getting to the bathroom.

“Gotta clean up, angel.”

You mumble, putting your legs to use and absently moving to switch the shower head on, soaking both of you in the stall. The water is freezing but you make no complaints, wanting to settle the heat radiating from your body. Jaehyun says nothing too. He just helps you clean yourself as you’re making a half-hearted effort – this makes him chuckle.

Twenty minutes later, the both of you are laying on his bed (the one he gave up for you), snuggled into each other.

For the first time in a long time, you slept in the crook on an arm where you felt safe, possibly loved (that would have to be addressed another time).

While you lay, breathing slowly as you listen to his heartbeat, Jaehyun has his head propped up with one arm and his other arm rests on your side, t-shirt that he had lent you riding up on the side, fingers running up and down as he takes in the feel of your smooth skin under his fingertips.

Jaehyun was smitten.

a/n: hi hello. how, uh, how was it? feel free to leave me some feedback or pop in my ask box. you’re all my angels. i just like posting to post sometimes but interaction is p darn cool too. lyl <3

i follow from @00solarsmiles​

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copyright © 2021, 01solarsmiles on tumblr. please don’t repost or translate.

net: @neowritingsnet

[siriusmydeer]

james potter smut alphabet

james potter x fem!reader

a/n: that took from 9:45pm-12:pm then 7am-9:20am THAT TOOK SO LONG OMG

i’m sorry if it’s bad

warning: literally pure sex smut all that jazz

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

that man is the softest dom, literally the DEFINITION. he gives u so many kisses, he praises u, he will shower with you, wash your hair, gives u his clothes LITERALLY THE BEST.

“mhm jamie, too tired” you murmur. your body melting into the mattress as you speak, all worn down. “but, love.” he pushes your hair behind your ears, pulling you up. “gotta get you all nice and clean f’me.”

he pulls you up, his calloused hands gripping onto your thighs, bringing you into the bathroom. the shower already nice and warm ready for the both of you. he’s holding you under the warm water to the point where you might collapse if it wasn’t for his grip.

“you did good love, so so good all f’me.” he says sponging kisses on your forehead, both of his hands on your lower back holding you.

“i love you, my sweets.”

“you’re the only one f’me.”

you were so tired, so vulnerable just allowing james to take care of you because that’s all he wanted to do.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his biceps, simple. he does A LOT of quidditch training to get to his strength. he also takes pride in being able to just fuck you against the lockers from his strength. it also inflates his ego when he catches you staring at his biceps. or when he’s taking you underneath him your gripping his biceps like your life depended on it.

“james- fuck.” you moaned into his neck, his lips sucking dark hues into your collar bones and his left forearm resting right beside your head and his other gripping around your waist.

he started going slower, but deeper. he hit a new angle inside of you almost hitting your cervix. you let out a strangled moan gripping his bicep almost digging your nails into the flesh.

his head dipping out from beneath your neck to slot your plush reddened lips with his.

that man and you’re THIGHS. he’s a thigh man don’t tell me other wise. whether ur in your school skirt, jeans, leggings, underwear ;) his legs AND HANDS always divert to the soft plush skin of your thigh.

your ankles insticntly went to lock around james’ head, he had been in between your thighs for hours on end without a stop.

“james- i’m gonna cum.” you breathed out in a moan. his hands squeezing at the flesh on your thigh, they were reddened and begging to lightly bruise from him doing those similar actions for the last hour and a half.

“cum darling, cum for me.”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

so, esentially speaking theres wizard potions to block out pregnancy. so he would be CUMMING INSIDE OF U. not nessesarily a breeding kink but he likes when your full and stuffed with his cum. he also loves to cum on your chest or thighs because he likes the contrast to your skin and he think it makes you so utterly pretty.

the wave of euphoria and stars dancing across your vision had almost come to an end as your boyfriends thrust got sloppy and rigid.

“pretty girl where do you want it, where do you want my cum?” he panted to you, close to his release.

“i want you to cum inside me jamie, please. fill me up.” you let out a small moan at his constant friction when you felt ropes of seed shoot into you, he rode out his orgasam then pulled out. you clenched around nothing as he came face to you cunt.

he pushed his fingers into you, a small moan leaving your mouth as you made eye contact with him.

“gotta keep you all nice and full, yeah?”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

there’s nothing he would want more than a lap dance. you in you your lingerie you had just bought giving him a little show after one of a quidditch wins. 

“mhm, sit f’me.” you whispered into his ear, placing him to hit at the end of his four poster bed.

“and what have you got going on darling? a suprise?” he said, leaning against his two hands watching you pry at your tie and slip it off.

slowly unbuttoning your school blouse, flinging it on the floor. he lets out a small groan at the sight of you almost naked in your skirt. you walk towards him shuffling onto his lap.

“you did win after all, and winners get rewards.” you said circling your hips onto his clothed cock .

“fuck... the things you do to me.” he groaned into your ear as you continued.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

i’m gonna be honest i don’t think that much when you first get together. i mean there’s been ladies he’s a marauder but he’s only ever wanted to you so i feel like he just gets to know your body really well and he sort of just has instincts. like during your first time there’s those little awkward moments but you both make it run all good and smoothly

“s’gonna hurt y/n.” he murmured to you, situating himself in between your legs as you lock your ankles behind his back.

“i know, but i want this. i want you. i need you inside me.” you whisper in desperation for him, needing to feel him.

“you ready?”

“mhm, please.”

he slowly started to slide into you, when you let out your first hiss of discomfort, he slotted his fingers between yours and slightly halted his movements.

“keep going jamie.” you encouraged

he slid his way into your cunt until he was fully in.

“move please, i need to feel you.” he did his first pulse, light movements when you let an involuntary moan escape the threshold of your lips.

“mhm- jamie, keep going.”

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

missionary bc he just wants to see your beautiful face, against the quidditch lockers so he can just hold you against them or doggy bc he likes to choke you or pull you up so he can see your back arch for him.

you heard the bang of metal as james took you against the quidditch lockers and you tried to muffle your moans against his lips.

“gotta- gotta be quiet love. wouldn’t want anyone to know what we’re doing in here.” he panted into you ear. he continued as he angled your leg higher, hitting you g-spot as he continued his pace.

