#bc I won’t for the fall semester I want off I think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 4 years ago

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ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates.

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens.

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class.

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him.

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all.

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly.

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months.

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got.

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career.

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course.

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.”

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you.

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.)

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side.

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly.

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil.

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester.

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness.

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you.

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face.

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!”

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things.

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone.

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought.

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you.

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news.

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward.

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason.

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away.

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom.

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same.

Apparently not.

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed.

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile.

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.”

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck.

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot.

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi.

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.”

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face.

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments.

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.”

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.”

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character.

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester.

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right.

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile. He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.”

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?”

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh.

This man was dangerous for your heart.

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.”

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you.

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well.

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook.

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

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seongsangi · 4 years ago

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your girl calls me daddy too

pairing: johnny x reader

summary: the story of getting involved with your professor/classmate's dad 👀

word count: 4.5k

warnings: professor!johnny, dilf!johnny, daddy/sir kink, age gap bc johnny is older in this fic (reader is 21+, we dont do that barely legal just turned 18 shit) straight up smut, that's all we do on this blog

author's note: this took me from 8 pm to 4 am to write. idk if that's fast or not compared to some people but bitch... that's a record for me!

another note: idk if anyone's wondering but johnny is a single dad in this, no cheating or infidelity involved!

No one knows about your relationship with Johnny Suh, certainly not your family or friends, and certainly not his son who is in the same biology course as you this semester. The secret is kept strictly between the two of you, the thrill of hiding it making it that much more exciting.

The relationship began with him being your chemistry professor. The brief glances, lingering touches, and frequent visits during office hours became too much for either of you to deny the attraction. It felt so wrong, the professor-student affair being too much of a cliché that you were hesitant to follow through with it. But after a particular session discussing the assigned homework, you both realized it was now too late to go back.

***********************************************

“Professor, why are you looking at me like that?” you fiddle with your pen in your hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little distracted.” Mr. Suh lets his eyes trail down your figure, eyeing the neckline of your dress that reveals just enough to get his imagination going. He’s thinking about the way you waltzed in here with that damn sundress on, the way you bite your lip when you’re confused on a reaction mechanism, the way your innocent eyes look up at him when he’s explaining the concept. He feels foolish, unable to focus on your question when you’re sitting across from him looking like that, the dress hugging your figure in all the right ways.

“Should I come back another time?”

Mr. Suh clears his throat, giving you another glance up and down before collecting himself. “No, no, I promise I’m fine. Let me check your work right quick.” You hand him the paper, watching as he leans back in his chair examining the mechanism you drew. You let your eyes do the same thing to him as he did to you, taking in the long sleeve black shirt he wore today that hugs his biceps almost too well. It has your hands itching to feel them under your fingers, to take the shirt off and see him in all his glory. Your eyes roam his face, the sharp features drawing you in. You imagine his plump lips doing things to your body that are sure to take your breath away.

He does not fail to notice your lingering stare, or the way you’re fidgeting in your chair. He pulls the sleeves of his shirt up his forearm and grabs his pen, leaning in to show you where you went wrong. As he’s explaining, you lean in too, your perfume filling his senses. You can’t seem to focus on what he’s saying, too busy tracing the veins along his arms and hands. Oh, how they would feel wrapped around your – okay, bitch you have got to chill.

“Miss Y/N, is something the matter?” The way your name rolls off his tongue has you swooning, the added ‘miss’ making your tummy flutter.

You feel your body temperature rising with each second, fiddling with your hands in your lap, your mind going crazy with impure thoughts. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “Uh, I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Mr. Suh notices your attention is elsewhere, setting his pen down and looking you directly in the eye, making you feel tiny under his intense gaze.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game.”

The statement catches you off guard, your cheeks immediately getting hot. “I- I don’t know, wha- what do you mean?” you stutter, which he finds endearing seeing you all flushed.

“Let’s not act like we don’t know where your mind is at,” he sees right through you. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m right there with you.” His voice drops a couple octaves, sending a wave of arousal through you at the sound of it. Oh fuck, is this really happening right now?

Your breath gets caught in your throat, unable to respond. What the fuck do you even say to that? Mr. Suh gets out of his chair, his long legs coming around the desk and standing in front of you. He leans down real close to your face, bracing himself on the arm rests of the chair you’re in, effectively caging you in. If you thought you were getting warm before, you’re on the verge of burning up now. He’s smirking down at you, enjoying just how riled up you’re getting.

“Are you gonna tell me you haven’t been thinking of things other than chemistry during our meeting?” He cocks his head to the side, challenging you with a tease in his words.

“Um, professor, I don’t think we should be doing this…” you trail, glancing at the closed door behind you. His face is too close for comfort, looking anywhere but at him.

“Then tell me to stop,” his lips now ghosting your neck, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. He’s watching your chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. Every fiber in your being is telling you this is wrong on so many levels, but it’s making your body tingle in a way you can’t ignore. You’ve been thinking about him and it’s obvious he has been too, what’s stopping you from going further? You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find any words to say, nothing to let him know you don’t want this.

“You have to tell me you want it then,” he pulls back from you slightly, waiting for your confirmation. If you don’t explicitly say yes, then he won’t push it any further.

You can’t take this any more, sitting up straight and saying “I want it” in one breath before crashing your lips against his. There’s no taking this back, you tell yourself as you let him take control. You sigh into the kiss, his lips feel so right against yours, letting the lust cloud your mind. He cups the side of your face, pulling you up by your waist to get a better angle to devour your lips. His hips push you against the desk, lifting you slightly to sit on the edge. Your hands bunch up his shirt, pulling him even closer to you. He bites your bottom lip as he pulls away, searching your face for any sign of regret. Instead, he’s met with your blown out expression, needy eyes asking for more.

Mr. Suh shakes his head in disbelief, almost chuckling. “You don’t know what you do to me, miss Y/N.” You love it when he calls you that. He steps back, turning around to lock the door. The sound of the lock only fuels your excitement, eager to see what he’ll do next. Your hands grip the edge of the desk as Mr. Suh stalks towards you, like a predator eyeing his prey. Oh, how you want him to eat you up right now. Your thighs press together at the thought, a movement he quickly notices.

His hands trail up the side of your thighs before resting on the curve of your ass. The fabric is soft to the touch but he bets your skin is softer. “What are you thinking of, you naughty girl?” His lips are back on you, letting your head fall to the side as he peppers kisses along your neck. “Just thinking about you,” you pant.

“I know that much. What do you want me to do, hmm?” he presses further.

“Anything you want,” falling further under his spell. He groans in your ear, ready and willing to take advantage of your submission. It’s more like you’ve got him under your spell. He knows this is wrong on a professional level, but fuck that right now.

“Turn around,” twisting your body before you can even do it yourself. His touch makes you so dizzy, bracing your hands on the homework assignment that has long been forgotten. He kisses your shoulder, pressing close to your backside as he admires you from behind, the dress doing wonders to accentuate your curves.

“You look so good in this dress doll,” kneading your ass in his hands. He gives it a tame slap, not wanting to be too rough since there are still other offices around his. “But I bet you’d look even better with it off.” The wetness in your panties is becoming unbearable, desperate for him to touch you where you need him.

“Touch me please,” your sweet voice begging him is more than enough for him to comply. He bunches your dress up over your waist to expose your soft skin, the thin panties you’re wearing showcasing your wet spot off clearly. His pants are getting incredibly tight, blood rushing to his member with each second. He lifts your right knee to rest it on the desk, trailing his fingers over the thin fabric.

“Right here?” he slides his fingers up and down your center, earning a shudder from you.

“Or here?” pulling your panties to the side and coating his fingers in your arousal. You let out an audible moan when he finds your clit, which prompts him to clamp his hand over your mouth. He cranes your head back to look you in your eyes, his hand still rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

“You’ll have to be quiet or else I’ll stop. Can’t have anyone around us hearing you.” You nod in understanding, eyes fluttering shut as two of his fingers slide into you with ease. You arch your back a bit more, pushing your hips further into his hand. It’s a good thing his hand is still covering your mouth because you can’t help your moans when his fingers are drilling into you so fast.

“You’re taking my fingers so well doll,” he’s gonna drive you insane with that nickname. You turn your head to get a better look at him, watching him part his lips as he watches his fingers disappear in and out of your core.

He slides a third finger in and you want to scream, the stretch makes you feel so full. You’re soaked now, the lewd sounds of your wetness making you feel self-conscious. Just then, his office phone rings. You gasp, looking at him with wide eyes. He lets go of your mouth but doesn’t pull his fingers out of you, pumping them in even as he reaches for the phone. You try to stay as quiet as you can with his fingers still working your core.

“Hello, this is Johnny Suh.” He looks you dead in the eye, telling you you better shut up without verbally saying anything.

“Ah, Jaehyun, what can I do for you?” Your legs buckle when he hits that spot, almost letting out a yelp. He shoots you another glare, pulling his fingers out and shoving them in your mouth to keep you quiet. He sets the phone down for a second, leaning in to your ear. “Play with yourself while I take this call. And shut up, I mean it.”

You can taste yourself on his fingers, the whole thing making you feel so filthy. Your hand reaches down to your core, rubbing yourself slowly as Mr. Suh picks the phone up again. You lick him clean, getting your own fingers wet now with your slick. He’s listening to the other person on the line but paying close attention to your hand in between your thighs. He likes watching you play with yourself, getting off on the thought of him.

“Okay, all that sounds great. Send me an email of the template and I’ll check it out. I’m with a student right now, so can I call you back later?”

When he finally gets off the phone, he shoves his fingers further into your mouth, almost making you choke on them. “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet? You couldn’t even do that?” You’re so worked up, you can feel your high approaching and you just want him to help you reach it.

You grab his wrist, pulling his fingers out of your mouth. “I’m so close,” bringing his hand back to your core.

“You want to cum? Beg for it,” he doesn’t make a move to touch you.

“Please sir, I wanna cum on your fingers, please please.” You stroke his arm gently, pleading with your eyes, anything for him to touch you again. How could he say no when you’re looking at him like that?

He tells you to turn around to face him, holding your leg against his waist. He watches your face contort in pleasure as he gives you what you want, rubbing yourself at the same time to chase your high. You try to keep your voice to a minimum, your sweet moans fueling him on. If his fingers feel this good in you, you can’t even imagine what else he’s got in store for you.

“Fuuuck, sir I’m cumming,” you cry weakly, closing your eyes and clenching around his fingers as you finally get that release. The sight of you coming undone on his hand is almost enough to take you right then and there, but he holds himself back. Your hand grips his wrist tightly, but he doesn’t stop pumping in and out of you until you open your eyes, worried he’s gonna try to get another one out of you so soon.

He finally stops, taking the chance to taste yourself by licking his own fingers clean. God, you thought sucking his fingers was hot, this is even better. He loves the taste of you, already craving more. Mr. Suh runs his hand along your inner thighs, taking a mental image of the sight of you spread open for him on his desk.

“Miss Y/N, I think it’s safe to say that we should keep this a secret between us.”

***********************************************

And that’s how your intimate relationship with your professor began. You’ve been in his office so many times after that, you’ve lost count, letting him take you on every inch of that desk. Before, during, and after office hours, you both crave each other’s touch. You know to keep your time together to a minimum though. You can’t be coming into his office whenever you want, or else it would start to get suspicious. Sometimes you catch yourself stealing glances at his son in biology class, wondering if he has even the slightest idea of what’s going on between you and Mr. Suh.

One day, when he’s at the front of the class teaching, all you can think about is his lips on you as he takes you from behind, whispering in your ear how dirty you are for letting him fuck you before class started. By the end of class, he passes the homework back out. You see a note written in red at the bottom of your paper.

127 Paradise Lane tomorrow 7 pm

It doesn’t take a genius to know what that means or what it entails. You quickly put your homework in your backpack before any curious eyes can see what’s written on it. You look up to see him steal a glance at you, making sure you got his note. Neither of you say anything as you walk out of class.

***********************************************

When you get to his house the next night, he welcomes you in with a warm smile, which quickly turns devious as he shoves you against the door immediately after closing it, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You grab hold of his shirt as his hands roam your body, pulling him as close as you can. His hard bulge presses against your stomach, thoughts already wandering to how mind blowing his impressive length will feel in you. You want him, but one questions prods at your mind, pulling away from his lips slightly.

“Sir, what about your son? Is he gonna be home tonight?” You feel weird in your classmate’s house, but the fact that you’re about to fuck his dad as you’ve done plenty of times before is more overwhelming than your qualms about being here.

“He’s out of town with his friends,” running his hand up your back before grabbing your hair, pulling your head back so fast it surprises you. His breath is warm against your lips, “And when you’re in my house, it’s daddy.” You’re so used to calling him sir, knowing it turns him on but the new name in this new setting makes your insides tingle. You can’t hold back your smile, giving him your best “yes, daddy” to appease him.

Mr. Suh leads you to his bedroom, the king sized bed hitting your back as he throws you down. He towers over you, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. You sit up on your elbows, rubbing your thighs together as you eat up the man before you with your eyes. With each button that comes undone, you get more and more excited. He’s watching you intently, thinking of all the ways he’s going to ruin you tonight. He looks delectable with his shirt off, licking your lips at the sight of his well built figure.

“You’re gonna start drooling soon,” he teases, walking to his closet and pulling out one of his many ties. Whatever he’s thinking of doing with that, you have absolutely no complaints. You bite your lip in anticipation as he kneels on the bed, securing the tie around your neck into a makeshift collar. “Is this okay with you?”

You nod your head, but he pulls on the tie quickly, taking your breath away. “Use your words.”

“Yes, it’s ok,” you choke out. He doesn’t let up, asking instead, “Yes what?”

You’re gushing already, the control he has over you making your head spin. “Yes daddy,” you can barely get the two words out. He lets the tie go slack, coughing a bit at the sudden attack. His hand cups your face, “Sorry was that too much?” You nuzzle your cheek into his hand, telling him you loved it.

And that’s what he loves about you, that you take anything he gives you and enjoy every bit of it. You’re too much for him. He sits with his back against the headboard, tugging your arm to straddle him. “Did you wear this little dress for me?” his hands are sliding up and down your thighs, bringing out the goosebumps on your skin. You brace your hands on his chest, moving your hips against his jeans. The friction against your clit is oh so good and feels even better when he flexes his thigh after seeing your movements.

“You should see what I’m wearing underneath,” tugging the hem of your dress over your body, revealing your choice in white lingerie underneath, the color making you look angelic but is a stark contrast to the sinful things that are about to happen.

“Miss Y/N, what am I gonna do with you?” he asks as you pick up the pace of your hips, leaning down to press your lips to his neck. He lets you do what you want to him, encouraging your hips to move faster. Your small whimpers in his ear tell him you’re enjoying yourself, using his thigh to get off. You know not to leave any visible marks, opting for further down his chest to leave hickeys. His jeans feel so good against your core, finding more pleasure in riding his thigh than you thought, but it’s still not enough. “Want you to fuck me,” you moan breathlessly, pushing your chest into his face as you find that perfect spot to keep grinding against.

He hungrily pulls your bra down, attaching his lips to your hard nipple as he rolls the other one between his fingers. Your skin is so soft, he could bury his face in your tits all night. He leaves his own hickeys on your chest, admiring his work as he puts your bra back in place.

“Keep the lingerie on.” He pulls you down by the tie again, kissing you fervently as you fumble with his jeans. You get down on your knees, taking his clothes off so that he’s naked before you. His rock-hard member slaps against his stomach when you pull his pants off. You flatten your tongue against his member, locking eyes with him as you lick him from the base to the tip. You take him in your mouth, using your hands to fondle his balls to add to his pleasure. Using your tongue as much as you can to get him wet, you take him as far as your throat allows.

“You look so good with my dick in your mouth,” grabbing your hair and bobbing your head up and down on him. You let him use your mouth, parting his lips at the feeling of your warm tongue. When he lets go of your hair, you release him with a pop, sliding your hand along his length. “I bet I look even better with it in m—” you can’t even finish your sentence as he grabs you by the chin, shutting you up.

“I knew you’d say some shit like that. Why don’t you be a good girl and come ride this dick then?” He shoves your face away, but the roughness only turns you on even more. You straddle his hips, his hand pulling your lace panties to the side as you position him at your entrance. Both of you gasp as you sink down on him, the stretch quickly filling you up, your tight walls clamping against him.

“Fuck daddy, feels so good,” you whine. When he’s all the way in, you lean back on your hands in the cowgirl position, giving him the best view of where your bodies are connected. You feel so exposed in this position, but he can’t keep his eyes off your core as you move your hips, which makes you feel powerful under his glare. You know he loves it just as much as you do, giving him a show as you ride him.

A thought comes into your head, pulling out but quickly turning around so that your backside is facing him. You slide down on him again, his hands gripping your waist. You can move your hips faster in this position, setting a quick pace and slamming your hips against his. He’s lost in the way your ass bounces on top him. You let out a loud whine when his hand lands a hard slap on your ass cheek.

“I can’t do that when we’re in my office,” he lands another one to the same cheek, “but now I can.” He wants to see you red with his handprints, enjoying your little yelps at the sting. You clench around him each time he spanks you, doing so particularly hard but you can’t deny that you like the pain. By the last spank, your ass is on fire, but his large hands smoothing over them soon makes you forget about the pain.

Suddenly, you’re being yanked back by your hair, thrown on your side as he spoons you. Lifting one of your legs up, he slides into you from behind. The new position introduces a new angle for him to fuck you. “Oh shit, fuck, oh my god,” you can only curse as he abuses your core deliciously. Instead of using the tie, he wraps his hand around your throat to choke you. You grip his forearm, letting him use your body to his content.