“james fuck- so good. so fucking good.”

“you look so fucking beautiful like this y/n.”

“j-james i- i cant hold on much longer. s’too much.” you moaned and whimpered from the back of your throat.

“pretty girl cum for me.”

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

there’s 2 kinds of sex with james, giggly super soft lovie sex. not necessarily making jokes but just giggling because he just tickled your side my accident or accidentally bumping noses. or there’s big dom daddy james where it’s very PASSIONATE but he’s very dominate.

his hand ran down the depth of your curves, a little giggle bubbling through your throat. he looked at you with a cocked brow, repeating his action as his chin rested on your stomach a small smirk on his lips.

you giggled again, your hand running through his hair. you brought his face to your lips as your finger tips danced under his jaw.

he giggled at your actions as well, also seemingly ticklish under his neck.

“you’re so distracting james potter.” you groaned as he continued to pulse through you while giggling at you.

“i’m distractingly beautiful y/n y/l/n”

“quite insuffer- fuck!” you were caught off with a moan as his fingertips danced on your clit. stimulating you.

“hmmm darling, cat got your tongue?”

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

so james has that thick mangle of tresses on his head, so i feel like he’s quite cleanly shaven, maybe just a bit of a stubble? but i feel like he would shave not only to make it more comfortable for him but for you seemingly easier and more comfortable.

i don’t think he would care if you were shaved or not, as long as you were comfortable your natural body hair is not stopping him from going down on your or having sex with you.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

ROMANCE KING ILL SAY IT ONCE ILL SAY IT TWICE ILL SAY IT THREE TIMES IF HE COULD EVERYTIME HE WOULD SPREAD ROSE PETALS AND CANDLES AND LIGHT FIRE PLACES AND E V E R Y T H I N G. during the whole thing your hands would e interlocked with his, chests pressed against eachother, eye contact, soft touches, soft kisses and mumbles of praise like whew.

“jamie- what’s this?” you asked, your eyes scanning around the room with floating candles and rose petals on the floor.

“well i figured i’d make it special, i dunno.” he murmured shoving his hands in his pockets. you turned towards him with a grin your face.

you grasped his face between your palms lightly kissing his lips before speaking.

“a real sap you are potter, my sap.”

“correct, 10 points go y/h.”

“thanks professor potter.” you teased before leaning in to kiss his lips again.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

i feel like he would A LOT and you would catch him A LOT. somwtimes u aren’t always there but u know what is there, a picture of you and his hands and he makes due when he needs too. but normally he just goes to you because he would rather anyways but sometimes there are bigger priorities then his random hard ons.

“y/n- fuck me...” he moaned, his hand pumping his cock in one hand and the other gripping his bed post, knuckles turning a shade of white.

his only thought being the way you looked under him, on top of him, infront of him, you’re beautiful beautiful body. you were currently occupied helping mcgonagall with extra transfiguration while james was in need... of you.

you had finished early, waltzing into james’ room like normal except you were met with a familiar sight of james pumping his cock in his hand while his head was slightly leant back and his jaw was slack.

you cleared your throat, crossing your arms and a smirk on your lips with an eyebrow raise. “couldnt wait atleast an hour could you?” you teased, walking closer.

“well now that your here, could you lend a hand?”

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

james has a daddy kink😐 literally that’s one of his most prominent kinks. i mean your his angel, his darling girl he would do anything for you i mean he just wants to make you happy. and i mean you calling him daddy while withering under him just makes him 😁

“daddy... please.” you begged him.

“ive been a good girl. i promise!” you were almost yelling at him, wanting him to understand.

“sweetheart we’re you a good girl when flirting with sirius?” his face got seemingly close to yours, asking you the question while raising one of his eyebrows.

“no daddy.” you said, embarassed. you had been waiting for james attention all night long but instead he was stuck all up in detention for a prank against snape.

and then when he finally arrived to the common room he barely spared you a word, so you did what you had to do to grab his attention and... it worked.

“so tell me baby, whyd you break the rules?”

“i just wanted your attention daddy! i just wanted you!”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

i think his fave would be the dorms in the bed. but the prefects bath is a very close second. and he surely doesn’t mind the common room or broom closets that are very open to public where you both could get caught in comprising positions.

you heard the slosh of the water beside you, as you moved your hips onto james’ submerged underneath the prefects bath water as u straddled him.

his hands came to steady your hips as your buried your head in his neck, and continuously grinding your cunt onto james’ dick.

“fuck angel... just like that.” he moaned while tightening his grip

“f-fuck jamie-“ you whimpered in his ear, clawing at his shoulders.

“you’re doing amazing pretty girl, keep doing- fuck- you feel so good around me.” he praised you while groaning.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

SO JAMES LOVES HAVING HIS HAIR PULLED IN BED; WHEN HES GOING DOWN ON YOU, IN MISSIONAIRY, WHEN YOUR RIDING HIM JUST ALL THE TIME SO WHEN U PLAY WITH THAT MANZ HAIR HE COULD THROW YOU OVER IN SECONDS AND GET U ON THAT BED.

“so fucking tired.” james muttered walking into the common room after a two hour detention with filch.

he saw your body displayed on the vermillion couch, very opening that his body could just rest on yours while you were in a conversation with remus and sirius.

he quietly sprawled his head on your lap, his arms arranging around your waist as he gor comfortable.

you mindlessly started caressing his hair, and pulling on the tuffs lovingly, that was until you felt a hard pressure pressing against your calf that you remembered james’ small dirty secret.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i don’t feel like he would be into hurting you? like slapping, knife kinks, seeing you hurt i don’t think he would find that arousing he would more just be concerned because he doesn’t like to see your hurting. i think he would still like spankings but i don’t think he would slap you in the face or anything.

“so y/n, d’you think you’d try it?” sirius asked you, while your eyes paid more attention on the potions text book infront of you.

“try what?” you muttered, clearly disinterested in the conversation.

“knives in bed.”

you brought your head up to look at him, cocking an eyebrow confused at his question.

“um, probably not. i don’t know that’s an odd question pads.” you muttered turning your attention back to your potions book.