“Your pussy is so good baby,” he growls in your ear. “So tight, so wet, I could fuck you all night. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You mumble incoherently as a response, too gone in the pleasure he’s sending throughout your body. You let out a choked scream as his hand that’s holding your leg up finds your sensitive nub, bringing you closer to the edge as he tells you how much he loves fucking you. Your legs shake as the pleasure overwhelms you, but he holds you close to keep you from going too far.

“Don’t run away, I know you can take it doll.”

“Daddy please,” you beg shamelessly but you don’t even know what you’re begging for. You want him to keep ravaging you, but you physically don’t know if you can keep up.

Mr. Suh makes the decision for you, pulling out of you to stand at the edge of the bed. He grabs your ankles, dragging your body towards him. He holds your legs together, pushing them towards your chest. He slides right back in, wasting no time in fucking you again. He loves watching his dick slide in and out of you, loves hearing you moan his name, loves how tight you get for him. You let your legs fall open, sitting up on your elbows to watch him fuck you. There’s something insanely hot about watching you take every inch of him, you can see why he enjoys it so much.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, which makes him grab handfuls of your tits, pinching your nipples. “Baby, can I take a video of you? I won’t get your face in it, you just look so good in this lingerie right now.” You nod, feeling a surge of confidence at his words. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, opening the camera and pressing record. He slows his thrusts, sliding into you slowly to show off how wet you are. The camera pans to your bra, giving them a squeeze for the video. He shoves your hand away, pulling your breasts out of your bra. He tugs on the tie, making sure not to get your face but still showing your makeshift collar off.

Without warning, he speeds his hips up again, earning a cry from you before ending the video and throwing his phone on the bed. He’s so riled up, he just wants to use you to finish. “You gonna cum for me daddy?” God, he loves hearing you beg for him. You sound so sweet saying the dirtiest things. “Cum for me please, I want it so bad, want you to cum in my mouth.”

“Oh shit baby,” he pulls out quickly, grabbing your hair and shoving himself in your mouth, his warm release all on your tongue. You swallow every last drop, sucking him off as he groans at the slight overstimulation.

He takes a second to catch his breath, noticing your not so innocent eyes looking up at him eagerly. A playful smile spreads across your face and he knows that look all too well.

You’re insatiable.

***********************************************

The next semester, you’re moving into a new dorm. Your parents are here to help you move everything in. You notice Mr. Suh’s son moving into the same dorm, looking around for a glimpse of him. He’s carrying a box of things from the car to the front entrance, stopping you for a quick “hello Miss Y/N, how was your break?”

He looks behind you, asking if those are your parents. “Maybe I should say something to them.”

“What are you gonna say?”

“Oh, I don't know, maybe something like: your girl calls me daddy too,” he jokes as you storm off, cheeks flushing red.

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #johnny smut #nct johnny #nct johnny smut

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meltwonu · 4 years ago

Text

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 | [Chapter 1]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, dom!wonwoo, dirty talk, masturbation, sex toys, mentions of sexting/sending photos/videos, baby this has hella plot lmao dkhf 🥴💕 WELCOME TO UNTIL I MET YOU!! THE MINI-SEQUEL TO CAFFEINE! A bit of a shorter chapter but I didn’t want to overload with too much everything in the first chapter, ykwim? 😎 Thank you so much for your patience with this sequel, I know there were a ton of people asking for a sequel for months after I said I would 💕😭😭 As always, inbox roundup tomorrow! And don’t forget, next chapter for UIMY goes up on Feb 26th! T|H ch 1 next Friday! 🥰💕 Enjoy ch 1, have a great weekend and I love you! 💕

chapters; 1 - x - x - x - x

“Mmh… Wonwoo…”

His hands roam all over your naked body; warmth spreading all over when he digs his blunt fingernails into the skin of your waist.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Did you miss me, sweetheart?” His voice is soft, gentle, yet teasing; barely above a whisper as your back bows off of the bed to lean into his simple touches. “I missed you, sweetheart. Missed your ‘lil cunt too.”

A choked sob falls from your lips, followed quickly by rushed, hurried cries for Wonwoo to move faster.

“Don’t you want me to take my time? We haven’t seen each other in months.”

There’s a smirk on his lips, eyes twinkling with mischief when you reply back with a shaky whine. “Don’t you want me to slide my cock into your pretty ‘lil pussy nice ‘n slow? Let you feel every inch of me filling you up, just like it’s the first time all over again.” He stares at you dreamily; fixated on the way your body chases his hands when he drags them down to your thighs. “Or would you prefer it if I fucked you hard and fast? Your cute body squirming and trembling from how good I give it to you and my cock slamming into your tight ‘lil cunt.”

Wonwoo’s fingertips spread your folds as he licks his lips; appreciating how wet you already were for him.

“Bet your toys don’t feel as good as the real thing, huh?”

You shake your head ‘no’ furiously, “N-no, god, no! Wonwoo, p-please!” The male grins down at you, pouting mockingly at your desperate, pleading eyes.

The wetness between your legs is unbearable and the sobs are caught in your throat when Wonwoo leans over you, lips ghosting across your own.

“Okay. Just say--”

You’re shocked awake by your alarm clock; chest heaving in deep breaths as you sit up in your crumpled sheets. “Oh, fuck...” Groaning, your clammy palms reach for the ringing device as you shut it off and sigh.

The clock reads 10:02AM; tired eyes trying to blink away the sleep that threatens to take you back to the dreamland you much preferred. Although, dreaming about Wonwoo was becoming a little bit too common these last few days.

Sighing once more, you move to get out of bed; already finding your panties soaking wet and sticking to you like a second skin when you stand.

“Ugh... Damn it.”

You press the vibrator harder onto your clit; teeth chattering with the pleasure that pours over your body.

“Oh, god, please, p-please…”

Images of Wonwoo dance behind your eyelids; sultry smirks and teasing glances bringing you closer and closer to the edge of an orgasm.

If there was anything that the last few months without Wonwoo taught you, it was that you couldn’t afford to lose him - in more ways than one. And despite his lack of calls or even text messages, you held out in hopes he still felt the same way that you did despite the distance.

You sent him pictures and videos of yourself often; teasing images half naked, toys in hand, and videos crying out his name while you came. And while he took the time to reply to those with praise and adoration, he almost never sent anything back.

When he did, it was always short, clipped replies of how exhausted he was and how he didn’t have much time.

“Ngh, h-harder…” Your toes curl against the bedsheet; phantom feelings of his cock fucking you hard and deep making you cry out in desperation to be filled by his cock.

Your phone rings on the nightstand next to you as you cum - vibrator pressed so hard against your clit that your back bows off of the sheets while your thighs shake uncontrollably.

And for the first time in a long time, it’s an orgasm that feels like it’s worth something.

‘Gyu: hey did wonwoo text u?

‘Gyu: he’s back next monday he said

‘Gyu: idk abt classes tho, might be out of commission for a while bc jetlag

‘Gyu: thinking abt throwing him a party on friday after he comes back...

‘Gyu: u wanna plan with us orrrrr? U got a private party or sth 🥴😏

‘Gyu: lmk

You’re nervous. Shy, even.

After you’d come down from your orgasm and checked your phone, your mind momentarily went blank from shock and the first thing you’d done was text Wonwoo to ask if he was really coming back that soon.

‘Ah, yeah, I was just about to text you. Prof said we can go home early if we wanted since we finished up classes. I’ll see you sometime next week? Jetlag and stuff.’, was all he had said and in your excited state, the only thing you had responded with was an, ‘Okay, great!’, without asking when, where, or what time.

You figured you’d give him some time to readjust instead of bombarding him as soon as he got in. But each second that you knew Wonwoo was home, you found yourself itching to just be in his presence.

You just had to be a little more patient.

Wednesday morning comes and you find yourself skipping your morning class to go to the library.

For studying, you tell yourself.

The male at the receptionist table shoots you a small smile to which you awkwardly smile back before ducking into an empty aisle. All you knew was that it seemed like Wonwoo wasn’t here.

Maybe he’s still at the frat house, you wonder.

Sighing slightly under your breath, you decide that maybe getting some work done would actually help distract you from looking for the male.

You find an empty table, setting your things down before pulling out your phone.

In all honesty, you weren’t even sure why you were being so shy and nervous about contacting Wonwoo, especially when you so unabashedly sent him nudes every few days when he was away.

Although, with how things had been before he left and the prospect of actually dating once he came back from his semester abroad - the butterflies in your stomach had been nonstop with the different scenarios that played out in your head. You’d even gone so far as to plan what happened if Wonwoo had decided he didn’t want to make an attempt at dating you.

“Sweetheart?”

The grip you have on your phone only tightens as you whip your head around to find Wonwoo standing behind your chair and you swear your heart stops beating the same time your breath gets caught in your throat. “H-huh?”

He smiles gently down at you and you can’t help but wonder how long you were spaced out to not notice him there.

“Is this a dream too?” You wonder aloud - Wonwoo chuckling in response as he moves to collect your things for you.

“Have you been dreaming about me that much, sweetheart?” You stutter and stumble over your words; embarrassment eating at you every second that Wonwoo has a knowing smile plastered on his lips.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat since we both know you’re not really here to study.”

The version of Wonwoo that sits across the cafe table is… different.

Not bad, just different.

His arms are much tanner and definitely more muscular and the glasses missing from his face lets you appreciate his eyes even more when they’re not hidden behind the thick frames. He had even opted to wear a sleeveless shirt; something that you weren’t used to when he usually was around campus in long sleeves and sweater vests.

Although, you can’t and won’t deny the way your body reacts to this Wonwoo.

“Hey, I’m talking to you and you’re just spacing out.” Muttering, he leans over the small cafe table until his face is only inches away from yours and the smirk on his lips already lets you know that you’ve been caught staring.

“Listen, I know I’ve been gone for three months but you’re lookin’ at me like you haven’t had a fix in all that time.” Your lips press into an embarrassed firm line, avoiding his stare as he raises a brow at you.

“Wait, you didn’t fuck anyone in the three months I was gone?”

“No… did you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper; a little afraid that his answer will be ‘yes’ when he takes a second longer to respond.

“Nah,” He settles back into his seat, “I told you, didn’t I? I was willing to try the whole… dating, relationship thing with you when I got back. Although, I’m somewhat surprised one of the others didn’t try to seduce you while I was gone.”

You laugh slightly, cheeks warm as Wonwoo teases. “I wouldn’t have given them the time of day anyway.”

Your entire body burns hot, palms clammy in your lap from how giddy you were to be with Wonwoo and it made your heart do backflips knowing that he’d still been willing to try with you.

“Ah, how was it abroad anyway? You… didn’t really say much over the past few months so I feel like I don’t know how you were. Just some messages about how tired you were...” He takes a sip of his coffee; unintentionally making you internally scream when his lips form a pout while he thinks.

“Honestly? Other than the days we were excavating ‘n stuff, it was pretty boring. Really hectic though, and a lot of documenting which meant a lot of paperwork. I swear, I closed my eyes and I saw the inside of my textbooks.” He chuckles lightly, eyes focused on the cup of coffee in front of him.

“I just want to say sorry for my lack of communication. I really didn’t expect to be so busy that I couldn’t even pick up a call.” There’s a genuine apologetic look on Wonwoo’s face when he looks back at you. “And the time difference was really rough too. I didn’t want to take it out on you over the phone if I was stressed about not sleeping or the workload. I know we can get a little rough when we ‘play’ but this wasn’t that and it wouldn’t have been fair.”

Oh.

“T-that’s okay, I understand!” Your heart does somersaults in your chest, “I--thank you for thinking about me too.”

The feelings you have bubbling up inside of you make you feel like you’re falling in love for the first time, all over again. “Um… Sorry I sent so many pictures ‘n stuff.”

Wonwoo laughs, this time throwing his head back slightly before he tries to hide his wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t apologize.” Your eyes meet his and for a split second, you see the familiar dominating look in his eyes before he leans over the small cafe table again.

“I might’ve not had all the time to entertain you those times but I thought about you alllll the time. I missed everything about you.” His voice is barely above a whisper - careful to not let anyone else in the cafe hear the topic of conversation. “Which, by the way��You piqued my interest earlier with your question. You never really answered my question about having dreams about me.”

You shift in your seat as you avert your eyes from his; eyes flitting down his toned body instead as you mentally curse yourself.

“I… kinda? I m-mean… not normally but just--just these last few days. It’s almost been every night… I wake up and--and it’s just… I’m...” You trail off; somewhat shy to say the rest of what you were going to say even though you’re almost certain Wonwoo already knows.

“Odd. Me too. I kept dreaming about you, which is, honestly, kind of why I thought to come back earlier.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, we still had 2 weeks left, technically. A bit of a spillover since my professor wanted us to explore the city once finals were over. But I just wanted to come home.” He finishes with a chuckle - a soft look in his eyes.

You pout back at him, “You didn’t come home early just for ‘lil ‘ol me, did you?” You say it jokingly, but deep down you do wonder.

“Would that be so bad?” Grinning, Wonwoo sets a couple of bills down onto the table to cover the meals you both barely have touched.

“Like I said, I missed everything about you, sweetheart.”

Wonwoo walks you back to your place afterwards; laughing and joking with you as if he hadn’t been gone for the last 3 months.

There’s a certain playfulness about him that makes your heart bloom and part of you wonders if he’s opening up to you more now that there’d been some time apart.

“Are you gonna be working at the library again? Or is that done forever now?” “Mm.. I mean, it’d be kind of weird if I stopped, don’t you think?”

The grin of his face is telling and you have to mentally stop yourself from letting your mind wander in the middle of the sidewalk. “Y-yeah... Studying in my apartment isn’t really the same, y’know…”

Laughing, Wonwoo takes the opportunity to swing an arm around your shoulder as he tucks you under his arm. “I was actually at the library earlier to ask about my position back. I start tomorrow.” Goosebumps rise on your skin and the close proximity is enough to make you whimper.

“I’m only taking two classes this semester to give myself a bit of a break so I’ll be in the library more often to fill up the time. You can always call me if you need to know where I am. I promise I’ll respond this time, sweetheart.”

Before you know it, the two of you are already standing outside of your complex as Wonwoo takes his arm off of you.

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice that has you nodding feverishly in return.

“I have a morning class but I’ll come by in the afternoon? I can text you to let you know, just in case.” You offer back.

Wonwoo licks his lips, tilting his head before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead.

The soft gesture momentarily throws you off as you freeze but the smoldering look in Wonwoo’s eyes when he pulls away lets you know that he’s already scheming.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

#fratboy!wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #wonwoo #wonwoo fic #jeon wonwoo #uimy_meltwonu #svt fic

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itsnothesameasitwas · 3 years ago

Note

hiii! im looking for good freinds to lovers fics bc i go through them sooooo fast :/ if you have any good ones pls send them !!!

hii… sorry this took me a whole day but here some Friends to Lovers fics… all the fics I’m recommending are Larry and please be careful with the tags before start reading and leave kudos :)

ABO

♥ Promise Me You Won't Run Away by thinlines @thinlinez | 23k | E

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

Or the Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

♥ i don't wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby | 19k | E

Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.

Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless. The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality. And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.

(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)

♥ picking up the pieces by falsegoodnight @falsegoodnight | 35k | E

“Zayn,” he murmurs, quietly but desperately.

Knowing what to do immediately, Zayn discreetly glances behind them to scan the room. “Walking over,” he says, confirming Louis’ worst fears.

“Maybe he’ll just pass by without stopping,” Louis says, glancing at the tables next to them as if hoping to find some other group of friends Harry had in high school that he could possibly want to talk to.

Eyebrow arched and lips pursed, Zayn has the nerve to look amused. “He’s looking directly at us.”

“Cause a diversion,” Louis rushes through his teeth, panic clawing up his throat. He can’t look Harry in the face again. Not yet, maybe not ever.

Zayn rolls his eyes and grabs his hand, interlocking their fingers. “It’s now or never, dear.”

- Louis returns to his hometown for the first time in ten years for his high school reunion and is faced with memories he’s long since tried to forget.

MPREG

♥ waiting on you by beckywritesthings @beckydoesthings | 21k | M

“Do you want to touch?” Harry asks, taking one of his hands off to tangle with Louis’. His open invitation finally drags Louis’ attention away from his baby and up to his face, blue eyes wobbly with emotions. It’s clear that he’s too taken to really form words, so Harry takes the initiative to press their laced hands against his shirt fabric, warmth from the skin radiating through.

Louis pushes his shirt up to his chest, taking Harry’s hand and pressing it to hold the fabric in place. His hands return to warm skin, palms even more scalding now that there’s nothing in between them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough for Harry’s heart to handle, Louis leans in, pressing his lips right above his belly button.

“Hi, baby,” he says, lips moving across his skin softly. “I’m your… I’m Louis.”

Or Harry is pregnant with a stranger’s baby and Louis doesn’t know. It’s a minor detail that Harry’s both living with Louis and in love with him. No big deal.

♥ you fit me better than my favourite sweater by brightbluelou | 13k | NR

Harry didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend, and he definitely didn't mean to get pregnant. Despite that, it’s probably still the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And after that, well. It just kept getting better.

or; the one where Harry and Louis are friends-with-benefits and Harry unexpectedly gets pregnant. Harry never wants to stop getting pregnant after that, but Louis thinks seven kids is probably enough.

AUS

♥ our matchmaker: the fucking universe by peachloulou | 8k | E |

On your eighteenth birthday, you end up with your soulmates' name tattooed on your body. The universe works in a fairly simple way, so Louis knows Harry is his soulmate. He's got Harry's name tattooed on his ass cheek like a tramp stamp, and Harry's got the name Lou written on the inside of his wrist. Except Harry doesn't know what Louis' soulmates name is because Louis is a romantic fool, and, ever since Harry woke up with the name Lou two years after Louis, he's been a quest to find his own soulmate. Meeting after meeting.