“but wouldnt that like... hurt her?” you heard james say in a concerned and confused tone to sirius.

“could if you wanted too, but it’s more of the thrill.” sirius replied to james.

“no, i don’t think i want the ‘thrill’ m’good, thanks.” he agitatedly replied to sirius and looked at his own book.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

i feel like he would like both equally but he’s more of a giver at heart. it’s kind of whatever happens in the moment because when your thighs are wrapped around his head it’s like heaven but your pretty lips wrapped around his cock? also heaven.



your hands braced his thighs as your plunged your mouth deeper onto his girth, trying to take him all in while breathing for your knows.

“you take my cock so well pretty girl.” he praises to you, his hand in a makeshift pony tail holding your hair away from your face.

you went back to his tip, kissing and swirling your tongue around trying to catch your breath before pushing your mouth onto him keeping a fast past.

“i’m gonna cum-“ he groaned and his own release shooting ropes of cum down youve throat cut him off.

he slowly rid out his high as you continue to suck and then swirled your tongue around the tip and opening your mouth to show that you had swallowed his release.

“good girl.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

i feel like he changes pace a lot? sometimes it’s really fast, and deep but sometimes very slow and passionate and deep and loving. he’s a man of many talents and whatever the mood is he can keep that pace.

his hand had one firm grasp on your waist as he pounded you from behind and the other gripped the root of your hair.

“you gonna be a messy little girl?” he taunted you through gritted teeth

“y-yes.” you muttered through moans.

he had just lost a quidditch match to slytherin and you offered a solution.

something nice and rough.

and that’s exactly what the both of you wanted.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

i feel like they would happen from time to time but i feel like he would be more into proper sex because you are literally his only priority like getting you off is all he cares about so maybe there’s a quick a few times but definitely not all the time.

“shh if you’re not quiet someone’s going to walk walk by and hear.” james taunted you, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head dug into his neck trying to hold back your moans.

“james- i- i cant s’too much, too much.” you said while biting your lip, unable to see much do you the darkness of the broom closet.

“well sweet girl that’s what happens when you get needy during school hm? is my pretty little slut gonna cum all over my cock while anyone could walk in?” he began to mock you.

“mhm- yes.” your lip becoming dry and chapped from all the incessant biting, “please can i cum?”

“go on, cum y/n.”

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

i feel as long as it wasn’t hurting you or it ended up with you or him like getting with other people he would try it?

“are you sure, m’scared i might hurt you.” james murmured while tying your hands up to the bed post.

“m’fine, promise.” you assured him, that night you were trying something new. both of you had previously talked about ties and bondage and you wanted to try it once to see if you’d both like it.

you pulled on the ropes a bit making sure they weren’t cutting off the circulation of your wrists.

“see? m’good jamie.”

“ok but if something happens tell me, i don’t want you to hold back because i might be enjoying it you’re not.”

“james i promise.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too.”

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

that man happens to be a QUIDDITCH PRODIGY. HE IS A SEEKER. WHICH MEANS HE CAN LAST AWHILE. i believe that he would stop when you wanted to stop, like he could fuck you all night if he wanted too.

“one more darling, one more f’me.” his voice hoarse from the previous three rounds.

he wanted to know if you could go any more, ready to stop at any time.

“one more?” you said breathily to him.

“just one.”

“yes daddy, i want you, please.” you plead to your bespectacled boyfriend, you began clenching around nothing feeling empty again.

“mhm please, please i want you.”

“alright darling, no need to fret. m’right here.” he assured.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

i think he’s more like “why would you need those when you have me.” type of guy. like i don’t feel like he would have them even for punishments he would rather do it himself, even because he would feel closer to you like he’d rather fuck and tease you then silicone (bruh 😭)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

i feel like you would do more of the teasing because he would automatically become obdient to you. if he was teasing it wouldn’t be for long because he would fuck himself from watching you squirm and tease you.

his palm rested on the inside of your thigh, tracing little shapes as goosebumps rose onto your skin.

“nervous, darling?” he teased in your ear while you were trying to converse with peter about arithmancy homework during dinner at the great hall.

“james. stop. teasing.” you said through gritted teeth, your legs squirming at his fingers grazing your panties.

“but you’re so beautiful like this, about to make a mess during dinner? think that’s polite y/n?” he mocked you, he loved that he had that effect on you.

you turned towards his face that was almost touching the shell of your ear.

“if you keep doing this i won’t fuck you for a month.” you whispered, venom like words leaving your throat.

his sapphire eyes quickly widened as he moved his hand by the cap of your knee. you smirked as he was almost frantic by your words.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he wants the whole hogwarts castle to know that you’re his so he is loud. he groans, he moans, he dirty talks, he moans your name like he is EXTRA with it. sometimes you almost have to shush him but he’s not having any of that.

“james, hush! you’re going to get all the prefrecfs scrambling around the room if you’re to loud!” you said covering his mouth, feeling him smirk against your palm.

“but darling, that’s the whole point. don’t you want everyone to know who you belong to?” you flushed and pulled your hand away from his face.

“that’s what i thought love.”

“you know sirius will never let us live this down, bet he can hear from the common room.”

“then let’s give him a show, shall we?”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

cockwarming. if you’re being a brat that’s one of the ways he’s gonna punish you, while he’s working on a prank and his arm is just around your waist to make you stop squirming.

“if you’re going to be a brat angel, i’m gonna start treating you like one.” he murmured to your squirming figure as he tried to figure out a new prank on snape.

you were sat on top of his cock, clenching and squirming almost begging for him to touch you.

“jamie please i need you, please, please please.” you begged him, yet no avail. a determined look on his face as he was scribbling on the parchment.

he swatted your bum, you jolted a bit at the sudden friction of his hand and began to whine.

he looked at you, a dark look in his eyes which shut you up immediately because you knew what that look meant.

“hmm, so you can listen to the rules? good girl.”

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

that man is big and thick and he KNOWS HE IS. i’d say 8inches hard?

you rested your bum on to your calves before scooching up to this belt buckle as he was standing, holding a faux-ponytail of your hair between his calloused fingers.

“are you sure, y/n? you don’t have to if you don’t want too.” he looked down at you, puling your eyes to look in his sapphire ones.