But maybe Louis' wrong, and he and Harry are nothing more than best friends.

Or the one where the universe is annoyingly fucking complicated.

♥ Love Isn't Always on Time by softfonds @softfonds | 45k | E

Falling in love with your best friend sounds like a good idea, until he comes back from a work trip engaged to another man. A Made of Honor AU.

♥ You Might Want to Marry My Husband by Rearviewdreamer | 37k | M

When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore.

♥ Work of Magic by Bekita @justalarryblog | 34k | NR

"C’mon Liam, are you really going to use this against me now? You know the kind of humans his kind is! You know very well why we hunt them!" Louis said, done with the conversation and walking down the hall.

"No! We hunt people who don’t care about others, and neither Harry nor anyone in his family is like that!” Liam exasperated, following behind. “Louis, it's been two weeks, don’t you wanna know how Harry is? Has this hatred taken over so fast?" Liam inquired, knowing the hit a nerve.

"You know what, Liam? I'm not going to have this conversation with you." Louis said decisively, turning his back to his friend ready to go to his class.

But life is never fair, is it? When he turned around he was face to face with Harry in the middle of the hallway. The two stared at each other. Do I hate him? Louis wondered as he watched Harry's eyes fill with tears and seem to be begging for something. He preferred to ignore the pang in his chest and the urge to comfort the boy in front of him. He lowered his head and continued on his way.

Or the one that Louis is a WitchHunter and Harry is a Witch and they keep it as a secret, but they fall in love.

♥ practice in pencil, seal it in pen by loubellies @loubellies | 16k | E

AU where drunk Harry lifts Louis up after someone says “bottoms up”. Louis blushes at Harry’s antics, flustered that his best friend knew him more than he thought. Friends to lovers with a happy ending pleaseor Harry is in love with Louis but he doesn't know.

♥ plant new seeds by glitterhaz @cloudslou | 44k | TUA

Harry nods, not trusting his words. Slowly, he crawls under the covers of his bed, all too aware that Louis is doing the same, so close to him. Initially, he faces his desk, not looking at Louis, but after a few minutes he gets uncomfortable and turns over. Now, he’s only a foot from Louis’ face, and Louis has turned around too.

He doesn’t think Louis is asleep already, and it's confirmed when Louis’ eyes blink open sleepily. Harry looks at Louis, and Louis looks at him. Really looks.

“Can you see me?” Louis whispers.

Harry doesn’t understand the question, not really, but nods anyway. “Yeah, I see you,”

**Louis works at a lonely community garden, Harry is the upstanding fraternity man who makes it all feels a little less lonely. Over the course of a semester, that is.

♥ Skin New, Hands True, My Hands All Over You by PearlyDewdrops | 44k | E

Harry designs wedding cakes, so of course meeting blissfully happy couples every day is part of his job description. Unfortunately, it's caused Harry to perpetually hope each new day is the one he'll find love, too. That is, until Harry realises everything he's ever wanted is right under his nose in the shape of his best friend, Louis.

But predictably, Harry only comes to this epiphany when Louis starts seeing someone else. And this is not a John Hughes movie as far as Harry is aware. Everyone else is pretty sure, though.

Featuring a heavy dose of pining, copious amounts of alcohol, drunk dialing that results in a situation reminiscent of Rachel Green's, a ginger cat that likes to interrupt intimate moments, and a Halloween party that changes everything.

♥ if it kills me by you_explode | 110k | M

Harry and Louis have worked together in a difficult office environment for six years. They're best friends; Louis is the bright spot of all of Harry's days. But Louis is in love with Harry, and Harry's engaged to someone else. And that's only the beginning.

The Office AU. More or less follows the first five seasons. A lot of pining and misunderstanding the depth of feelings and rejection and angst, until there isn’t.

♥ In This Light by exhilarated | 99k | E

Harry is a wardrobe stylist who likes to live in the moment, and Louis is a popstar who looks dreamy in double breasted jackets. Harry never stood a chance.

♥ smell the sea, feel the sky by lightswoodmagic @lightwoodsmagic | 16k | E

They’d been planning this beach trip for months, stressing around work schedules and engagement parties, trying to find the perfect place to stay in and a time where there wouldn’t be families everywhere but the weather still perfect. Louis had spent what felt like hours researching and planning, dinners with Zayn and his boyfriend at their house that just ended in looking at places and sending them to Niall. He’d been looking forward to it for weeks, getting away from his job and his bullshit neighbours and the noise of the city.

It seemed ridiculous, really, that in all that time, Zayn hadn’t mentioned once that Harry was coming.

Or, Louis doesn't know how he's going to spend a week with the one person he wants and can't have. Harry proves him wrong.

♥ This Shifting Ground by zarah5 | 28k | M

University AU. In which Louis, law student, is the cheeky waiter to Harry’s dates. This is how it starts.

♥ No One Like You by myownspark | 19k | M

Dear Niall,I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely, Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

♥ across city skyline (and straight through my heart) by Halos_Boat @halohamilton | 76k | M

Louis Tomlinson meets Hollywood Heartthrob, Harry Styles when he walks into Louis' little bakery one day.

Immediately, Louis is charmed by him and Louis thinks Harry might feel the same way, given the fact that Harry has visited the bakery everyday since he'd come to town.

Until one day, Harry walks in with a boyfriend under his arm and a smile on his face.

The one where Louis owns a small bakery that's well known in his town and Harry Styles is an actor who comes to town to film a new movie. Louis is endeared by him, but that doesn’t seem to matter since Harry Styles is already taken.

♥ Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | 113k | M

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

♥ Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds | 88k | NR

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

- 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

♥ Nicotine by KrisStylinson | 42k | E

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

♥ California Sold by isthatyoularry | 123k | M

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

—————

if you feel like you need more, don’t hesitate to ask me :)

#friends to lovers #trackinghome #tracksintheam #1dsource #hljournal #hlsource #my fic rec #larry fic rec #themed fic rec #long post #this a REAL LONG POST #sorry but yk...#fics can't wait heheh #when I was looking for fics through what I have read I noticed this is one of those tropes I barely read #but I’m always willing to read :)#hope it helps:D #ask #louisloverera

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tsumusamu · 4 years ago

Text

call you mine iv [miya atsumu x fem!reader]

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: 11.3k (i’m so fucking sorry i don’t even know what happened)

warnings: slow burn, poor quality of writing and plot bc i suck

part one / part two / part three / part four (you are here)

content under the cut!

You suck your teeth in frustration, staring hard at the last question on your Chemistry exam. You could swear up and down that you studied this topic just last night in your final cram session before the big day, but your brain just can’t seem to come up with a response that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit.

You will forever question why you are required to take so many science classes when your business major is never gonna require the ability to balance chemical equations or recite the periodic table.

A literal lightbulb goes off in your head as you finally formulate a reasonable answer. You glance up at the wall clock at the front of the room and realize you only have a minute left to write whatever you could onto your paper before time is up. Your heart rate picks up considerably as you begin to hurriedly scrawl your answer as fast as your poor hand (which has already been aching for days thanks to the many final papers and practice questions you’ve been spending your time on) possibly can.

Not a second after you dot in a period at the end of your last hastily-written sentences, the bell rings, signaling the end of class — and your semester exams. One more semester of hell and you’ll be done with university.

After your professor collects everyone’s exams, you pack up your things and join the crowds of students in the hallways that are eagerly pushing their way out of the building and to the freedom of semester break. You just can’t wait to get back to your apartment and crack open the fridge to grab some of that delicious green tea ice cream that Mika had made for you to celebrate the end of the semester. The thought of the dessert that’s waiting at home makes your mouth water and you’re so relieved that you can relax for a few weeks before the school starts up again —

“(L/N)! Wait up!” Someone jogs up to fall in step beside you. It’s Ryota, a boy who you rejected the affections of a while back. You still feel a little guilty about it, especially since he’s your seatmate in Chemistry and he always greets you politely despite the fact that you turned him down.

“Hey, Ryota.” You smile at him. He looks a little flustered as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck with his right hand, eyes darting around and looking everywhere but directly at you.

“Um…” He finally looks in your general direction with considerable difficulty. “I just wanted you to know that… my offer… it’s still open…” Ryota trails off into a mumble and he stares at his shoes. “If you ever decide to — I mean, really, only if you want to — give me a chance, um, just call me.”

You bite your bottom lip, gaze falling down to the ground as well. “…Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Truthfully, you probably won’t. Ryota’s a nice kid and you enjoyed working with him during labs (he’s usually quite the jokester and very loud during class, always making you laugh) but you just don’t want to lead him on. He deserves someone that’s not already head over heels for someone else.

You mentally scream at the reminder of that someone else. You managed to remove him from your thoughts for the past few weeks while you were studying but now it’s all starting to hit full-force and you’re just not ready to think about the sticky situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“Have a good semester break, (L/N).” Ryota waves goodbye to you, and you return the gesture. You can see a bit of hurt reflecting in his expression, and you really do feel kinda bad. But you know it’s for the best in the long run.

You pick up your pace as you finally exit the building, now officially starting your walk home. There’s a giant billboard that looms over an intersection that you’re waiting to cross, and you only grimace upon seeing the familiar image. MSBY Black Jackals, ambassadors for Adidas.

The red hand signal on the other side of the street seems to linger longer than usual as your traitorous eyes wander to the billboard, drinking in the picture once again. You know on the other side of the billboard are Meian, Shion, Adriah, and Oliver; you sort of wish that was the side facing you at the moment. But no, Bokuto, Hinata, and Sakusa, each decked out and posing in Adidas wear, beam (well, in Sakusa’s case, glower) down at you. And at the far right is Atsumu, a wide grin on his features as he bites his bottom lip in what you suppose was an attempt to be sexy (you remember that you had teased and laughed at him for days after that photoshoot).

Your stare longingly up at his advertisement, a knot tying itself in your stomach. You walk by this advertisement every day on your way home, yet you still stop and stare each time. Right now, it's a reminder that you need to find time to properly talk to him soon. This stupid tension between the two of you needs to be resolved.

You sigh, tearing your eyes away as a pedestrian behind you shouts, “Hey, lady! Stop staring at those pretty boys and move it!” You jump, sheepishly ducking your head down before hurrying across the street.

You're determinedly staring straight ahead this time.

“Hey!” Mika greets you cheerfully as you walk into your shared apartment, tossing your keys into the fish-shaped dish that you keep them in. Atsumu never liked that dish, always saying that it's creepy and —

“Hi, Mika.” You force a smile on your face, shoving the thought of Atsumu out your head.

“How were your exams?” She’s already moving to get her homemade ice cream out of the fridge, and a small spark of excitement ignites in your chest at the reminder of the treat.

“Fine,” you reply. You figure you at least passed everything.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that! You worked so hard, bet you aced everything.” Mika grins, holding out a spoon and a cup of ice cream. “Eat this, you deserve it.”

“Thanks.” You accept the treat and sit down at the kitchen table, eagerly digging in without another word.

“What’s wrong?” Mika peers concernedly at you as she scoops a portion for herself. “You just finished your second-to-last semester! You should be proud of yourself.”

“It’s not that.” You stuff another spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. It’s absolutely delicious, but you can hardly focus on the taste.

“Worried about next semester already, huh?” Mika chuckles. “It’s alright, time will fly by fast. And before you know it, you’ll be all done.” Mika’s a year older than you and graduated last year with a nursing degree. She quickly found a job as a nurse at a nearby hospital. Speaking of jobs, you really need to land a solid one soon in preparation for graduation. You’ve been digging through endless advertisements for good openings to no avail.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you hum casually, glancing distractedly down at the tiled kitchen floor.

“Okay, seriously. Tell me what’s up.” Mika arches an eyebrow at you. “You’re acting really weird.”

“Nothing.” You finish your ice cream and take the opportunity to escape Mika's suspicious stare by getting to your feet to wash your spoon and empty cup in the kitchen sink. “I think I’m just gonna take a nap. I’m really tired.”

“Alright, rest well then,” comes your roommate’s baffled voice as you quickly make your way to your shared bedroom, hardly glancing in her direction as you go.

You collapse onto your bed face-first, stuffing your face into your fluffy pillow before letting out a muffled scream that you’ve been holding in for way too long. Now that your studies are finally out of the way for time being, the elephant in the room is finally making its presence known once again. You roll over onto your back after a few minutes of lying there like a dead fish only to stare hopelessly up at the ceiling.

It’s been two weeks since Osamu came to visit, and since he’s left you haven’t really been in contact with Atsumu. The two of you have barely texted since that day, and your conversations were brief and dry. The day you spent with him and Osamu after the whole embarrassing ordeal from the night before had been nothing short of ‘awkward as hell’. The two of you had subconsciously wedged Osamu between you throughout the day, whether when it was just walking down the street or sitting at a restaurant. You had come to a silent mutual agreement to not speak about what had happened, and like the very socially-inept children you are, decided to make it even more uncomfortable for yourselves instead of talking it out like actual adults.

It shouldn't be such a big deal — except it is. You both know you were drunk (yet he doesn't know that you meant every word you said) and you should've just been able to laugh it all off. Instead of that, the two of you have just chosen to ignore the other's existence for two weeks. You've never gone this long in your entire life without at least a short phone call. It's so bizarre; a little thing like that shouldn't be breaking your friendship apart but here you are.

Several times, you’ve clicked on Atsumu’s contact, about to send him a message, before a sick feeling in your stomach stops you from doing so. You still don’t quite understand why that’s happening; he’s supposed to be your best friend, for God’s sake. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to say anything, too anxious to see what might happen if you do. It’s not like he’s tried to message you either, so maybe he doesn’t even want you to say something.

You shift over to your right side, spotting your stack of textbooks sitting near your desk. You scowl at the familiar sight. You've had many fantasies about burning your textbooks in recent times but they were so damn expensive that you figured that doing so would go against your best interest. Still, as you eye the books sitting there so innocently, you’re having second thoughts.

You really think you’re losing it.

Just stop distracting yourself and call him already, a voice in your head chides. What’s the worst that can happen?

You suppose you should really try and put that night behind you; it’s been so long already and there’s no purpose in dwelling on it for however more days and weeks are to come. Plus, now that your exams are over, you don’t have an excuse to keep ignoring the situation. You sigh deeply, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. It’s time to actually attempt proper communication, something that you and Atsumu definitely haven’t been practicing for a while now.

You fish your phone out of your pocket. You stare blankly at the last conversation you had with him. It was from three days ago. He had asked you if you had borrowed his Black Jackals hoodie. You said no. He did not respond.

You sigh again before pulling up Atsumu’s contact pressing ‘Call’. You can’t help but crack a smile at his familiar name and photo. He had insisted that his contact name be “THE SEXIEST GUY YOU KNOW” with a plethora of fire and smirking cat emojis, while his photo is a double-chinned selfie taken while he was pooping out a “fat shit” as he had so kindly informed you when he sent you the picture over Snapchat. God, you really hate him sometimes.

The phone rings a few more times, and there's no answer. You let out a quiet sigh of disappointment; of course you don't expect him to pick up his phone instantly every time you call but you just really wish you could hear his voice right now.

Your mind can't help but wander back to a few weeks ago, and mentally cringe once more. You know you should've tried to talk things out with Atsumu the day after the incident instead of running away like you frequently have been lately, but you just can't even begin to imagine the sheer amount of awkwardness that would likely fall between the two of you. One of the things you loved most about Atsumu is how comfortable you are around him; you're way too afraid to ruin it.

You don't realize how much time you spent laying in bed, head swimming full of nervous thoughts, until a text tone sounds from your phone. You hesitantly glance over to look at the message preview, and it's from Atsumu.

Hey, sorry I couldn't pick up. Was at practice. Can't call tonight either, I've gotta sleep early. Let's talk later.

Punctuation and capitalization? Your face scrunches up in confusion. Oh god. Why is he texting you like that?

Before you can start overthinking every single word of his text, you force yourself to shake the thoughts out of your head. That's not important right now. What you should be focusing on is getting your best friend back. You shouldn't be worrying about whether Atsumu returns your feelings or not, or if his texts are way more awkward than they usually are. You just want to talk to him again. Get things back to the way they were.

You decide that you'll try to catch him at the end of his practice tomorrow. You can ask Bokuto what time their practice will end, and you'll stop by the gym to see Atsumu.

You'll try to make things right.

Bokuto and Hinata are waiting for you near the entrance of the gym, and rush to greet you as soon as you enter.

"Hey, (Y/N)-chan! Long time no see!" Bokuto claps his hand on your shoulder in a friendly manner, making you involuntarily wince at the sheer force behind it.

"Hi, Kou." A tangerine head peeks out from behind Bokuto. "And hey there, Shouyou-kun."

"(Y/N)-san! It's nice to see you again!" Hinata grins widely.

"You too." You smile warmly. "And hello, Sakusa-san." The curly-haired man gives you a respectful nod in passing as he leaves the gym.

"Atsumu-san's still in the locker room. Want us to show you where it is?" Hinata offers helpfully.

"Sure, Shouyou. That'd be great." You follow Bokuto and Hinata into the gym and towards the locker rooms. You're struggling a bit to keep up with their long, fast-paced strides, but they don't seem to notice as they continue to chatter enthusiastically.

"Hey, please slow d — " You lost them. How the hell did you fucking lose them?

They were right in front of you, chattering away, and they rounded some corner and... disappeared?

You cluelessly look left and right. You're inside the massive locker room, with multiple hallways and rooms designated for different teams. You decide to find someone who can hopefully give you directions.