“m’sure james.” you assured him, undoing the buckle and swiftly pulling down his boxers and uniform pants at the same time.

his shirt discarded on the floor earlier, his dick slapping his clenched stomach. he was already hard from your teasing and grinding earlier.

your eyes widened at his size, nervous how you would fit it all in your mouth.

“what’s wrong darling?” he started to get concerned at your frozen state.

“nothing.. y-your just, so big.” you said looking at his cock and hearing a chuckle in the backround.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

i feel like it’s pretty high but it’s always depending on you, he would rather die than force you to do anything if you weren’t feeling it or just didn’t want too. so if you’re up for anything than so is he.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if it’s during the day i don’t think he would get that tired, but if it was during the night and he just finished aftercare i feel like you would lay on his chest if he hadn’t worked you hard enough and you guys would just talk about anthing. but if you guys did a lot of rounds and you were on the verge of slumber he would just kiss your hairline and praise you as you fell asleep.

“my good girl.” he said while kissing your forehead. “i love you so so much, you’re the only one for me.” his hand dragging against the arch of your back, the only thing seperating him from your skin was the shirt he put on you.

“my sweets, does everything for me. how could i have gotten so lucky.” he whispered on the shell of your ear.

“hmm, jamie been asking myself the same thing.” you murmured, sleep almost pulling you under but not enough for you to reply to him.

“goodnight james. i love you.”

“i love you more, my sweets.”

taglist: @mushroomfleur @fathermarty @kittykylax @famdomhideout @90steaology

if you’re username is crossed out that means the blog name is incorrect and you need to resubmit your form form my taglist!

[ushittyoldman]

sweetheart like you

request.  hiii welcome! my brain is empty rn but some spike fics would be so amazing! i’ll probably be back when i have an idea but for now maybe just some first kiss with Spike and up until then they had just been flirting:)

pairing. spike x fem!reader

warning. language, mentions of s ex, & just a whole bunch of fluff

a/n. my first spike request eeeeee here u go anon! i hope u like it, it’s still taking me a while 2 pin down his characterization so i kinda just went w how i thought he’d b in a situation like this. nevertheless, i hope u like it thank u 4 this cute asf request (fun fact! spike always reminded me of bob dylan bc of his hair so this title came from a bob dylan song) 

"Found him,” you mumbled discreetly into your ear piece, your sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“Attagirl,” you heard Spike’s smooth drawl through the ear piece, and you attempted to conceal the slight smile that had made its way to your face.

“Careful, Spike, looks like I’m doing your job for you,” you teased, still keeping a watchful eye on the slimy suspect who happened to hold a handsome bounty on his head.

“Can’t really complain when you look so much better doing it.”

“Just fuck already so I don’t have to hear this everyday!” Faye snapped, and this time you couldn’t help the soft blush that colored your cheeks. You tightened your jacket around yourself, attempting to alleviate some of the embarrassment you felt.

“It’s not like that—”

“You know you’re always welcome to join us, Faye,” Spike retaliated, and this time you couldn’t hold back your giggle. Had you turned around, you wouldn’t have missed Spike’s smile widening upon hearing the musical sound.

“I’d rather die.” Faye deadpanned, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t laugh too loudly due to the delicate position you were currently in.

“One day... just one day of peace and quiet. You think that’s a lot to ask for, Ein?” 

Silence followed Jet’s tired question, and you realized you’d have to once again step up and apologize on behalf of you three. You softly mumbled into the earpiece, “Sorry, Jet, remind me to buy you a new bonsai tree to make it up to you!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he enthusiastically said your name. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an absolute sweetheart?”

“Once or twice.”

Before anyone could respond, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. The man you had been tailing had stood up from his seat on the couch, paying the stripper who had clung to him for the majority of the hour. You began to subtly gather your things and pay for your drink at the bar, preparing to follow him out of the club.

“He’s on the move,” you angled your head to your left, eyes searching for familiar brown eyes, “I’m gonna follow him.”

Once your eyes met Spike’s, an understanding passed between you two. He had been sitting on one of the couches towards the back of the dimly-lit room. His long legs were spread as his arm was casually draped over the top of the couch, and a cigarette loosely hung from his lips. His long hair was pulled back slightly, since it was styled to mimic the type of men who frequented the club, and you smiled at the memory of you and Faye attempting to tame his hair in the bathroom right before you three departed on the mission. Though he was attempting to pass off as a regular civilian enjoying the strip show, there was something about Spike that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Realizing you had probably spent an abnormal amount of time admiring him, you met his eyes again and decided to ignore the look of blatant amusement that so clearly danced within them.

You simply nodded once and you silently applauded yourself on being able to catch the subtle nod he gave you in response in the dimly-lit room. His lips quirked up slightly, and you somehow felt more reassured in your ability to pursue the criminal.

Gulping down the last of your drink just for that liquid confidence, you delicately placed the payment on the table, and adjusted your top as you followed the man out the door. As you left the strip club, you noticed the shadow of the man’s trench coat as he leisurely walked towards the darker side of the already extremely shady town. You inhaled sharply before wrapping your own coat around yourself tighter. Suddenly, the man took a sharp left turn into a narrow dark alleyway between two buildings with impossibly bright neon signs.

“He went down an alley— that’s gotta be a dead-end. It’s almost too easy!”

Spike quickly yelled out your name, an odd edge to his words. “No! We’re sticking to the plan.”

“But I can—”

“Spike’s right, it’s too risky,” Faye interrupted evenly, though her tone showcased her own concern at your irrational thinking.

Deciding to prove them wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and tightened your grip on the concealed gun. You let out a soft exhale, your breath visible in the frosty night. You immediately turned the corner, prepared to take the man by surprise, yet you stilled in shock when you were suddenly slammed against the brick wall. You could faintly hear your sunglasses clatter on the ground. You saw stars the moment your head hit the wall, and you were almost positive you were dealing with a concussion. You internally grimaced at the earful you’d undoubtedly be receiving from Spike, Jet, and Faye.

“What do you think you’re doing, you sneaky little bitc— ooh,” he mockingly cooed, “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you heard Spike groan in your earpiece, most likely realizing you deliberately disobeyed the plan.

The man’s rough hands began playing with your hair, and you tried your best not to cringe at the feeling. Briefly, you conceded that Faye and Jet may have been right when they voiced their concerns over you working alongside the bounty hunters on this mission. You were the Bebop’s resident medic, and you had an alarming lack of experience with guns and self-defense in general. The two facts paired with your intense hatred of harming people, and you were most definitely the least qualified person to be on this mission.

Momentarily, you wondered why you even pushed so hard to join your friends and leave the safety of the Bebop. You suddenly thought of Spike. Spike with his lazy smile, as he encouraged you to join them. Spike and his untamable hair as he taught you how to use a gun. Spike and his warm hands as he softly caressed your cheek the first and only time you had managed to take him down in your self-defense classes.

You groaned internally as the realization hit you harder than the concussion.

Stupid Spike.

Deciding not to succumb to death just as yet, you abruptly realized there was a technique that Spike had taught you for this very occasion. You groggily tried to remember the technique, and you urged yourself to remember quicker when the man began to trail his hands down your body. Belatedly, you realized your coat was now on the ground, drenched in the wet snow, and the unforgiving cold air was nipping at your exposed arms and legs.

“Gonna take you on a ride, girly,” he wickedly mumbled in your ear, and you tried your best not to flinch.

Through the cloudy haze of your brain, you managed to mimic Spike’s exact movements as you replayed the memory of his lean body demonstrating what to do. Lifting your knee to kick the suspect in his groin, you cringed as he let out a yell of pain. He bent over, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction by lifting yourself up and gracefully (you’d like to think) wrapping your thighs around his head, letting out a quiet grunt as you used all of your weight to flip the two of you over and onto the cold pavement. You shakily landed on your feet, but you heard a sickening crunch as the man’s face was the first to make contact with the concrete. The guilt almost bubbled to the surface, but you decided he was one of the few who deserved what he got.

You let out a quick huff as your ample chest heaved up and down with every breath. You could feel that your hair was a tousled mess, and your skirt had ridden up considerably. 

“Holy shit.” 

You looked up quickly and belatedly realized Spike had been standing there, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face, though there was also an uncharacteristic red tint to his angular face.

“Spike?” you breathed out. Despite his relaxed expression, you were momentarily worried that he would be annoyed with you not following the plan.

“Quite the little badass, aren’t you?” he responded, no heat and all fondness.

You took a step towards him, though you swayed slightly. You grimaced at the idea of your bare knees hitting pavement, but more so at the fact that you’d be embarrassing yourself in front of Spike. Your confusion grew when you realized that you were suddenly gently lifted in someone’s arms. Perplexed, you looked up and made eye contact with warm brown ones.

When did he catch me? you silently thought to yourself, and you figured the concussion was a lot more serious than you had previously thought.

“You with me?” Spike softly mumbled your name, and you noticed the concern clouding his eyes. You suddenly realized how close your faces were.

“Concussion,” you quickly responded and you internally slapped yourself at the stupid response, “I, uh. I have one.”

Spike’s face broke out into his typical shit-eating grin, and you felt yourself lighten at the familiar expression.

“You’re cute,” he casually spoke. Spike’s smile widened at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks.

Just then, a particularly relentless gust of cold air blew through the ally, and you unknowingly shivered. You boldly cradled yourself further into Spike’s broad chest, and his smile dropped upon remembering your current situation.

“Faye,” he snapped into the earpiece as he angled his face slightly away from you, “thank you for taking your sweet time.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, jackass. I’m almost there.”

Your shivering worsened, as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms, legs, midriff, and cleavage. Softly shifting your body so that you were comfortably held up with his one arm, Spike quickly pulled off his jacket with his free arm, and moved you so that he could hold you with his other arm as he completely took off his jacket. You hadn’t noticed, mainly due to the softness of his almost imperceptible actions, and so you were completely surprised when you suddenly felt a warm blanket cover your entire body.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized that it smelled way too good to be a blanket. You looked down at the familiar navy blue jacket that dwarfed your entire body, and you looked up into amused brown eyes. 

His yellow shirt was casually rolled up at the sleeves, and the button-up was tightly fitted across his lean yet muscular figure. His arms flexed underneath your weight, and you relished in the feeling of his warm arms caressing the bare skin of your own legs and arms as he held you bridal style in the dark alley. Your stomach erupted into butterflies as the weight and intimacy of the situation set in. You were brought out of your thoughts when you realized he had caught you subtly checking him out again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you huffed as a wayward strand of your silky hair landed on your forehead.

“Why would I be laughing at you, pretty girl?” he mumbled, a smile dancing on his lips.

His lips.

They were so close to your own, and you were once again filled with the insatiable urge to kiss him. You blinked quickly at the thought. Your concussion must have been doing a real number on you.

Your internal confliction grew stronger with each passing second. A large, large part of you wanted to close the distance between you two and finally kiss Spike, consequences be damned. But the small, louder part of you was terrified. You were terrified of rejection, of your insecurities coming to light, of being just another meaningless fling to Spike. Your thoughts grew cloudier, and you were overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep.

Your eyes grew heavy, and your head began to loll against his broad chest. Noticing this, Spike’s smile dropped once again and he began to silently curse Faye and her damned time management skills. He hurriedly mumbled your name, his distress clearly evident in his deep voice.

“C’mon now don’t go falling asleep with a concussion,” he teased, and some of his worry for you was quelled when he heard your quiet, breathy laughter in response, “Careful, doc, looks like I’m doing your job for you.”

Your smile widened upon his teasing remark, mocking your words from earlier, and you rolled your eyes in response. “Smartass.”

“Never said otherwise.”

Once again, his lips were just the right distance from your own, and you felt an instant surge of confidence. You swallowed, and squashed every single worry and fear you had, reasoning that this was Spike, your Spike, and he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“There is... there is one thing you can do to help the concussion,” you shyly said, your cheeks burning brighter than the red neon sign that loomed over you two.

Spike’s eyes widened and his face turned serious and desperate as he nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Butterflies erupted once again upon noticing how prepared he was to help you, and you smiled up in pure adoration at the tall man. Your eyes quickly darted to his lips then back up to those enchanting eyes. 