You hesitantly go left, where you can hear people talking from behind one of the doors on that side. You pull down on the handle, pulling the door open with a too-loud 'Creak!'

Ten or so heads turn towards you in curiosity.

Your cheeks immediately color, because you've just peeked into a room full of half-naked men with towels around their waists.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You compose yourself as quickly as you can, forcing a polite smile onto your face.

"Excuse me, where can I find the Black Jackals' locker room?"

"Who's asking?" one of the men questioned suspiciously. You bite your bottom lip nervously.

"I — "

"Oh, c'mon! Don't be so uptight!" A man with sandy hair steps forward. "I'll take you there, follow me!" He smiles at you, but you're a little skeptical of the weird gleam in his eyes. Like he knows who you are, and has some kind of malicious intent.

The man strides out into the hallway, still only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, and throws a casual arm across your shoulders. You grimace, inching away.

"Do I know you?" you blurt out.

"You're (L/N), right? Seen you with Miya before." The male smirks, raising his eyebrows. "I'm Nakamura. Starting setter for the Blue Eagles. Practiced with your man today."

"He's not 'my man', and stop touching me." Your tone is cold. "Thank you for offering to show me to the Jackals' locker room. Please lead the way."

"Harsh." Nakamura laughs carelessly, but takes his arm off of you. "Right this way, Ice Queen."

You strongly dislike him already.

Nakamura leads you down the hallways to another door, but before either of you can reach for the handle it bursts open to reveal a very worried Hinata.

"(Y/N)-san! There you are! Sorry we lost you!" Hinata's concerned expression fades into a mixture of confusion and irritation as he notices smugly smiling Nakamura standing next to you. "...What are you doing here?"

"Just showing the little lady the way to get here." Nakamura's shamelessly eyeing you like a piece of meat. If it wasn't against your better judgement, you'd slap him right about now.

"Thanks." You barely look at him. "See you a — "

You're cut off as someone pushes past Hinata and pulls you into their bulky, brawny arms.

"What the hell did I say last time? Didn't I tell ya to never come near her again?" Atsumu sounds enraged, his grip on you unrelenting as he presses you against his bare chest.

...What does he mean by 'last time'? you wonder briefly before flushing. Oh my God, how many half-naked men am I going to see today...

"Fucking relax, dude. I wasn't trying anything." Nakamura is still chuckling, but now with a note of fear.

"Get out of my sight before I break your nose." Atsumu takes a threatening step forward, and although you can't see his face, you can tell that he's genuinely furious by the clenching of his fingers into the fabric of your shirt. For a moment, you think Atsumu's actually about to pounce on Nakamura, as you feel his muscles tense threateningly.

"Prick," Nakamura sneers one last time. You breathe a sigh of relief as the sound of his footsteps disappear down the hall.

"Are you okay?" Atsumu's large hands cup your cheeks and lift your face so he can look at you properly. Hinata slinks away to give you two privacy. Atsumu inspects you carefully, his chocolate eyes scanning you for any sign of harm. "Did he touch ya? Did he hurt ya?"

"No, no, I'm fine." You push his hands away and wriggle out of his grip. You need to focus, and you definitely can't do that when you're smushed against his naked torso. Atsumu watches you with a slightly wounded expression as you remove yourself from your embrace. "He doesn't matter. I came here to see you."

Atsumu's features soften. "Ya came to see me?" he parrots you.

"That's what I just said, i-idiot," you stammer out, face involuntarily flushing when Atsumu smiles that stupid smug smile of his.

"Right, ya called me last night. Again, sorry I couldn't answer," he says mildly, tugging his black t-shirt over his head.

"No, it's fine. I think it's best that we chat in person anyway." Your voice is shaking a little, and you pray that he doesn't notice. If he does, he's at least nice enough not to say anything.

"Oh, no. How did I screw up this time?" Atsumu grins once more and his tone is lighthearted, but as his best friend of over a decade you can tell he sounds a little strained — nervous, even.

"It's just — I, I just wanted to say th-thanks, for that night. When I was wasted in your apartment, and you took care of me." You didn't really plan well what you were going to say to him, and it's clearly showing now and coming back to bite you right in the ass. Atsumu stares blankly at you.

"Uh, no problem. Ya always look after me when I'm drunk, so just take it like we're even now, 'kay?" You want to slap yourself; although Atsumu isn't gonna say it out loud you know he's wondering why the hell you took time to chase him all the way over here just to say that.

"So, about what I said..." You're really digging yourself into a rabbit hole now; it feels like you can hardly control your speech now. Oh my god, shut the fuck up (Y/N). Keep this up and you're gonna end up confessing on accident.

"Confessin' what?" Atsumu's confused voice cuts into your thoughts, scaring the absolute living daylights out of you. You nearly jump out of your skin, eyes widening to stare at him like a deer in headlights. No way you just said that to his face. "(Y/N), why're ya so on edge? Really, did I do somethin'?" You laugh nervously, shaking your head and trying to get yourself together.

"No, no. Don't worry about it. Putting that aside, I wanted to come and see you. It's been a while, so..." You ramble, trying to change the topic.

"Yeah, it has." Atsumu is still peering at you, expression full of bewilderment. "Thanks for comin' around — "

"Oi, Miya!" One of Atsumu's teammates calls him from deeper in the locker room. He turns his head in the direction the voice is coming from. "Coach wants to talk to us, get your ass over here!"

"Ah, I should go." You quickly latch onto this opportunity to escape. You really do feel stupid. You took all this time and effort to come here and now you can't wait to escape. You just can't help it, though, not when you're both suddenly emotionally constipated around each other.

"(Y/N), wait outside for a bit, then we can go out to din — " Atsumu cuts himself off when he looks back and sees that you're gone. His eyebrows furrow together in confusion, his jaw slackening. What the hell has gotten into her?

"Miya!" His name is called again. Atsumu sighs, forcing himself to push you out of thoughts. At this point, the only thing that can distract him from the odd situation that the two of you have found yourselves in is volleyball.

He's not that stupid — he knows that there's some tension between the two of you. Unbeknownst to you, he's also taken time to consider how to resolve it. Unfortunately, Atsumu's found himself just as clueless. Where does the line between friendship end and start to bleed into something more? How long has he been toeing that line with you, too scared to cross it?

In the end, all that matters to him is that he can't lose you. Atsumu had thought that the way to remain by your side is to be your loyal best friend forever. However, lately, he had begun to question if this promise he had made to himself is what is going to end up being his biggest mistake.

His feelings are still there, after all. No matter how much he sometimes wishes they weren't.

Sometimes, Atsumu finds himself almost jealous when he sees his friends and teammates with random people, seemingly without a care in the world. He can't say that he's completely innocent and has never done the same himself, but he always feels uncomfortable after the fact, because they're not you.

Which unforgiving deity had made him give you his heart so early on, branding him forever with the blessing of loving someone like you yet with the curse of unrequited affection?

"Miya, why do you look like you're having an existential crisis? Snap out of it." A frowning Meian suddenly appears in front of him. "Are you okay? You've been doing this way too much, more than what should be seen as normal." Atsumu quickly straightens up, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Don't worry about me. Just been feelin' kinda rough, lately. It's nothin'."

He wishes it really were nothing.

"(Y/N)." You jump when Mika's voice enters your ears, and almost cut yourself with the knife you're using to chop carrots. You clear your throat awkwardly and set down the knife, turning to face your roommate, who looks very confused. "Are you alright? You've been really jumpy lately. Did something happen?" Truthfully, Mika's been extremely worried about you. You've always been a pretty upbeat and collected person, even under stress. Seeing you look so detached and on-edge for the past month rubs Mika the wrong way. It's just so unlike you. At first, she had chalked it up to you being concerned about exams, yet you're still acting strange even though they're over now.

"No, I've just been... um, stressed about work," you say, your voice coming out a few octaves higher than normal. Mika casts you a skeptical look, making it very clear that she didn't believe a single word of your bullshit.

"Aren't you taking fewer shifts during your semester break to rest?" she reminds you. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Right," you reply, going back to cutting carrots. Mika thankfully changes the subject.

"What are you making?" she asks, taking a seat at the kitchen table to watch you cook.

"Oh, a bento." You gesture to the freshly-prepared fatty tuna sitting on a bed of cooked rice already in a container.

"For who?" Mika presses. You swallow, almost stabbing your own finger again in your distracted state.

"...'Tsumu," you say after a beat. "I'm gonna visit him tonight." It's been about a week since that awkward meeting in the locker room, and you haven't been in contact with him since. The silence is absolutely killing you, and you decided to suck it up and go over with a peace offering: his favorite fatty tuna bento. You hope that it'll be able to clear the awkwardness between the two of you and things could go back to normal. Well, as normal as they can possibly be.

"I've been meaning to ask; how is Atsumu? You haven't been hanging around him lately," Mika notes. You stiffen. "Alright, so you don't wanna talk about it. It's okay."

"No, no, I..." you trail off, putting down your kitchen knife to rub the back of your hand against your right eye, sighing slightly. "...It's kinda complicated."

"So I can tell," Mika comments dryly.

"This time, I just don't know how to fix it." You feel your shoulders tremble a little, and you quickly force yourself to calm down. You've never been the open-book type; talking about your feelings has always been difficult for you. Thus, when you're put on the spot like this, it's hard for you to open up.

"You're both still in love with each other?" Mika quips.

"H-Huh?" You look up at her in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Even when I barely knew you back in high school, it was obvious." She raises her eyebrows. "I saw the two of you twice in my life before we became roommates. And even I knew you and Atsumu had something going on."

"There was nothing," you reply glumly. "You know I like him, but he doesn't feel the same."

"Oh, sweetie." She gives you a look of pity, which only serves to confuse you.

"What?"

"(Y/N), honey, I thought you were smart." Mika sighs. "Do I need to spell it out for you? Atsumu's just as in love with you as you are with him. Maybe even more so." You've already stopped listening, turning your attention back to making Atsumu's bento.

"He's really not," you say . "It's nice of you to say that, though." Mika briefly considers slamming her head against the table in pure frustration. "I wish I had a relationship like you and Daishou-san do."

"Believe me, dating him isn't easy either." She rolls her eyes. "He literally acts like he's five years old. Sometimes I feel like I'm more like his mom than his girlfriend." You both chuckle a bit. "I wouldn't trade him for the world, though."

"Yeah." You smile, a little wistfully, as you sautee the carrots and some broccoli in a pan. "Maybe one day I'll find someone that I can love like that."

Mika just hopelessly shakes her head behind your back. "Something tells me you don't need to look too far."

You don't reply, occupied with cooking the vegetables and looking as lost as ever.

You realize that maybe you should've texted Atsumu before you came to his apartment, because you completely forgot that you don't even have a key card to enter the building. You can see the silhouette of the security guard lurking inside. The guard is big and beefy; could definitely knock you out with a punch or two. Don't be stupid, (Y/N), he's not gonna hurt you. You think about calling up Atsumu, but you, for some reason, decide against that notion in favor of walking up to the door. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize that the guard on duty is a middle-aged man called Aito, who you've encountered many times over the years and recognizes your face.

"Hi, (Y/N)!" he greets you as he opens the door for you with a smile. "Here to see Atsumu?"

"Yup." You hold up the homemade bento, which is nearly tucked away in a plastic grocery bag. "Surprising him with this."

"I'm sure he'll love it." Aito laughs heartily. "Kid's a real hotshot now, huh? All famous and stuff. I see his face everywhere."

"Sure is." You hum. "He's worked hard for all of this."

"Right he has." Aito gestures toward the elevator. "Well, don't keep him waiting!"

"Thanks, Aito." You quickly wave goodbye before hurrying towards the elevator. You press the button for the seventh floor. Your hands suddenly start getting clammy as the elevator goes up and up and up, your heart rate speeding up a bit. You have to keep reminding yourself to stay calm; there's no reason to panic. He's your best friend, after all. He'll be happy to see you.

Probably.

Him not saying anything after the awkward misunderstanding last week really did hurt you. Did he not care enough about you to even bother even sending a simple text or two?

By the time you arrive at the seventh floor, you're thinking about closing the elevator doors and going right back to the lobby. You're seriously tempted, but the weight of the bento in your hand reminds you that you came here for a reason: to finally resolve the odd tension between you and the boy you care so much about.

You quickly step out of the elevator and start walking down the halls before you can allow your thoughts to drive you away.

You stop in front of Atsumu's door, delivering three hard and loud knocks. You wait for a few seconds. No answer. You knock three more times. Still nothing.

You're about to knock again, when suddenly, you hear something that makes you freeze. A soft moan. Then a guttural groan. All followed by a breathless, feminine scream of Atsumu's name. You can clearly hear the rhythmic creaking of a bed and a chorus of filthy words and curses spewing out from your best friend's mouth as he pleasures himself and the woman in his apartment.

You take two steps back from the door, heart pounding in your ears, and the grocery bag with the bento slips out of your fingers and clatters onto the ground with a resounding and echoing thump. The noises inside the apartment pause, and you hear Atsumu let out an annoyed grunt.

"Ya need somethin'?" You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. You just stand there silently like a complete idiot as Atsumu continues to ask for an answer. You stay rooted to your spot even when you hear his heavy footsteps approaching the door, his deep voice grumbling out complaints about being disturbed.

The door swings open, and you flinch, quickly stepping back even farther until your back hits the wall behind you. Atsumu's in his doorway wearing only his boxers, which hang low on his hips, and his hair is messy and rumpled.

How many damn times am I going to see him half-naked? you briefly muse before a slight feeling of despair spreads within you at the frosty expression on Atsumu's face.

"Who's there?" His eyes are glinting a bit wildly as they zero in on your small figure pressed against the opposite wall. He glares angrily at you for half a second before he realizes who you are, and his features immediately soften into confusion.

"...(Y/N)?" Atsumu's voice cracks a little as he drinks in the sight of you, dressed in one of his hoodies (which you had planned on returning during this visit) and a pair of dark jeans, looking as beautiful as ever. He's always loved how his clothes completely swallow your figure; you look adorable and... his. You look like you belong to him, when you're dressed up so cutely in his too-large clothing, and that's all he's ever wanted. For you to be his, and for him to be yours.

Even if such a thing will never be true, he lets himself pretend at times.

He knows he's missed seeing you, but the feeling finally fully hits him as you shift uncomfortably on your feet instead of running to him and tackling him in a hug like you usually did after a long time apart. Taking in your nervous and apologetic expression, Atsumu immediately regrets shouting at you; if he had known you were coming he would've never invited a girl over at all.

"Sorry for bothering you, 'Tsumu." Your voice is so awfully, awfully small, and Atsumu's heart clenches painfully.

"Yer not botherin' me. Yer never botherin' me," he says gently, but you still don't look up at him.

"Guess I should've told you that I was coming. My b-bad." You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. Holy shit. Talk about bad timing. That's not his fault, though. I really should've checked with him before showing up.

Yet, despite your reasoning, a small flame of jealousy and bitterness still ignites deep in your uncomfortably churning stomach.

"Yer always welcome here, (Y/N)." His voice cuts into your thoughts, low and gentle. Atsumu takes a step out of his apartment, but quickly stops when you subconsciously brace your hands on the wall behind you, shoulders trembling and breaths shaky.

"I think I should go," you say quietly, but before you can move Atsumu strides forward, placing one of his hands next to your head and effectively trapping you against the wall. Your eyes widen at the sudden movement, instinctively shrinking back a little. Your reaction causes hurt to flicker into Atsumu's expression as he tilts his chin down to meet your gaze.

"...Don't," he finally breathes after a moment. "Don't go." Atsumu hesitantly leans in closer, and this time, you let him. You're completely lost in those familiar chocolate eyes that you've loved for so long; they seem to pierce through your very soul in the most beautiful way that makes you feel so adored and protected. He, and he alone, has had your heart all this time and you know that will never change; not as your breath hitches in your throat when he moves just a bit closer, not as your heart rate increases tenfold when his gaze flickers down to your trembling lips.

Little do you know, similar sentiments are filling Atsumu's thoughts at the giddy feeling of you so close to him. He notices the way you follow his own gaze down to your lips. You bite down nervously on your lip, a habit that Atsumu's noticed on you for many years. But at this moment, it took every single rational part of him to keep himself from crashing his lips into yours.

You're just so close.

What do you want from him?

Do you want him to hug you? Comfort you? Stand in silence? Kiss you?

He's willing to do anything to erase that worried crease between your brow and see you smile in that way that sends his heart into overdrive.

You're not pushing him away, yet you're not doing anything to get closer. Atsumu's waiting for you to speak, to say something, anything to enlighten him on what exactly is going through your head. But there's nothing, nothing as the two of you silently stand there, only inches apart, like utter buffoons.

A large, warm hand cups your left cheek. You don't move away. Instead, you find yourself leaning into his touch. Atsumu takes this as a green light to do something.

His first instinct is to brush a feather-light, barely-there kiss against your cheek. You flinch a little, but Atsumu's strong arms come to circle around your waist, holding you steady.

Atsumu's lips trace softly against your cheek, drawing a trail up to your ear, where he whispers, "Why're ya here?"

"I... I just wanted to see you," you mumble. "I... didn't know you'd be busy. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." He suddenly pecks the shell of your ear, causing you the jolt slightly in surprise. "Like I said, yer always welcome."

Stop looking at me like that. Stop touching me like that. Stop talking to me like that. Stop it. You're giving me hope.

"I should go," you repeat lowly, cowering away into your little corner of denial again; even after all of the pep talks you've been giving yourself for this moment, you still feel unprepared to finally face him.