“You have to come closer.”

Spike blinked once. A second time. And then he smiled softly at you. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and you swore his cheeks held the faintest of blushes. He leaned in closer. 

“This close?” he knowingly teased, an encouraging lilt to his soft tone.

“Closer.” 

You swore you could feel your heart in your throat as it sporadically beat faster the closer he came. His face was now right in front of yours, and you nervously swallowed. You licked your lips, and he looked down at them, mesmerized with the action.

“How’s this?” he smiled up at you, his usual playful smile on his handsome face.

“Spike,” you half moaned and half whined, frustrated with having him so close, yet not being able to finally get what you want.

His breath hitched at the sweet sound of you moaning his name, and he couldn’t help it before he leaned in slowly and met your soft lips. You closed your eyes and relished in the ecstatic feeling. The kiss itself wasn’t very long, yet everything about it was already burned into your brain. Your lips molded against his for a few more seconds before you softly pulled away and let out a dreamy sigh.

Your nerves attempted to get the better of you, yet you surprisingly felt reassured in your feelings for Spike. You silently looked up at him, but he was already looking down at you with nothing but warmth and fondness on his face. He softly reached down and tucked the wayward strand of hair behind your ear, before softly caressing your cheek. You leaned your face into his warm palm as you closed your eyes once more, and he felt his heart ache sweetly.

“You really should get concussions more often,” Spike cheekily said.

“Shut up,” you responded as you closed your eyes again to nuzzle your face into his chest. There was no heat in your response, and Spike couldn’t help but silently admire you. 

He moved closer to you and gently kissed your forehead before straightening himself up. He tucked you closer into his chest and tightened his jacket around your figure.

Somehow, you weren’t as cold anymore.

“About damn time.”

Your eyes opened, and you mustered up as bright a smile as you could at your friend. 

“Faye!”

An unamused expression donned Spike’s face, and he turned around to pointedly glare at Faye. “I could say the same thing to you. What, you saw a mirror on your way here?”

Faye had restrained the suspect at this point, her heeled shoes digging into his back as a way to alleviate the anger she felt at the man for what he did to you. She looked up and genuinely smiled at Spike, adjusting her coat. 

“Jab all you want, Spike, but thanks to you, I won the little bet I had going on with Jet!”

Faye’s amusement grew when she saw your smile drop and Spike’s glare turn into a lofty smile almost simultaneously. You looked up at Spike, yet you flinched at the sudden movement, as the pounding in your head worsened. Concern washed over Spike, yet you shook your head in reassurance, before continuing. 

“Spike— the earpiece!”

“You just had to make a move now,” Spike mockingly chided, though you knew he wasn’t as bothered as you were.

“Concussion!” you reminded him, and he cooed at the pout you gave him as his gaze softened.

You gulped before guiltily mumbling Jet’s name. “…Jet?”

“Two bonsai trees, you hear me? You owe me two bonsai trees now.”

[chil2de]

Hii! It's me again, the "teasing mom's broyfriend" anon. I just- you about killed me with that sequel. Hot doesn't even begin to describe it, really 🥵🥵

I have more :))

------------------------

Megumi knows. He knows what a slut you are, knows you've been fucking his father behind his and your mom's back. He knows you only got with him to provoque his father. He knows all of that. And yet, he can't let go of you. He won't do his father this favour.

He avoids going to your mom's house with you as best he can, bc he just can't stand the two of you doing this to her, the poor woman doesn't deserve it. He never touches you when you come back from your mom's, bc he just knows you've been with him. There is, however, an exception. The only thing that can make him help you tease his dad is when they fight.

When it happens, Megumi goes visit your mom with you, and whenever she can't see it, he makes it a point to touch you a little more than would be appropriate in front of Toji. The mix of Megumi's hands all over you and Toji's warning glare could probably make you cum right then and there. Once, when your mom was out doing grocery shopping and Toji stayed behind with the two of you, Megs was all to eager to fuck you, make you scream his name, all for Toji's benefit.

Oh, you do so love it when they fight. You know you should hope for peace and harmony between father and son, but you have much more fun when they are at each other's throat.

You wonder what you would have to do to have both of them filling you up at the same time...

ugh okay sorry if this post is just a massive wall of text i had to cut down on spacing because i kept reaching tumblr’s limit on characters, and uh... incase you couldn’t tell, shit’s about to get serious if i wrote this much LOL this probably looks so clunkyyy :(( i apologise but i have like a line left or two? so i’ll compress everything by saying a massive thank you because this would not have been possible without your sexy ass intellect. i was seriouly fucking dying writing this, it might be the first or second piece i’m genuinely proud of and i thank you :) i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it

this piece makes sense as a standalone, but works a lot better if you read the previous piece! read my disclaimer here if you’re new <3

w.c: 2.8k / characters: 15k (incl spaces) and a special thank you to my beloved anonie. couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

day and night: two.

your bedroom door shuts with a quiet ring. you can only slump down against it, knees held into your chest. your thighs are still quivering like a poor little lamb.

as you move to type out a text for megumi to not come over, there’s a faint knock at the window. your heart burns, throat clogged and knees weak.

you don’t know if you can get up. hell, you don’t know if you should get up. there’s another few delicate rips against the glass and you manage to stumble over in fear of attracting toji’s attention.

“megumi?!” you mouth his name in alarm, dismay crawling onto your features.

your boyfriend gives you a dead once over, noting your matted hair, smeared mascara and weak posture.

of course he knows.

you can discern it clearly from the way he refuses to meet your gaze.

“can you just let me in?” he whispers, tone flat as his index motions over to the lock of the window.

you don’t know what to do.

after all, you’ve still got toji’s cum flowing inside you from earlier.

you fumble backwards, moving to allow his lanky figure to slip inside. megumi manages to hoist his leg up and over, squeezing inside with ease. he closes the window shut behind him, pulling the curtains.

“m-megumi? what are you doing he-“

he doesn’t have time to waste.

megumi knocks the wind out of your lungs as his cold hands seize the sides of your head, stealing your lips for a kiss. he tugs at your bottom lip, tongue drinking you in for a couple of moments like you’re the last meal he’ll ever eat.