"No, I'll..." Atsumu pauses, eyebrows furrowing. "I'll... take care of everythin'. Just come in for a while, 'kay? We can hang out. Watch one of yer corny kids movies. Think there's still some of the snacks that you and 'Samu bought; those shits never expire anyway. We can eat those. How about that?"

The shining, hopeful glimmer in his beautiful, chocolate eyes makes your chest ache with longing.

It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. Stop getting my hopes up. It's not fair.

You want to stay. You really, really, want to.

And you should've stayed. But your eyes decide to trail down from Atsumu's earnest expression to his neck, which is covered in blooming, purple love bites. Something terrible in your gut just wrenches.

You know you have no right to feel this way. You're just his friend, nothing more, and yet the selfish, horrible part of you reels in distaste at the thought of him loving someone else. Wants to deny the fact that your feelings of jealousy stem only from your own foolishness of not being able to accept things the way you are.

Why do you always keep wanting more when you know you can't have it?

You suddenly want to run far, far away.

And, in your vulnerable state, you decide (against your better judgement) to do just that.

Slowly, hesitantly, you place your hands on his broad shoulders and shove. He doesn't budge for a moment, as the force of your push wasn't all too much, but quickly gets the hint. Despair flashes across Atsumu's face as he backs off with small, wounded steps.

It's silent in the hallway again. All you can hear is the rapid, deafening pounding of your heart in your ears.

Neither of you know what to do next.

You then remember why you even came here in the first place.

"I made you something." You halfheartedly gesture to the bento on the floor, which is luckily still perfectly intact, "...I hope you like it. See you around." Not giving him another chance to say something, you practically dash away, not looking back even when you hear Atsumu calling your name, asking you to wait.

You know you're being unreasonable and overdramatic, but you can't help it. You know that Atsumu's obviously no blushing virgin, but you've never actually caught him in the act until now. In fact, you've noticed that he tries to keep you unaware of that side of him, but you're no fool.

You try and ignore the tingling sensation still lingering in your body from when he held you so tenderly just moments before.

You don't even realize that you're crying until Aito stops you on your way out of the building, asking what's wrong.

"Nothing." You plaster a smile on your face. "Goodnight, Aito." Aito watches you in confusion; you usually stay much longer than this. It's hardly been twenty minutes —

Oh. He briefly remembers when he had seen Atsumu enter earlier that evening, an unfamiliar lady in his arms. Neither of them had come down since.

"Take care, (Y/N)." And he has the same look on his face that many people have given you lately. One of pity.

Atsumu knows he should try to chase after you. Sprint down the halls (even though he's practically naked) and catch up to you to wrap himself around you and plead with you to stay. But he doesn't. He stays frozen to his spot, watching you disappear into the elevator.

A note of dread fills his body as his eyes trail down to the small bag you had left in front of his apartment. With shaking hands, he picks up the bag, opening it to reveal a bento. He recognizes his favorite, fatty tuna, though the clear glass lid of the container.

Tears suddenly prick at Atsumu's eyes as he takes in the beautiful bento that you had surely spent a good amount of time preparing just for him. Perfectly-cooked fatty tuna (his favorite) is arranged neatly on a bed of rice. Carefully-diced carrots and broccoli fill one of the smaller compartments, while a hard-boiled egg occupies the other. The container is still warm to the touch (you must've just finished cooking) and the food emits a pleasant, mouthwatering aroma despite being packed away inside the plastic container. He's a little puzzled as to why you suddenly would make him a bento, though; you're a good cook but you rarely put your skills to work due to lack of time.

A small note written in your handwriting then flutters from the bottom of the container.

I hope this tastes good, and even if not, can we be friends again, Tsumu? I miss you.

Atsumu clumsily picks up the note, reading the message over and over, finally realizing just how much had changed between the two of you in recent times. Did you really think he didn't want to be your friend anymore? The thought had never even crossed his mind...

"Atsumu, are you okay?" His fling for the night suddenly appears in the doorway, fully clothed with concern written all over her face. Atsumu just sighs, wanting to keep the awkward conversation short and simple. She's a nice girl and he invites her around often, but they're not emotionally connected like that.

"Yeah." His grip tightens on the bento and the note.

"I figured you'd like me to leave," she says simply. "That's her, isn't it?"

"Huh?" Atsumu's eyebrows furrow in confusion. What is she talking about?

"(Y/N)." She grins a little as Atsumu's mouth drops open. "You know, the girl you kept wanting to text when we were watching that movie earlier." Atsumu grimaces, slightly embarrassed.

"You saw that?" The memory of him opening and closing your contact in his messages flashes clear in his mind.

"Sure did." She playfully pats Atsumu's cheek as he stiffens like a board in surprise at her words. "Call me if you need me, baby boy, but you better do something about her before it's too late."

Atsumu can do nothing but stare blankly at her retreating back as she leaves him standing dumbly in the hallway, homemade bento clutched firmly in one hand and your handwritten message in the other.

Mika's not used to seeing you cry.

Sure, you're not happy-go-lucky 100% of the time, but more often than not you're not splayed on the couch wrapped in multiple layers of blankets and crying your eyes out.

She fetches you another cup of water, worry building up within her as you muffle your sobs with the blankets.

You had shown up back at the apartment much sooner than Mika had expected, and that had already been a sign that something went wrong. You had calmly walked over the couch, sat down, buried your face in your hands, and then let out the single most devastated sob that Mika had ever heard. That alone was enough to induce her motherly instincts to bring you blankets and comfort.

Even though she wants so badly to know exactly what had happened, she kept her mouth shut.

Mika sits on the floor next the couch, drawing patterns on the fluffy carpet below her, waiting for you to say something. You're sipping the water she brought you, eyes still glassy with tears and bottom lip wobbling. Your hand holding the cup trembles, and you quickly set it down before a mess is made. You then burrow back into your little nest of blankets, shoulders shaking with each hiccupping breath.

"Why..." you suddenly mumble, voice hoarse and exhausted, "W-why am I so selfish?"

"Selfish?" Mika frowns. You're far from it. You're of course not the most generous person on the planet Earth, but never once in her years of living with you have you ever come across as selfish.

"I-I want him." You hiccup. "I w-want him to l-love me." Your roommate's expression drops. No way... did that idiot actually reject you?

"He does," she tells you firmly. If the lovesick way Atsumu looks at and talks to you is enough to go off upon, then she has plenty of evidence. There's no way Atsumu actually turned you away... right?

"Not like that." You sniffle. "I-I mean like, a lovey w-way."

"He does," Mika repeats. You only hum disbelievingly, letting out a soft sigh.

"I d-don't, I don't want to c-cry over him a-anymore." Your grip on the blankets tighten. "These s-stupid feelings I've h-had for him all these years... they're j-just hurting both of u-us." You really are upset at yourself in this moment. You know the way you're reacting to this situation is probably overkill, but you can't help it anymore; you've been holding down your emotions for long enough.

"You're not selfish," Mika tells you gently, but you don't respond.

"I just w-want my best friend b-back..." You take a shuddering breath. "I need to s-stop being selfish a-and let g-go."

"Let go?" your roommate echoes, not really sure what you're getting at.

"Mika." You lift your head from the blankets, your teary, bloodshot eyes burning with a new kind of determinedness. "Can you still find me a blind date?"

You're nervous.

How could you not be? You're about to go on your first ever official date. Your first date, in your twenty-three years of life. (It's almost laughable).

"You look great, (Y/N)," Mika reassures you. "And you're set up with a good guy, plus Suguru and I will be there too."

After your meltdown over Atsumu a few days ago, Mika had quickly fulfilled your request for a blind date, setting you up with one of her boyfriend's old acquaintances who happens to still live in Tokyo. The plan is that you and your blind date would go on a double date with Mika and Daishou to (hopefully) make things less awkward.

And perhaps you had expressed that you don't want to be alone with some random person that you've never met for your first date.

Mika keeps reassuring you that the mystery guy isn't weird or creepy or anything that needs to have you worried, but you can't help but look at yourself and wonder if this is just a huge waste of time. It's not like your feelings for Atsumu had just suddenly vanished into thin air; they're still very intact and are taunting you as you get ready for your date with the notion that you might be leading a poor boy on.

And you can't exactly feel great about yourself either after ignoring Atsumu's texts from the past few days.

You figured you would answer him after your date, not wanting to back out of the arrangement because of your (still intact) undying love for Atsumu, but the messages still linger in your head.

Can we talk?

Are you okay?

I would've been fine if you stayed

Did you get home safe?

Nvm, Mika told me you made it

When can we meet up again?

Take care of yourself, I miss you too

"We're going to meet them in five minutes." Mika's voice cuts into your thoughts, and you give a small start. She smiles comfortingly, giving you a reassuring pat on the back. "And trust me, your date's gonna feel so damn lucky. You're beautiful."

You stare at yourself in the mirror, uncertainty washing over you as you assess your appearance once more. The four of you are going a fancy, upscale restaurant with a formal dress code (you hope to God that you wouldn't have to crack open your wallet to pay for anything because you're broke as fuck), so you had to dress yourself up. You're wearing a royal blue, satin cocktail dress lined with a delicate sweetheart neckline. A simple silver pendant (Mika's) is clasped across your neck and a pair of open-toed, black heels sits waiting at the door. You had even taken time to do your makeup and style your hair. After only seeing your sleep-deprived, stressed-out reflection staring back at you for the past few weeks, even you have to admit that you look like quite the sight for sore eyes (literally).

All for this blind date with a guy that you might not even end up liking.

Stop being so negative, dumbass.

You're not going to let yourself ruin the experience before it even starts.

You look fantastic, the restaurant's reviews are great, and the guy you're meeting will be amazing. You just have to keep telling yourself that.

Mika basically has to drag you out of the apartment because you can't stop zoning out thanks to your overthinking.

Daishou Suguru, Mika's boyfriend, lives in the Aichi prefecture, which is a good few hours away from Tokyo. But he comes twice a month to visit Mika, and every time you see them together, they look like the happiest people on Earth.

You can't help but crack a small smile when she suddenly breaks away from your side as the two of you approach the restaurant, running up to her dark-haired boyfriend and throwing her arms around him. Almost instantly, Daishou's face lights up with a fond smile, hugging her back before pecking her forehead.

"Oh, long time no see, (Y/N)." Daishou greets you with a friendly grin. He then gestures to a familiar tall, well-built man dressed in a sleek, black two-piece suit. Your jaw slackens in surprise as the man runs a careless hand through his ruffled black hair with a relaxed quirk of a smile on his lips.

"Nekoma captain?" you blurt, almost choking on your saliva.

"Hey there, Inarizaki manager. Been a while, hasn't it?" There stands Kuroo Tetsurou, former captain of Nekoma High, grinning down at you, and suddenly, all the tension in your shoulders relieves itself.

You and Kuroo had met at training camps back in your high school days, and while you never became extremely close to him, you had helped his team run drills with Inarizaki and of course brought water and snacks when needed. You had also engaged in conversation with Kuroo multiple times during and after practices, and he was overall charismatic and easy to talk to. He was (and probably is) good friends with Bokuto as well, so you had spent time in the same circle of friends at camp with him. All in all, you like Kuroo, and suddenly, you feel so much better about this date. At least you wouldn't be with a total stranger after all.

"Good to see you again, Kuroo." You smile warmly back at him.

"Oh, didn't know the two of you knew each other," Daishou remarks with a raise of his eyebrow.

"C'mon, everyone who was involved in high school volleyball knows each other," Kuroo points out rather sardonically.

"Shut up, of course I knew that, Rooster Head." Daishou and Kuroo glare at each other for a brief moment before Mika slips in sheepishly and pulls Daishou towards the restaurant before gesturing you and Kuroo to follow.

"Reservation for Daishou!" Mika chirps to the hostess. The four of you are led to two neighboring tables a few feet apart from each other. Mika and Daishou occupy one, and you and Kuroo the other.

"So, why're you here, (L/N)?" Kuroo suddenly asks you as the two of you settle in your seats and leave Mika and Daishou to be lost in their own little love world.

"W-What do you mean?" you stammer out, not expecting such a blunt question. Kuroo laughs.

"Sorry, guess that was rude of me. But last I heard from Bo, you were still dating Miya, so I was a little confused when you of all people suddenly showed up."

"Huh?" You frown. "I was never dating Atsumu."

"What?" Now it's Kuroo's turn to look confused. "You were never with Miya?"

"Never." You groan slightly. "Why does everyone think that?" Kuroo is silent for a moment, questioning his existence. "I'm here because I just... wanted to try out this whole blind date thing. It's new to me."

"I see." He nods slowly, clearly still not really processing your words.

"Why're you here?" you suddenly ask.

Kuroo blinks; you caught him off-guard. "Me?"

"Do you see anyone else around here?" You raise a brow. Kuroo can't help but chuckle. Even in the short time that he's spent with you in the past, he'd already grown a friendly liking towards you.

"I owed that snake bastard a favor." He sighs deeply. "Plus he was annoying as hell and kept begging me." Kuroo changes his voice into a whiny tone. "'Go on a blind date with my girlfriend's roommate, I promise she's hot' blah blah blah." You scoff. "I mean, he's not wrong," he adds as an afterthought after briefly checking you out from across the table.

"Kuroo, what the hell." You flush involuntarily; you don't know what to say as you just realized you have no fucking idea how to flirt.

"You can call me Tetsurou, by the way." Kuroo grins. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Sure, Tetsurou." You hide your flustered state with a shaky smile. "So I guess I'm (Y/N) to you, now."

"'kay then, (Y/N)." His eyes flicker down to the menu in his hands, and a look of brief confusion crosses his face. "Look, I don't know about you, but I can't pronounce anything on here."

You immediately look at your own menu, and it's filled with fancy dishes in a foreign language — French? — that your Japanese education had not prepared you to say properly.

"Yeah, me neither." You both stare blankly at the menu for a few moments, then burst into laughter.

"It's okay, we can just point at something random," he suggests.

"The cheapest thing, please," you groan. "The lowest price I see on here is already gonna make my pockets hurt." Kuroo snorts.

"Forget it, you're not paying tonight, (Y/N). Choose whatever you want."

Kuroo doesn't let you argue further, but you still go for the cheapest thing on the menu.

"How's life been treating you since high school?" Kuroo questions as the waiter disappears into the kitchen with your orders. You sigh.

"Well, I'm in my last year of uni. And still very unemployed for the near future. You?"

"Oh, I work for the Japan Volleyball Association," he says casually. "I actually saw your boyf — I mean, Miya, play at one of the games I was required to attend recently."

"C-Cool." You wince a little at the mention of Atsumu, which Kuroo quirks an eyebrow at, but you keep talking to distract from it. "What's working at such a big and important company like, then?"

"Fun enough. And not-so-coincidentally, I still get to work with one of my best friends. Do you remember Kenma?"

"Of course." Kenma and Kuroo were always two peas in a pod during high school, after all, so you've met and talked to Kenma a few times. Despite his usual unwillingness to talk to people he doesn't know, he'd always been pleasant to you.

"He's a famous hot-shot streamer now, and JVA's partnered with him to help further promote volleyball as a professional sport." Kuroo smiles rather fondly. "Kenma hasn't changed much, if you're wondering."

"Don't think you have, either."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not really."

"Well, that's a relief." You both chuckle. "And you haven't changed either, (Y/N)."

"Really, now?" You raise your eyebrows.

"Yeah, 'cause you're still in love with Miya." You had been sipping from your water glass, and suddenly choke upon hearing this.

"What?" you splutter.

"You're cute and all, but no offense, I have no intention to date you." Kuroo yawns. "Like I said, the only reason I agreed to a blind date is because that slimy snake wouldn't leave me alone. I was just lucky it turned out to be someone I knew." You aren't all that surprised or disappointed if you were being honest; yeah Kuroo is a nice guy and you enjoy talking to him but the thought of actually dating him hadn't even crossed your mind.

"Okay, that's fine. But what does that have to do with Atsumu?"

"Why aren't you with him?" Blunt as hell.

"Because, genius, feelings need to be mutual for a relationship to work," you deadpan. Kuroo stares at you like you've grown an extra head.

"You've got to be joking."

"What would I be joking about?" At your remark, Kuroo's expression turns even more incredulous.

"(Y/N), I don't think I'll be the first to tell you this, but — "

You don't hear the rest of what he says, because your attention had already been directed elsewhere.

You had seen Hinata's bright orange hair first.

No way. It's just Hinata, right?

Then you see Bokuto's two-toned silver and black hair. Maybe the two of them went for dinner together just because?

Next is Sakusa's head of curly dark locks. Fuck.

Meian. Shion. Adriah. Oliver. They're all present.

That means, there's then, of course, Atsumu. It's a whole MSBY Black Jackals team banquet.

Your best friend, who you are currently ignoring because of an extremely awkward situation that had occurred a few days ago and who you are definitely not ready to face, is sitting a few feet away from you. Thankfully, his back is to you, because you don't even want to start imagining what kind of cringeworthy things would happen if he saw y —

Hinata makes eye contact with you.

No. No. No.

You stand up suddenly. Kuroo doesn't even seem all that shocked at your sudden rush to leave the table; he of course saw the Jackals file in and even let out a low whistle of secondhand embarrassment. You appreciated his gesture, but you need to take a moment and collect yourself.

You rush towards the ladies' room, not noticing a pair of chocolate brown eyes that catch onto and trail after you.

The bathroom is thankfully empty when you walk in, as you immediately brace yourself by the sink. Your heartbeat is roaring in your ears and your mouth has run dry. You can't believe you're getting this worked up when nothing has even happened yet. How overdramatic can you get, (Y/N)?

You breathe in and out, deeply and slowly. Nothing is going to happen. So what if Atsumu sees you? Nothing bad's gonna happen. There's no reason why you should be panicking. He has his own business to attend to, and you have yours. End of story.

Now get out of this stupid bathroom and the enjoy the rest of the night with Kuroo eating the random expensive shit that you ordered. Don't worry about Atsumu.

You take all but two steps out of the bathroom before you bump right into someone. You already know who it is without looking up by the way they place a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, 'Tsumu." A gut feeling had already told you that this encounter would be unavoidable. Atsumu's dressed nicely in a white button-down shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks, proper for the restaurant's standards. As soon as you tilt your head up to look at him, you're reminded of how weak you truly are, because he's also wearing the wounded expression of a kicked puppy. You've missed him and his stupid pouty face so much.

"Didn't know ya'd be here..." He clears his throat awkwardly. "I was worried about ya. Why haven't ya answered any of my messages?" Atsumu's lower lip juts out even more, his big brown eyes filled with concern.

"I've been... preoccupied," you say lamely, not exactly sure how to explain that you were trying to block him out so you could focus on trying to have a good blind date. Looking back, it now seems like a very dumb idea.

"Yer..." Atsumu pauses, and his face contorts in confusion as he realizes what you're wearing. Holy shit. It's not that he doesn't like your choice of clothing, in fact, that's far from the truth. He's always known that you're beautiful, but here is just another reminder. Your pretty face looks back at him with an almost calculating expression, but he still takes the time to admire all your features, from your mesmerizing eyes to your cute nose to your very kissable lips (or at least they certainly look very kissable, because sadly he has never had the pleasure of trying). The silky royal blue fabric that hugs your figure so tantalizingly seems to mock him as it shines and shimmers under the light of the chandeliers above with every small movement that you make. His heart leaps into his throat, his breaths suddenly turning shallower —

"On a date, yes," you finish his train of thought. There's a short, but tense silence as Atsumu is quickly plunged back down to Earth.

"With who?" His voice comes out more accusatory than he intended it to, which clearly throws you off because you immediately square your shoulders in a defensive manner.

"Remember Kuroo Tetsurou?"

"Nekoma's old captain?"

"Yeah, him."

"Why him?"

"Why not him?" You glare briefly at each other for no apparent reason.

"D'ya even know him?"

"Well, I ended up on a blind date with him, and I'm clearly trying to get to know him."

"Why're ya suddenly dating? I thought ya were too busy to?"

"How is that any of your business?"

More glares.

"I don't want to be mad at you, Miya, so I'm going to ask you nicely to leave me alone right now."

"What? M'just looking out for ya!"

"You're not doing shit."

"(Y/N), ya can't just date people that ya hardly even know — "

"Like you're one to talk!" You're fuming now, and you already feel that this will be a recipe for trouble if you don't calm down in the next five seconds. "You, of all people, should not have a stick up your ass about this." Atsumu's mouth drops open slightly, and you can see a flicker of hurt flash through his eyes. Your heart gives a stir, but you know you have to stand your ground this time. This boy is not going to call you out for being on a date with someone you hardly know when he —

"Ya can't!" he suddenly blurts.

"Can't what?" you grit out, fists and jaw clenched.

"I..." Atsumu suddenly goes quiet.

"I don't want to fight with you." You force yourself to calm down a little; nothing good would happen if the both of you are so high-strung.

"I know." A pause. "I'm... M'sorry." Atsumu sighs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, his forehead creased with slight frustration. "You... you go and have fun, 'kay?"

"Thanks, I will," you reply rather brusquely.

"Really liked the bento by the way," Atsumu suddenly mentions, as if he's afraid you're just going to walk away if he doesn't keep the conversation alive. He gives a weak attempt at smile. "Was delicious. Thanks."

"Good," is all you can get out.

"Yeah, good."

Silence.

"Well, I don't want to keep him wai — " you start.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

Silence.

That familiar feeling of a mixture of euphoria and despair washes over you as you hear that phrase from him once more.

And for a few moments, you want to believe it's the kind of love you've always wanted from him. The warm, gooey kind that filled you with warmth the brim with affection and adoration. The kind that made you crave hugs and kisses and proclamations of devotion.

Back in your late middle school days, you always (embarrassingly enough) fantasized about Atsumu finally confessing his undying love for you before you would kiss, get married, and live happily ever after. That was before you realized that his love would come from a very different place than yours for him.

By now, he's said those three magical words to you hundreds of times, ranging in times from when you share your food with him to whenever you pick him up from bars piss-drunk. Yet, they've never lost their meaning to you, even though you know they don't mean what you want them to.

You don't think he's lying, of course.

If you could gather anything from the way he looked at you, a molten fire of strong emotion burning in his eyes, it would be that he truly does love you.

But you're selfish, something that you've come to terms with lately, and that love he shows you is not what you want.

"Love you too, 'Tsumu."

And you're selfish enough to keep loving him the way you do even though you know it's worthless for the both of you.

He looks like he wants to say something more for a moment, but he doesn't.

You part ways with Atsumu that night at peace, but there's still an unsettled feeling in your stomach as you sit back down at the table across from Kuroo. You know your problems with Atsumu are still not yet solved.

Mika is slightly disappointed when she hears that you and Kuroo are not planning on having another date any time soon (you had decided to not tell her about your encounter with Atsumu because she had been so happy that you were getting along with Kuroo) but she drops it quickly.

"It's okay," she had told you with a reassuring smile. "I'll find you another date."

"No," you had answered quickly, not even thinking about it before blurting the word out. "I..." You think about Atsumu and the way he loves you. You try to convince yourself it's enough. "...I'm really not ready, after all."

Mika nods in understanding and pats your shoulder encouragingly, not saying a word, which you really appreciated.

Even if he's not mine, even if I'm not his, it's okay. You lean back against the couch you're sharing with Mika, closing your eyes. You hadn't realized how truly exhausted you are. Things take time. Stop rushing yourself to move on when that'll just make things worse. You'll forget about all of this someday.

You still can't help but wonder though, how long it'll be until then.

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#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #haikyuu #miya twins #haikyuu x reader #anime #manga #hq #hq atsumu #miya twins x reader #fanfiction #fluff #angst #x reader #atsumu #atsumu miya

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hwangsies · 4 years ago

Text

LIMERENCE

(n) the state of becoming infatuated with another person

pairing: hyunjin x female reader

summary: you haven’t spoken a word to hyunjin since he ghosted you after a fun new years eve together, so what’s the worst that could happen when fate (or chaeryong,...well, same thing) pairs you up for a road trip across the country?

warnings: e2l (ish), university student!au, non idol!au ,a lot of swearing. alcohol consumption,long flashback, mentions of infidelity, hyunjin is a giggly sweetheart, smut as in: dom!hyunjin, unprotected sex (wrap it up luvs),fingering, oral (f recieving), slight choking, praise kink, hand & strenght kink (manhandleing oopsie), slight overstimulation, hyunjin is really enthusiastic about consent (as you should be, periodt), reader is nervous and scared of hyunjins big pickle (ew i hate myself), motel sex (but it’s not trashy i promise!)

8.6 k words ,meaning grab a snack and a drink,

and enjoy!<3

---

"alright everyone" your professor rubs his hands together "that was it for today... i hope you all have a great break and i'm very exited to see all of you again next semester. hopefully in person again" he chuckles.

You and your classmates exchange goodbyes with him before one after the other exits the zoom call.

"fuck" you sigh after closing your laptop and lean back on your bed.

"you did it girl" your dormmate chaeryong claps, at which you giggle before shifting your eyes to her on the other side of the room.

She's sitting on her bed, folding her clothes before putting it in her suitcase thats placed in front of her.

"finally" you sit up and watch her roll up a pair of socks.

"my last class was yesterday and mrs kim teared up" she giggles "it was kinda cute not gonna lie"

"oh god" you snicker.

"hey did you find someone to take to yongin?" you ask, remebering chearyong talking about wanting to find someone to share gas expenses with in exchange for a ride to her hometown.

"oh yea, i did" she turn to you "i think you know him, seo changbin?"

You furrow your brows in thought, you feel like you've heard of the name.

"he's a music major, one year above us, hes also from yongin" she continues folding a pair of jeans "funny you'd ask actually cause he told me one of his friends was looking for a ride to seoul, isn't that where you're going?"

"Yea i was thinking about finding someone honestly because gas is really fucking expensive if you aint rich" you say, placing your laptop onto your nightstand.

"Mm you aint gotta tell me girl" chaeryong mumbles, folding a sweatshirt.

"so who's that friend?" you ask, stretching out on your bed.

"he's in his grade, hyunjin"

Your neck almost cracks from how fats you whip your head “hwang hyunjin?”

"Oh yea" she points at you "you know him?"

"unfortunately" you huff.

"o-oh, what"s the tea?" your roommate wiggles her brows at which you shake your head.

"nothing much really" you sigh, leaning back again "he's just like the most arrogant and stuck up fuckboy ever"

"wow, well thats not nothing" chaeryong laughs "any reason as to why you think that?"

"you could probably ask any girl on campus and she'll tell you the same" you scoff.

"really girl?" chaeryong squints an eye at you playfully "cause i've only heard of him being hot but never of him being a hoe. And you know i'm the first to know the hot gossip" she winks.

Laughing defeatedly, running your hand through your hair.

"it's just- we hit it off at the campus' new years eve party, like really hit it off- at least thats what i thought"

"oooh spill it spill it" chaeryong leaps over to your bed to sit at the end of it.

"well there's really not much to spill, i gave him my number and he was talking all that smack about taking me out and stuff aaand to make a long story short i never heard from him again"

"well" chaeryong speaks slowly, biting her lip guiltily "i dont think you'll be very happy about me giving changbin your number for him, then?"

"you did what???" your eyes almost pop out of your head.

"sooorryy" she jumps up from your bed, clutching her hands apologetically "i didnt know"

"aaaaarghh" you whine, burying your face in your pillow.

"maybe he won't even text you though" chaeryong tries to console you, but the damage is already done...

unknown number - hey i got this number from changbin, i heard you're driving up to seoul, i'd love to tag along if you're looking for someone to share expenses with -recieved at 9:12 am

You huff looking at the message on your phone.

After chaeryong had left last night you really convinced yourself that he couldn't possibly dare to reach out to you.

But here you are reading his message after just waking up, and your day is already ruined.

you - who is this? - sent at 9:56 am

You know who it is, but you're not going to give him the satisfaction of thinking that you do.

Scoffing when he answers almost immediately.

unknown number - this is hyunjin, did i reach the right person? - recieved at 9:57 am

You have two choices at this point.

1. be petty and bitter about a boy who probably doesn't even remember you.

Or 2. move on and help someone who is also just trying to get home and also maybe get some closure.

So you curse your mother for rasing you so well and suck it up.

you - yea sure, i planned on leaving tomorrow at around 6 pm - sent at 10:02 am

Damn you and your common human decency.

he sus - oh okay great :) i only have one suitcase and a backpack btw so i wont take up alot of space or anything - recieved at 10:05 am

he sus - also i feel weird bc i dont know ur name or anything changbin literally just sent me the number and nothing else lol, also 6 sounds good should we meet at the main building then? -sent at 10:06 am

You're quite honestly not shocked that he seems nice over text because he was the same when you met on new years eve.

you - sure lets meet at the main building, my car is white and my name is y/n - sent at 10:09 am

Cringing as you press the send button because you are 99% certain he won't answer anymore; not that you'd care, obviously.

he sus - alright y/n see you tomorrow at 6 then :) - recieved at 10:14 am

You raise your brows when your phone lights up with his message, does he really not remember you?

Was he that drunk?

Well, it doesnt matter because you don't want to pay for all this gas alone and he seems to be the next best option to fix that.

So you shrug it off and get out off bed to run some last errands and start packing.

Your heart is beating unreasonably fast when you take a turn towards the main building at 5:55 pm the next day.

Calm down y/n it’ll just be 5 hours and who says you have to talk to him?

However you do know deep in your heart that you only wanted to arrive just a little early so you could complain about him being late.

That plan got cut short because your eyes fall on him as you pull up to the main building.

He’s- oh my god he’s blonde. You stop your car and he looks up at you.

“it is you!” hyunjin smiles at you when you step out of the car.

“who else would it be?” you ask, a little irritated at his reaction.

His face drops a bit when he sees you clearly annoyed by him, but the doesn’t blame you; he’d be mad too.

You open your trunk for him to put his weirdly small suitcase into, looking him up and down as he lifts it inside.

He’s wearing dark baggy pants and a windbreaker jacket, the top part of his chin-length blonde hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail.

He seemed to have bulked up as well, shoulders looking broader than what you remember.

The hair is different than the jet black hair that you remember on him, but it suits him very well; to be honest he would look good in any hair colour, not that you’d care though.

The first thirty minutes of the ride go by agonizingly slow and in complete silence.

When you drive onto the freeway you can’t take it anymore and mumble something among the lines of ‘wanna listen to some music?’.

You don’t wait for an answer, pressing the radio button right as you finish your sentence.

“uh, actually” hyunjin starts, his hand lifting to turn the radio back off, your eyes snap towards him, is he serious? Turning off your radio in your car?

“I wanted to address this situation” he says rather quietly.

You scoff “what? You realized that this is awkward just now?”

“no- I mean- yes I understand why you would think that but I just really want a chance to explain myself” he stutters.

“explain yourself” you repeat after him before mumbling “sure because there’s so much to explain”

“listen, I know you think I’m an asshole who just ghosted you b-“

“listen, I can handle rejection, you could’ve just said that you weren’t looking for something serious and I would’ve accepted that. The thing I’m mad about though is you literally making false promises and shit”

Hyunjin blinks at you “can I please just explain to you what happened?”

You let out a long huff “sure” you wave your hand “go ahead”

“when you and your friends left at around 4, you wrote your number on my arm with your eyeliner, correct?” he asks.

Glancing over at him, you nod.

“after you where gone, I was already pretty drunk but then my friends decided to drag me with them to a different party that was still going” you see him fiddling with his hands in your peripheral “well I got super fucking shitfaced at that party and ended up puking on this one guys shoes”

You raise your eyebrows and hold back a laugh, which he notices.

“its okay you can laugh” he chuckles as well.

“anyways that guy was not very happy about it and busted my lip before kicking me and my friends out, so then back in the dorm my roommate sat me in the shower because I was full of alcohol, blood and puke”

“ew” you chime in.

“and when I woke up the next morning your number was gone” hyunjin looks over at you “we don’t have any mutual friends, I didn’t know what your major is so I couldn’t even asks for you in the administrating office, and then the covid lockdown happened and here we are”

“you called the administrating office?” you look over at him, he nods a little smile on his stupid pretty lips.

“yep, so, sorry to tell you but your eyeliner is not waterproof” he jokes at which you playfully knit your brows at him.

“believe me, I wanted to text you. I really wanted to take you out; and when you sent me your name yesterday I didn’t know if this was a lucky coincidence or if you’re a different y/n, that’s why I didn’t say anything” he explains.

You take a deep breath as you realize you have to apologize for going off on him just now, you believe him but you hate apologizing.

“well, I feel like an ass for going off on you like that after hearing all this” you chuckle “I’m sorry” you eye him shortly before looking back on the road.

“it’s okay, you don’t have to apologize I get how it looked, very much sus” he laughs with you.

Coming back to your car after you took a bathroom break on a highway rest-stop, you see hyunjin sitting in the drivers seat.

“what do you think you’re doing?” you smile as you sit down on the passenger seat.

“I thought maybe you’d like to sleep since its dark already and you’ve been driving for almost 3 hours” he suggests while putting on his seatbelt.

“well, I wont say no to that” you shrug and put your seatbelt on as well.

“so when did you go blonde?” you ask curiously.

“uh- around end of june” hyunjin chuckles “it was a dare if I’m being honest but I ended up liking it and got it redone”

“oh okay” you check out his profile once more and follow his hair with your eyes “I like it”

“yea?”

“yea, which is weird cause I’m usually not into blondes at all” you wonder.

“hm” he grins “must be me then” he says before winking at you.

“pfff, in your dreams” you rebuttal playfully, at which he laughs and mumbles a ‘true’.

You don’t react to it because you think your ears are playing tricks on you.

“hey I have a question too” hyunjin says.

“what’s up” you lean your arm against the window as you look over at him.

His face is slightly lit by the lights of the other cars, no seriously, how can a side profile be so perfect?

“why did you even agree to take me with you if you thought I ghosted you?” he grins.

You laugh “well, I’m a nice person and I know not a lot of people there are from seoul and my mom raised me right, okay?”

“okay okay” he giggles, the way his eyes crinkle when he does makes you smile everytime.

“or…did you have such a good time with me on new years that you just had to jump on this opportunity?” he quips, carefully stealing a peek at you.

“sure, why do you think I was so upset when you didn’t text” you feign sadness.

The both of you laugh before falling into comfortable silence.

When looking outside your window, you think back to said new years eve.

-(flashback)

“oh my god” you said, stepping into the big hall that usually is the universities gym. But whoever planned this outdid themselves.

A dj was placed on one of the tribunes and a whole buffet of drinks and punches on the other, as well as a big disco ball hanging from the ceiling, making the room shimmery and shiny.

You could see people coming out of the doors that connected into the universities hall on one side and into the locker rooms on the others, as if it wasn’t already packed.

“this is fucking insane” lia, your roommate from last semester, squeaked while grabbing your arm and jumping a little, her voice overpowering the blasting music..

“I wanna get fucking hammered tonight” you turned to her.

“oh babe don’t worry, we didn’t come here to drink soda” she laughed before spotting some of your other friends.

About five minutes before midnight you and some more girls gathered at the buffet of drinks and started doing shots.