“shit.” he hisses, pulling his face back and screwing his eyebrows in mutiny.

oh, but if you didn’t love the way he looked at you like you were pure filth.

“you taste like him. it’s disgusting.” he spits, wiping his delicate lips with the back of his hand.

he knew, but there was always a part of him that wished you wouldn’t submit yourself to the likes of toji. he just had to see it for himself.

“come on, megumi-chan~ thats no way to talk to your girlfriend, is it?

your mother doesn’t deserve this. megumi doesn’t deserve the heartache, either.

megumi can’t see anything but the spitting image of his father all over your body, licking and fondling all the same crevices that he has. but he can’t get enough of you. he can’t stop, can’t turn away from you. he knows that at the end of the day you're spoon-feeding him phrases he wants to hear.

but you’re so good to him.

your pussy fits him like a glove. your hand intertwines with his perfectly. your head is the perfect size to cuddle onto his chest.

there’s something about you that makes you more addicting than nicotine.

bony and slender fingertips ghost over your thighs. you can’t help the squeak that hiccups from you. megumi raises an eyebrow in scepticism before flipping the hem of your miniskirt up.

he scoffs, slicking his long middle finger against your hot cunt.

“don’t hold it in.” he reprimands you, flashing a grimace as you squabble with him.

“b-but toji-“

“but what? am i not good enough for you?”

you swallow thickly, chanting a small prayer before allowing toji’s cum to drip out of your pussy. you shiver, goosebumps licking your skin when you can feel the warmth of his seed ooze and coat your soft thighs. you can’t avoid the burn of megumi’s regard as he watches the cum slowly flow out of you.

he’ll make you want him.

megumi can’t fully comprehend why you keep running back to his father instead of him, why you choose toji over him. like father like son, it evokes a bubble of magma in the form of competition and jealousy.

he’ll make you beg for him. that’s for sure.

“get on the bed.” he whispers, tone cold and even. there’s no warmth to his voice, even with his usual monotonous tendencies you can tell you struck a nerve. it makes your stomach churn, butterflies swooping in and adorning your vital organs.

like a moth drawn to a flame, as though you have no mind of your own, you step backwards until the back of your knees kiss the metal frame of your bed. megumi towers over you, pushing you backwards as he crawls in between your thighs.

the crisp ring of his zipper sliding down clashes against the room. why should he undress himself properly for the likes of someone like you?

“there’s no point in prepping you. i think you know that.” megumi sighs, relieving his twitching cock from the confines of his painfully tight boxers.

you can feel the avarice swirl in your abdomen, cold fear stilling in your veins at the mere thought that you could get caught by toji at any second. it makes your fingertips tingle and stomach churn. when you wail a needy whimper, megumi only shakes his head before plastering his icy cool hand against your wet lips.

a part of megumi wants to let all hell break loose. if he allows you to moan as you please, it won’t be just toji hearing your cries of ecstasy. knowing your mother, perhaps she’d be a little glad to know that your boyfriend is meeting your needs sufficiently. whereas toji?

it puts him in a predicament. from a bystanders point of view, toji has no right to storm in here and to shriek at megumi for blowing your brains out.

why?

because he’s not your dad.

he’s not a paternal figure in your life. there’s no right for him to say what you can and cannot do. he won’t hold that kind of reign over you like your mother does. and megumi likes that. he relishes the idea of toji being forced to listen to you babble megumi’s name, to mewl and cry for him to hit it deeper whilst he can’t do anything but complain.

it’s not like you haven’t heard your mother with other men plenty of times. it’s only natural, right? hell, she’ll probably gossip with you about it.

a carnal desire glosses over megumi’s steel blue gaze. like a wolf waiting to pounce onto a hare. he can see the way your thighs squeeze, how you gulp before him with those doe eyes of yours. you’re practically purring underneath him. for once, megumi gathers the reasoning to understand why his father finds you so intriguing. there’s nothing better than having your own toy melt and oblige under every command.

your boyfriend’s hand finds its way to your chest, where he rests the palm flat underneath your breasts. he steadies himself, using you as leverage as he guides his dick through the cum stained mess of your cunt. your heart pounds in anticipation, drool coating the back of your tongue as your pussy throbs around him. he manages to fit his tip in, dragging the enlarged and sensitive muscle against your walls. your ankles flutter around megumi’s waist, lower body strength trembling as you attempt to pull him in further.

“m-megs- please..”

“what?” he screws his eyebrows, staring you down. you can’t find the words in you to plead for him.

“what the hell? why act all coy now?“

“that’s not how we do things around here, is it? so spit it out. i won’t get what you’re trying to say otherwise.”

megumi slips his dick out, grinding against your clit as his torso flushes against yours. he pulls you in for a quick kiss, enough to relinquish his appetite, but not enough to taste the filth that corrupts your sweet and innocent lips.

“those cute little whines of yours won’t help you, either.” his breath flickers against your skin, sticky tongue licking trails as he works to mark up your neck. you can feel the tears prick your eyes already. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, how it throbs against your cunt and the droplets of perspiration trickling along your skin. you can feel megumi’s pulse heavy against your clit, the way his dick twitches as he smears the tip through the folds of your slick. it’s slowly driving him insane. but that’s okay. even through the static that bounces around in his skull- he knows that you hate it more.

after all, your boyfriend knows best.

your fingernails soar around to megumi’s back. you want to scratch him, but you can’t access his toned skin through the layers of his jacket. instead, you’re left fumbling and scrunching the fabric like a feline with an insatiable desire to itch its claws.

“megumi- please, it’s too much-“ you huff through laboured breaths, peering up at him through tear stained eyelashes.

it’s almost enough to make him melt. almost.

“what is?”

“this?”

he shifts himself back up, grabbing his dick and slipping only the tip in once more. he allows you a few centimetres extra before dipping back out and repeating the process again. megumi’s gaze locks with yours, as though he’s asking ‘is this what you want?’

“s-stop teasing me.. just put it in alreadyy~” you choke out a groan of frustration, ready to slam your hips down onto the full length of his shaft.