You all had decided that instead of kissing someone at 12 o’clock you’d ring in 2020 with a shot, because alcohol can’t cheat on you.

You were laughing at something when some people started the countdown.

10!

“HAPPY NEW YEAR”

Every one shouted and celebrated in union as you downed your shot.

“happy new year babe” lia hugged you after downing hers.

“happy new year!” you shouted into her ear, full of relief that this stressful year was over.

“lets do another one” she grinned widely after your whole friend group had shared their wishes with each other.

A girl you didn’t know very well handed you another shot, just as you emptied your glass you heard a guy yell something before stumbling into your back.

“jesus” you stumbled forward a bit before turning around, ready to throw someone a dirty look.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” in front of you suddenly stood a tall dark haired young man with almost too perfect facial features, frowning a little out of concern.

“nothing happened” you smiled, taking a step towards him so he’d hear you better.

“I’m glad” he replied, a grin slowly stretched across his handsome face

“I’m y/n” you giggled as you held out your hand.

His eyes crinkled with his smile as he took your hand in his “I’m hyunjin” he said before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“okay guys let her have her fun lets go over there” you hear lia usher your friends away from behind you.

“happy new year y/n” he said before instinctively pulling you a little closer to him when a group of people passed behind you.

“happy new year hyunjin” you replied, a slow blush creeping on your face from how intensely he was taking in your appearance.

“well yea happy fucking new years to me for running into you” he joked before taking a sip, your brain wasn’t able to function anymore so you just giggled and nervously pushed your hair behind your ear.

It had been way too long since you’d talked to a guy, especially someone as attractive as him

“you’re fucking stunning” hyunjin complimented you and lifted your hand with his to make you spin for him, to which you complied because you took a long time getting ready and always appreciate being appreciated.

“thank you” you were crimson red by now but hoped he wouldn’t see because of the dimmed lights.

“how come I’ve never seen you around? I would’ve remembered you” he tilted his head.

“oh this was my first year here and I live on the other side of campus so…” you nodded slowly “but yea I would’ve remembered you too”

He grinned before downing his drink and putting on the table next to the both of you.

“wanna dance?”

That’s how you found yourself on the dance floor with hyunjin pressed against your back.

Slowly but surely the alcohol made you braver; and it didn’t take long for the dj to play perfect songs to grind yourself against his toned body to.

His reaction was instant, hands gripping even harder at your waist and his own movements matching your own.

You looked back at him just to have the air knocked out of your lungs, a barely there sheen of sweat was covering his forehead; his pupils were dilated and his lips were slightly parted before his tongue swiftly swept over his lower lip.

He looked like sex on legs and moved like it too.

His plump lips formed into a grin when he noticed you staring, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol running through your system but you so desperately wanted to kiss him.

“can’t stop looking at you either, pretty” he lowered his head to mumble against your cheek before pressing a kiss there.

“you’re so goddamn sexy” you blurted out as you turned around to face him, running one of your hands through his dark hair before positioning them on his firm chest.

He threw back his head as his chest vibrated with laughter.

“don’t laugh at me” you laughed as you locked eyes again.

“you’re cute when you’re drunk” hyunjin brought one hand to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“you dont even know me sober” you giggle “also i’m not drunk!” you protested playfully, his hands found your waist in the meantime to pull you flush to his body; at which you gasped almost inaudibly.

“oh really?” he looked down at you, clearly amused “didn’t you drink like 5 shots half an hour ago?”

“well well well, I didn’t know I had an audience” you countered, looping your arms around his neck.

Hyunjin prodded at the inside of his cheek with his tongue before looking away for a swift second, slightly embarrassed because he just exposed himself.

You felt yourself gush a little when he licked his lips again after bringing his gaze back to you.

“so you almost knocked me over on purpose?” you grinned even bigger when he shook his head laughingly.

“listen” he chuckled, leaning down unnecessarily close because you could hear him perfectly fine but you weren’t going to complain.

“I actually didn’t run into you on purpose, that was my friends doing after he saw me notice you” he said.

You mouthed an ‘ahh’ while nodding, feigning disbelief.

“I’m serious” hyunjin laughed “I still have to thank him later; I would’ve probably chickened out”

He got quieter at the end of his sentence, his eyes jumping to your lips when you wet your lower lip with your tongue quickly.

“i-m glad he pushed you then” you replied, trying to hide the fact that your heart was pumping your blood in record time.

“yea” he inched his face closer to yours as you tilted your chin up to meet him in the middle “me too”

His eyes switched from your lips to your eyes one more time before closing the gap between the both of you.

His lips were firm but soft at the same time in the way they moulded against yours, you swore you could hear lia squealing from somewhere but maybe you were just hearing things.

But when his tongue touched yours in the most tentative way you lost contact to what was going on around you, slinging your arms tighter around his neck and deepening the kiss.

A tiny groan escaped hyunjins throat when you carded your fingers through his hair to tug on it and release some of the adrenalin that rushed through you.

He was slow and explorative and let you take control from time to time before sucking on your lower lip and making you loose it.

You didn’t know how many songs had passed; to be honest you didn’t even remember what song was playing when you started kissing.

All you knew in that moment was hyunjins lightly flushed cheeks, swollen lips and dark glistening eyes.

“let’s go somewhere else?” he questioned in a whisper when you bit your lip, nodding at his question.

He grabbed your hand in his before manoeuvring the both of you through the dancing and celebrating crowd.

Before you knew it, hyunjin pulled you into the entrance hall of the university where multiple people had the same idea as you.

Couples scattered across the big room, some just talking, most of them however making out heavily.

“come on” he softly tugged at your hand, smiling when your gaze falls on him.

He lead you up the big flight of stairs onto a floor of the building you’ve never been to, stopping in front of a random room before pulling a small set of keys out of his back pocket.

After unlocking the door, he opened it to let you step inside.

It was a dance studio, the wall right across from you was just one huge mirror through which you could see the big couch in the back of the room and the water dispensers next to it.

“why do you have the keys for this room?” you asked, giggling.

Hyunjin grinned as he closed the door “I’m a dance major, we all have keys for the practice rooms”

“that’s so cool” you beamed “I wish I could dance” you looked around the room, walking towards the mirrored wall a little bit.

“you were moving just fine earlier” hyunjin came up behind you, nimble hands finding your waist as he looked you up and down through the mirror intensely, now that you were under the bright lights of the room.

You couldn’t help but to smile a little at that, the tight little glitter dress that you had chosen really did accentuate your curves in the best way possible, paired with the cute black heels which made your legs look way longer than they actually are.

“but that was like club sexy dancing, you know?” you elaborated.

“hm” he hummed amusedly “whats wrong with sexy club dancing?” you turned around to him.

He didn’t look to shabby himself, all in black, a chic button up with some jeans and a belt; accessorized with rings on his pretty fingers, a dainty silver necklace and some small earrings.

Some might say he was underdressed, but the way he carried himself with such confidence, and that face of his must for sure be a panty dropper, you thought.

“nothing but… I don’t know, teach me something” you pleaded.

“what do you want me to teach you?” he laughed.

“I don’t know a pirouette or something” you suggested, laughing as well.

“okay” he grinned “this is like the base stance” he positioned himself correctly before looking at you to see if you were following his instructions.

“mhm” you hummed, replicating what he was doing.

“and then you get momentum with one leg to be able to swing yourself around, like this” hyunjin explained before executing a perfect pirouette and ending it back in the base stance.

“that was fast” you chuckled.

“your turn” he grins before moving behind you “try to keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror otherwise you’ll loose balance”

“okay” you said unsurely.

“I’ll catch you if you fall” he winked at you, at which you scoff playfully before carefully swinging yourself into a pirouette.

You landed on wobbly legs but before you could tip over hyunjin stabilized you with a firm grip on your hips.

“you’re a natural” he grinned at you through the mirror.

“well thank you” you playfully feigned cockiness before he spun you around himself.

A few seconds pass of the both of you taking in each others features in silence, the only thing you could hear was the faint music of the party downstairs, before hyunjin spoke up.

“can I kiss you?”

You fell into giggles again as you let your forehead rest against his collarbone before looking up again “we’ve kissed before”

“yea but that was like a moment and I don’t want to catch you off guard or anything” he mumbles cutely.

“mm” you nod “ you can kiss me”

And with a smile, he does.

You weren’t surprised when his first gentle ministrations turned into more desperate ones rather quickly because you could feel the warmth spread in your lower regions as well.

He walked the both of you over to the couch, only parting from your lips when he sat down on the black leather material of the couch.

“come here, pretty girl” he took your hand to help you straddle him, your dress riding up but you couldn’t care less if he saw your safety shorts, and he didn’t seem to care either by the way he feverishly connected your lips again.

His hands travelled down to squeeze at your waist before smoothing over your ass and grabbing a handful of each cheek, you moaned into the kiss when you realized how big his hands were.

Your own hands were squeezing at his shoulders before one moved into his soft hair while the other softly rested on his cheek.

The kiss was messy and desperate, teeth clinking together and tongues licking at each other.

The things that riled you up the most however were his groans and praises.

“you’re so fucking sexy” he groaned before moving down to kiss at your jaw and down your neck.

A needy whimper escaped from your throat when he started suckling the sensitive skin at the base of your throat.

“fuck-hyunjin” you moaned when his teeth grazed over your clavicle.

Your hands fumbled before landing on his belt, at which he pulled away from your skin, gently taking your hands off of his belt.

“I’d love to take you out first, actually” his pretty kiss swollen lips twitched up into a shy smile as he pants.

“oh” you were taken aback, you were almost certain that this was something regular for him “I thought-“

“I mean if you just want to fuck we can fuck of course” he chuckled “but- I actually think you’re really cute and fun and I’d love to get to know you better”

Your mouth stood a little agape “uh- I mean-I” you stuttered, your brain not functioning properly because of the alcohol running through your veins but also him!

“its okay if you just want, you know-“

“no!” you blurted out all over sudden, making him flinch a little “sorry, uhm- its just been a while since I had a date” you smile apologetically.

His expression visibly brightens “that’s okay” he giggled “so is that a yes?”

You grinned, leaning in to just barely brush your lips with his, his head twitching upwards in an attempt to connect them fully.

“yes” you whispered, at which he smiled brightly before pulling your in for a kiss by your neck.

-(flashback end)

“y/n”

“hey, y/n” you grumble when you feel someone gently rocking your shulder.

“mmm-what?” you peek your eyes open just to see hyunjin smile at you.

“good morning sunshine” he teases as you sit up in your seat when you realize you aren’t driving anymore.

“just kidding its not morning” he says as you look around your car, realizing your on a parking lot.

“where the fuck are we?” you whip your head towards him “did you bring me here to kill me? kidnap me?”

“wha?- no” he laughs “no, I’m sorry. Right after you fell asleep there was this huge traffic jam because of an accident and we stood there for almost 3 hours so I drove off and found this” he points out the rear window, where you see a small motel building.

You look back at him before checking the time on your phone, seeing it was indeed almost midnight.

“fuck” you swear to yourself.

“I didn’t know if you wanted to keep driving because I was getting tired so I thought maybe-“ hyunjin starts rambling guiltily, not wanting you to thing that this was an attempt to get in your pants.

“hey” you put your hand on his shoulder after taking off your seatbelt “this is good, you made the right decision I think we both could use some sleep” you say.

You each take your suitcases and walk inside, it’s an old building but it looks pretty clean for a motel off of the highway.

“good evening you two” an old lady sits behind the, probably just as old, reception.

“good evening, could we get 2 single rooms, please” hyunjin speaks up politely.

“I’m afraid we only have 2 double bed rooms available, if you’d like to take them, they will however be more expensive than the rooms for one” she explains politely.

“its okay, we’ll take one of those, please” you decide, hyunjins head snapping towards you.

“is that okay?” you ask him.

“yea- sure” he nods.

“alright, room 301 it is” she hands you the key before stating that you’ll have to checkout before 12 pm and what the room costs.

“do you accept card?” hyunjin asks at which the friendly old lady nods before taking his card and swiping it through her little machine.

“I’ll venmo you half of what you paid” you say after unlocking room 301.

He tsk’s at you before shaking his head “don’t, it was my idea so I’ll pay”

“are you sure?” you ask closing the door behind you when he turns on the lights.

“yup-oh” he exclaims.

“this room is cute” you say, it’s small but the walls are a soft sunflower yellow, decorated with paintings of autumn leaves .

The bed looks clean, and when you smell the mouse gray blankets and pillows, they smell fresh as well.

“stop smelling the pillows” hyunjin laughs.

“I’ve never been to a motel, I thought everything would be dirty or ancient” you confess comically.

He chuckles as he comes out of the small bathroom “the bathroom is clean too, don’t worry” he says when you look at him expectantly.

“I’ll sleep on the floor if you want” he offers as you open your suitcase to get out your toothbrush and pj’s.

“it’s fine, hyunjin I’ve slept in the same bed as a male before” you joke.

“well how am I supposed to know that?” he counters, at which you throw your pj shorts at him out of reflex.

When you realize what you had done it was too late, he was already holding them out in front of him before giggling.

“very cute choice” he mocks the small white shorts with red hearts all over it.

“stoop” you whine, trying to fish it out of his hands but he holds them over his head like a kindergartener.

“I remember why I don’t like you” you pout, crossing your arms.

His face drops alongside with his arms “I thought we were past that”

You use his moment of weakness to snatch your shorts out of his hands “gotcha”

“see I told you I was gonna take you out” hyunjin beams at you before looking down at the various snacks he took from the motels vending machine, which were laying in between the both of you on the bed.

“and so luxurious too” you joke, crossing your legs.

“only the best for you” he grins when you open a pack of fruit jellies.

“you know, I was thinking about new years” you say “ and I realized that it was your fault!”

Hyunjin throws his head back as he groans playfully “why?”

“if you hadn’t lost your phone when we got back downstairs, I wouldn’t have had to write my number on your arm; or you could’ve just given me your number and I could’ve text you. But you didn’t even know your own number!” you laugh in reminiscence.

“listen” he laughs “I was drunk and you’re hot! I couldn’t think” he defends himself before taking a bite off a chocolate bar.

You blush a little but play it off with a laugh.

“but yes, I admit, it was indeed my fault” he dramatically holds his hand in front of his eyes.

“yeeees!” you exclaim victoriously.

“I’m kidding though” you pat his knee “I forgive you”

“I’m glad” he smiles.

After the both of you are done eating way too many sweets, you find yourself being really comfortable when talking to hyunjin.

He’s funny, doesn’t seem like he’s full of himself and just in general seems like a very kind person.

“I thought you were a fuckboy when me met” you confess, looking at him.

Propped on one elbow looking down at you, while you lay on your side towards him, his face illuminated only by the little lights on each of your nightstands.

“you did?” he asks confusedly.

“yea” you chuckle “you were so confident and…sexy I don’t know” you place your hand over your face in embarrassment.

“oh that was the liquid courage talking, I’m usually pretty shy” he shakes his head smilingly when you peek through your fingers.

“don’t lie” you push his shoulder softly.

“I’m serious!” he laughs.

“you were the first guy to approach me at a party” you pause “like ever”

“no way, you’re lying now” he furrows his brows.

“nope” you shake your head.

“but I was really close to not talking to you as well, I’m sure there were many guys before me that just didn’t have the liquid courage, like I did” he speculates.

“maybe” you say.

“have any exes?” he asks after a few seconds.

“yea, one”

“well how did you meet him?”

“he showed me around on my first day of freshman year, I transferred like in the middle of the first semester so I wasn’t with any other freshmen” you tell him.

“why’d you break up if I may ask?” hyunjin asks carefully.

“oh we were only together for like three weeks, you can’t even call I relationship. He used me to make his hot ex jealous and cheated on me with her” you say “but hey they’re back together at least” you scoff.

“i’m sorry” he mumbles at which you look up at him.

“it’s not your fault” you chuckle.

“well, still no one should feel that way” he says “you know that you were way too good for him right?”

You nod.

“what about you? Have any exes?” you ask back.

He snickers “only one in seoul”

“why didn’t you last?”

“it was a long distance situation, she was super jealous and couldn’t trust me. which I can understand to a certain degree but everytime I went out she wanted me to facetime her and show her what kinds of people were there with me. That was just too much” he explains.

“wow” you chuckle “that doesn’t sound fun either”

Hyunjin shakes his head “nope, but hey we got rid of ‘em, didn’t we?”

“yea” you giggle “plus if I hadn’t broken up with him I would’ve probably never gone to the new years eve party”

“I guess I owe him something then” he grins as you scooch up on the bed.

“can I kiss you?” you ask after a few seconds of silence.

“hm?” hyunjins eyes almost spring out of his head.

“I don’t want to catch you off guard” you grin as you repeat his words from the night you met, sitting up.

He licks his lower lip as a grin stretches over his face as he sits up as well “do your worst”

You get up on your knees to shuffle over to him, when you get close enough hyunjin grabs one of your thighs and lifts it over his legs so you’re straddling him.

Once you sit down on his lap, your eyes lock again and you’re once again baffled as to how someone can be so god damn attractive.

His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips expectantly, a shaky breath leaving his lips when you lean in.

Your lips connect and it feels like all the pent up energy of liking him since that night finally gets set free, sparks glowing behind your lit and his hands leaving a trail of fire where ever they go.

They squeeze at your thighs and waist, pulling you impossibly close to himself.

A whimper tears from your throat when his tongue licks at yours, he tastes like chocolate and what could only be described as him.

He moans into the kiss when you tug at the blonde locks that weren’t pulled back into the ponytail; before pulling the hair tie out of his hair to free it and finally card your fingers through all of the blonde glory.

Before you realize what’s going on, hyunjin lifts the both of you before dropping you on your back and crawling above you.