“why should i?”

“megumi, i swear to god- if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“-or what? you’ll go to my dad? good luck, when you couldn’t even fulfill your duties as being his toy.”

so fucking humiliating.

the way megumi instantly stands up and proceeds to stuff his still hard and leaking dick back into his boxers.

he’ll deal with it later.

you’re left stuttering, unable to form any coherent words, thoughts or insults to spew back at him. legs wide open, cunt empty and glistening in the blue tint of the moonlight.

he leans over, swiping some of your excess drool with his thumb before dipping it into your mouth. he half expects you to lick at his thumb, convince him to stay a little longer, but his skin sits in your mouth like a forgotten thermometer for a couple of seconds.

“if only you could see your face right now.” he hums, tone flat with a certain mockery.

sometimes, as the days pass, you can notice his resemblance growing closer and closer to toji.

-

the following day

you haven’t left the quarters of your room for the entire day. you’re stuck in bed, face mushed into the confines of your pillow. you’ve always held high regards of the fact that your libido isn’t necessarily extremely high, but when you’re promised dick just to be neglected of it? shit feels like you’re in heat. you can’t go to toji, because you’re mother’s home. not only that, but he’d be sure to teach you one of his lessons. you’re already shivering thinking of the conversation with him, how you’d even try to dig out of that hole you were already so deep in.

you can’t call megumi either… at least not for now. you sigh wistfully into the pillow, kicking your legs about on your bed as you hiss a groan of turmoil.

there’s a sudden knock at the door that snaps you out of your haze. it leaves you pumped, blood coursing through your veins and you shoot up like an attentive little puppy about to be taken for a walk.

“it’s open!” you clear your throat, humming.

the disappointment rocks your features so clearly that it’s embarrassing. it’s just your mother.

“you okay? thought you died in here, baby. lunch is ready, and your lovely megumi-kun came to say hello.”

what?

“megumi? that’s nice. did he leave a message or anything? like he just dropped by to say hello or-“

“hm? oh, no. he’s having lunch with us.”

“is everything okay, dear?”

“yeah! yeah, i’m good. sorry, i spaced out a little bit. small headache, that’s all. i’ll change clothes and i’ll come out to eat.” you dismiss your mother, keeping in the hyperventilation you’re about to undergo. she gives you a small glance of concern before returning to the dining room to serve her guests.

“(y/n)! we were just talking about you!” your mother hums, gifting you a smile of warmth and radiance as she pours drinks into some cups.

you can feel toji’s mocking stare dig holes into your skin.

you can fucking feel it.

you can imagine him saying it.

“slut.”

at the six chaired table, you scurry to sit the furthest away from megumi and toji. your mother shoots you a sideways glance, motioning for the seat between toji and megumi. you swallow thickly, awkwardly striding over to take a seat.

your knee accidentally knocks into toji’s and you instantly utter an apology.

“you should be.” he mutters underneath his breath, disguising the words as a sigh.

“so? you said you were talking about me?” you straighten yourself, perking up a semblance of cheerfulness and perfect innocence.

“oh, right! toji was just telling me how stuffed you were yesterday!”

your lids flicker in shock and you abruptly stare at toji, whose half lidded jade green eyes slowly land on yours before locking to meet your attention for a few seconds.

“sorry, what?” you stutter, finding it difficult to believe the situation.

“you know, the food? are you sure you’re alright, honey? you’ve been acting strange since this morning.”

“i’m fine, i swear. just some painkillers would be nice.”

when your mother turns around to rummage for some painkillers, she emits a squeak of alarm at the lack of them.

please. you’ll do anything to get out of this predicament.

“are we out? i can go grab some-“

“-no, that’s okay. i’ll head out. i need to grab a few extra things for dinner anyway. you three, make nice with each other!”

sure.

when the door shuts, you realise you’re out of options.

you can’t run away.

“so, megumi. how’s eating up after my leftovers feel?”

“leftovers? because one woman wasn’t enough for you?” megumi scoffs, averting his gaze.

“it’s not my problem that your woman came running to me. doesn’t that say something about you?”

“like what?”

“like, you can’t fuck her properly?”

“i can’t fuck her properly? but you’re telling her to keep your cum inside her? don’t you care what’ll happen if she gets pregnant?”

“see, megumi. she’s on birth control. you didn’t know that? and besides, if i didn’t know any better-“

toji finally allows you his undivided attention, staring right through to your soul.

“-i’d think your little girlfriend here likes walking around with my cum inside her.”

you’d be able to run a butter knife through the tension hanging in the air. the room holds its breath, and as do you in compliment of trying not to set things off into a piping hot mess.

“isn’t that right-“

“-princess?”

your fight or flight response kicks in at the malicious tone that coats toji’s tongue. you swallow thickly, throat parched and lips cracked.

but fuck.

if it isn’t the most arousing thing- the two of them squabbling over you.

toji screws his face at you, features lighting in a mix of awe and delight.

“really? you’re seriously enjoying this?” toji hums with mockery, eyebrows perking at your unusual behaviour. he can smell the sweet nectar of your arousal slicking against your underwear.

you abruptly stand up, ready to leave.

megumi’s hand curls around your wrist. he slings your hand behind your back, slamming you over the table. some silverware and plates clatter and dash against the hardwood floor.

“answer the question, (y/n).” he hisses.

you whimper a soft whine. there’s no way you’re answering that.

“get your fucking hands off of her.” toji barks, kicking his chair back.

“try me.”

something washes over you. a premonition, say. that if you don’t speak up, someone will end up seriously injured.

“i can’t choose between you two. i just can’t. so i think it’s the best option if we just stop this completely.” you sigh, prying megumi off of you. his stance relaxes and you wince at the pain in your spine. you rub your wrists in slight agony, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

“it’s been fun, but i think it’s time to draw the line-“

“no.” toji remarks offhandedly.

“huh?” you contort your face in offence. there’s something thick on megumi’s face, too. it almost looks like determination?

“i said no.” toji reiterates, taking a stride towards you.

his index and thumb caress your chin, tilting your jaw up to look at him.

“i don’t care how long it takes. whether it’s me or him-“

“-i’m making you choose.”