The fact that he just lifted the both of you from a sitting position as if you weigh nothing makes you feel all types of hot.

“you’re so hot holy shit” you pant as you push his long hair out of his face.

“ditto” he only grins before attaching his lips to your exposed collarbone and sucking a bruise into the skin.

“take it off” you moan as you tug on the dark blue calvin klein shirt he’s wearing.

His lips release the skin of your collarbone before sitting up to pull the shirt over his head.

If your mouth wasn’t already open from your heavy breathing, you would’ve opened it now because his body is more sculpted and toned than you had expected.

Your hand lifts to smooth over his abs, muscles flexing as he connects your lips again.

His one hand slides from your waist up to cup one of your breasts, gently palming the soft flesh.

“I know I said I wanted to take you out first but-“ he mumbles against your lips.

“you bought me a lovely dinner” you interrupt him, threading your fingers through the hair that’s falling down into his vision.

He grins, dropping a short peck to your lips before his the grin gets wiped off his face “I don’t have a condom with me”

“I’m on the pill” you let him know “I got tested before the lockdown and I haven’t been with anyone since soo…”

“yea, me too, I was tested a few months ago” he nods.

You nod back, biting your lip as you absently play with his hair.

“do you trust me?” hyunjin asks, observing your demeanour.

“yea- yea I do I’m just nervous” you smile awkwardly.

“no” he coos before kissing you “why are you nervous?”

“just haven’t been with anyone for a while” you confess.

Hyunjin nods understandingly “if you don’t want to do this we’ll stop”

“no I really want to” you look into his eyes as confidently as you can.

“okay” he smiles, planting his lips on yours again.

“can i?” his voice gives you goosebumps when he mumbles against the sensitive skin under your ear, his fingers slowy undoing the loose knot of your heart shorts.

“yes” you say when he locks eyes with you.

“I love these shorts” he softly presses a kiss to your knee, trying to calm your nerves a little, before he gently rocks your hips to pull them off of you.

You blush a little out of embarrassment but smile when you lift your hips to help him.

“cute” he whispers when he see’s your panties have a little bow on the front.

He chuckles when you hide your face in embarrassment, pulling you closer to him again by your thighs before you let him kiss you again.

“can I take this off too?” hyunjin whispers, softly pulling at the fabric of the tank top you’re wearing, at which you nod.

You are still wearing a bra when he pulls it off so you take it into your own hands and unclasp your bra.

Your nipples stiffen a little at the sudden exposure to air, as well as to hyunjin’s admiring gaze.

“fuck” he muses when palming your breasts in his big hands, gently pushing them together an running his thumbs over your nipples.

A whimper involuntarily leaves your lips when he wraps his plump lips around one of the perked up nubs and sucks gently.

“so fucking pretty, princess” you feel yourself pathetically clench around nothing at his praise.

You feel one of his hands wander downwards to provide some friction for you, he slots his lips against yours when you tentatively roll your hips against his hand.

Hyunjin feels his cock get even harder when an almost desperate moan tumbles from your lips against his. So he ads a little more pressure and starts circling your clit with two fingers, your sighs of pleasure mixing into the kiss.

“you’re so sensitive baby” he whispers as he parts his lips from yours “can I go down on you?” he grazes his lips over your chest, looking up at you seductively.

You nod as you bite your lip, hyunjin placing a few kisses on your tummy before shortly sitting up to also free you from your soaked panties.

The first stripe he licks up your slit, and how he swirls the tip of his tongue around your clit expertly sends you to heaven.

His hands are gripping your thighs to prevent you from closing your legs, your hands are tangled in his hair and the sheets.

“hyunj-fuck” you cry out when his tongue enters you.

He carefully prods one finger at your entrance “is that okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse and dripping with lust.

“yea” you sigh.

Once you adjust to one finger, he adds a second one, curling them upwards to search for that specific patch inside of you.

“yes-fuck right there” you moan when his fingers press onto the sweetest spot inside of you, tugging at his hair a little harshly. But you feel him moan against you, getting lost in your taste as he sucks your clit in between his soft lips.

Your hips buckle against his mouth as your eyes roll backwards, feeling the warmth of your orgasm approach rapidly.

“fuck fuck yes-hyunjin” you cry out just before he tipped you over the edge with his skillful ministration, your orgasm rushing up your spine and into your head, endorphins spreading everywhere.

A cry of pleasure fills the room as your thighs starts trembling with the aftershocks, clamping around his head when he drives you into overstimulation.

“oh-shit-“ you pant as you softly pushed on his forehead to get him away from your clit, his fingers still inside you, guiding you through your high.

He nibbles on your inner thigh apologetically. You can still hear your heartbeat in your ears after hyunjin removes his fingers from you and sits up, gently holding your legs together to help you calm down.

“fuck” you mewl, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

He’s wanted to do this for so long and there you are, with all of your naked glory in front of him.

While he’s daydreaming about you, you sit up and start fiddling with his sweatpants.

“you want more?” he quips, once he realises what you’re doing, leaning in to kiss you.

“mhm” you humm into the kiss affirmitavely when his hand holds you close to him by your jaw.

With a quick last peck to your lips he simultaneously shimmies the soft black sweats and his boxers off of himself.

You apparently visibly gulp at the sight of his cock because hyunjin smirks cockily “like what you see?” as he crawls above you again, his lips finding yours again and not waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know if you’ll fit” you mumble when he suckles at the soft nook of skin under your ear.

“we can stop here” he offers softly before locking eyes again.

You shake your head as you reach down to fist his length, slowly pumping it and smearing the few drops of precum around.

“no, you’re just really big” you huff with a shy smile on your lips at which hyunjin groans.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, you know?” he mutters against your lips before kissing you deeply, his hand smoothing over the slope of your waist before coming up to gently pinch at one of your nipples.

Eliciting a soft high pitched moan from you, this only spurs him on.

Rolling his tongue against yours desperately and making you taste yourself before sinfully sucking at the wet muscle.

All the while you’re stroking him with your small hand before cupping his balls, as if he didn’t already feel like he’s gonna blow his load way too early.

“please” you whine, guiding his reddened tip towards your entrance.

Hyunjin releases a shaky breath before replacing your hand with his, rutting his hips against yours a few times, coating his length in your wetness.

This already had your toes curling, suppressing a whine as you lock your legs around his waist.

“tell me if it hurts, yea?” he breathes, only pressing inside you after you nod, dropping a kiss to your swollen lips.

“fuck” he swears softly, tucking his face in the crook of your neck when he breaches your tight walls for the first time.

Your fingers tighten in his hair at the back of his neck when a subtle sting flares up inside of you.

“ah-“ your body flinches a little when he presses further inside, hyunjin notices, observing your expression before kissing your cheek and sitting up slowly.

“you’re doing so good, baby” he lifts his thumb to his lips, swiftly kitten-licking the digit before bringing it to where your bodies join.

Gently rolling your clit under his thumb to distract you from the pain.

“you look so perfect like this” his other hand travels over your stomach to gently squeeze at your breasts “all spread out for me”

You whimper, arching your back when hyunjin thrusts into you carefully; the pain slowly subsiding and the ache to be fully filled up by him growing exponentially when his cock rubs against your g spot.

“hyunjin” you moan, gripping onto his hand, which is resting atop your breast.

“yes baby, I’m here” he groans at how tight you feel once he’s balls deep inside of you, abandoning your clit to grab you by the hips for leverage.

His other hand resting on your cheek now, after a few trusts you moan “harder, please”

Hyunjin groans and fulfils your wish, at one particularly harsh thrust, you latch your lips around his pointer and middle finger, sucking at them.

“oh my god-that’s so fucking hot” he grunts through clenched teeth.

His cock dragging along your walls deliciously, filling you up to the brim as you hum around his slender fingers in pleasure.

“you like my hands that much baby?” his jaw is clenched and the grip on your waist is rough , the contrast to how sweet he was just a few minutes earlier had you clench around him furiously.

“fuck-“ he breathes when you nod to the best of your abilities, eyes wide open and holding his gaze.

You only release his fingers from in between your lips in favour for a loud high pitched moan when his other hand finds your clit again, rubbing harsh circles into the bud.

“-gonna cum-huynjin” you dig your nails into his biceps, eyes squeezing shut.

“yea?” he grits through his teeth the fingers that were previously trapped in your mouth now wrapping around your bared throat.

Not squeezing tightly, just resting there as if to show you that you’re his now.

Your thought gets confirmed when he rasps “you’re gonna date me after this, right pretty girl?”

You do look so pretty right now, tits bouncing and skin slapping because of the fast rhythm that he’s snapping his hips into yours, not to mention the subtle sheen of sweat that’s coating the both of you.

A desperate breathy chuckle tumbles from your lips “ yes-yes fuck” you feel your second orgasm creeping up on you.

“cum for me princess, all over my cock” he urges you on, his tip hammering into the sweet spot inside of you repeatedly before you crash into your second high of the night.

Your body convulses in pleasure as you call out his name mixed with profanities, your toes curling so hard you’re not sure if you can ever uncurl them again, and your nails probably leaving painful indents in his skin.

His thumb on your clit slows down until you grab his hand for him to stop, his hand around your neck grabs your free one, holding both of your hands over your head now.

“so good, baby” he mumbles, kissing your lips; mostly just breathing into each other as he rocks you through every wave of your orgasm.

Hyunjin looses himself in you not long after with a guttural moan and his eyes squeezing shut.

You coax him through it when he rests his face against your neck again, running your fingertips through his damp hair and over his broad back, muscles tensing under your gentle touch.

i“don’t fall asleep on me” you whisper sneakily, grinning when he chuckles against your neck, tickling the soft skin there.

He props himself up again to scan over your features, pushing some hair out of your face before kissing you tenderly.

“you okay?” his hand resting at your temple as he gently runs his thumb over your hairline.

“more than” you assure him, cupping his cheeks to pull his lips onto yours again.You think you can never get enough of his lips, anything about him for that matter; not when he makes you feel so cared about and safe.

“so does this mean we’re dating now?” he whispers after he has cleaned you up and tucked the both of you in bed.

“hmh” you nod your head sleepily, positioned on his bare chest.

“so I can spoon you once we fall asleep?” he asks, grin evident in his voice.

“you can spoon me but you can’t wake me up in the middle of the night if you get horny” you mumble jokingly, enjoying his fingers running down your spine as your eyelids get heavier.

“okay” he giggles softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before you whisper your good nights to each other.

And as promised, he doesn’t wake you up in the middle of the night because he’s horny.

It’s you who wakes him, because after 10 months of wasted time, you have a lot of catching up to do.

a/n: oml this is my first ever long fic so pls pls pls give me feedback, i had so much fun writing his even though it made me feel even more single but hey :))))

allsooo i waited til after work to publish this and i just saw i hit 500 followers?!?!?! thats crazy to me omg i started this like 2 months ago and so many ppl liked my stuff so much that they decided to follow me?? so i just wanna say thank u thank u thank u for hitting the follow button even though im very unorganized and everything i do is spontaneaous and not thought out well. but hey i guess there is a reason that u followed me so thank u!

(i’d love if u sent me an ask with the first one of my writings that u stumbled across, and how <3 ...only if u want tho no pressure)

anyways thank u so much for reading if you’ve made it this far! i hope you have a great day/ night! much love

-aj

(this is a work of fiction and does not represent the real actions of stray kids or hwang hyunjin)

#omgaaaaa im finally done writing this oof it took forever but it was so much fun #thank u for reading my loves #and dont forget ur beautiful and loved and drink water #ily #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin oneshot #straykids smut #stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin e2l #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin college!au #big dick hyunjin #skskksks im sorry #i guess this is my 500 followers special lol #idk ahh ill add more tags later my brain be empty its late okay hahajajss

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miyaniacs · 3 years ago

Text

PROLOGUE

NAVIGATION

summary: Reader: female; 20 years old ; Apparently you know something… but what this something is you still got to find out.

But curses, good and bad sorcerer now want to get you into their hands.

Ending up in the hands of the good ones, y/n finally meets her old best friend again - Yuji. Now Yuji and his friends make it their mission to keep you save in this whole new world. Days turn into weeks and you become closer and closer to your ‚bodyguards‘

Warnings: blood & not proof read bc I’m lazy

A/N: feedback & reblogs are welcome, especially since this is a new fic / story form I’m trying to do ^^ I hope you’ll like my lil attempt to give you all a jjk otome ‘game’ haha tell me if any of you wanna be tagged ^^

Cold air blows into your face as you exit the library. Looking up at the stars, you sigh. You‘ve lost track in time studying for your finals. It’s your third semester now and depending on how you’ll succeed in your finals, you either get a step closer to getting your dream job or all the semesters were for nothing.

Yuji always joked about you wanting to get rich, to help him succeed going on a date with one of his famous crushes… well with a certain one.

“Yuji - how would you be able to suddenly appear right in front of Jennifer Lawrence and save her from a monster - IF you don’t have the money to appear in whatever country she’s in?”

“And you’d give me the money??”

“That’s what your sugar mommy is for right?”

“In no where - NEVER - you’ll pass as a sugar mommy!”

“Lemme get that cash and the clothes and you’ll see.”

So here you are, trying your best to get an A in your business class to be able to turn the 2 weeks internship at Zenin Enterprise into a one year one and hopefully a job after graduating.

‘I’ll show you Yuji- you’ll get a check in your mail someone …’ you think.

Even though you haven’t seen him that much after the incident in your high school, you still texted every day and somehow managed to see each other about three times a year. At first you were pissed, because he didn’t tell you what he was up to and why he changed schools - but you leaned to accept it, he was still your best friend and nothing would change that.

Walking over the campus you make your way towards the train station smiling when you see Yujis name pop up on your screen.

“Hey hey Yuu~” you smile as you pick up the phone.

“Y/n! Where are you right now?” He asks, panic lacing in his voice.

“Just got out of the library, why what’s up?” You ask, your bows furrow a bit.

“Get back inside. Now. Immediately.!” He scream shouts.

“Yuji why- my last train arrives in a few minutes.” You whine, but stopped walking.

“Trust me Y/n. Please.” He begs, “I’ll be there in a few minutes!”

“Okay okay- is it because of the thing you can’t tell me about?” You turn around and start jogging back towards the library.

“Yes.” he says.

“Okay I trust you, I’ll be in the library in ab- AHHHHHHHHH”

“Y/N - Y/N TALK TO ME - Y/N!!!”

“THERE IS SOMETHING COMING CLOSER - YUJI WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE A MONSTER”

“NO NO NOOO RUN - RUN NOW!”

And you start running, this thing comes closer and closer, you can hear it’s steps getting faster and faster.

Your legs move faster than you thought they could, mentally your thankful for forcing yourself to go to the gym regularly.

Yet the thing gets closer.

You can now hear it’s breath, feel it in your neck.

All the small hairs on your skin turn up and tears stream down your face.

“Y/NNN!!!” You head Yujis voice coming closer from the distance.

“YUJI I AM HERE - HELP ME!!” You cry out.

Suddenly something slimy wraps around your ankle and you fall flat in the ground.

Screaming out in pain, you feel yourself getting dragged over the hard ground, some sharp claws digging into the flesh of your leg. Feeling the blood run down your leg, you try to grab anything and everything your hands can reach to stop the monster to … to eat you?

Your finger tips get bloody while you try to desperately hold onto the asphalt, just to feel your body getting dragged further away from panicked voice of your best friend.

Then - you stopped moving.

The force that dragged you away stopped. Turning around you see the lifeless arm of that thing hanging on your lap, but the rest of it is still moving, with one arm missing.

A blond haired man stands in front of you, some sort of short sword in one hand. He glanced over his shoulder, “Why are you still here? Run!” He says in a way too calm voice.

Trying your best, you try to get up, flinching as you now feel all the wounds on your body.

Your left leg, with the arm still hanging on it, collapses again and again whenever you try to put some pressure on it.

Something soft nudged your leg and pushes onto the arm. Looking down you see… a dog? Or a wolf? You’re not quite sure but whatever it is- it helps you getting that thing off.

“This takes way too long.” You hear someone saying and in a matter of seconds your thrown over the shoulder from some guy, you think you’ve seen someone during your FaceTime chats with Yuji.

“Care to help us?” He says to a white haired man with a blindfold on.

“Mhhh… no. I think you students should be able to finish this thing alone.” He smiles brightly, yet the man carrying you clearly seems annoyed. “But you can leave her with me, I’ll take care of her ~”

A silent scream escapes your lips, as the men sets you down, rather … rough, causing you to put pressure on your injured leg.

“Megumi! Haven’t I taught you how to treat a women!” The white haired male sighs and puts a hand on his forehead, shaking his head dramatically.

“This isn’t some sort of joke.” The blond one, that practically saved you from the monster, walks over to you.

“Well… the curse is tho - we thought they’d send something strong to get her, judging by who badly everyone seems to get her - but no. They sent this joke.” He gestures towards the monster, which is now surrounded by three younger looking men.

The one that carried you, another white haired one, with the neck of this jacked turned upwards and … Yuji!

Your eyes lit up the second you recognize your best friend.

He meets your eyes and a small smile appearance on his face, no wait… his mouth shouldn’t be there … why is it on his cheek?

You blink a few times, but his mouth now seems to be as normal as it can be.

The blood loos probably got to your head.

Right blood!

Looking down you see the blood still running down your leg. Reaching down, you touch the wound, regretting it the second you did so.

“Hey, wait, I get some first aid bandages out of the car.” The blond one says in a calming voice, gently grabbing your hand and guiding it away from your wound.

“Sooo you’re the girl Yuji always talks about?” the white haired men asks and tilts his head to the right, the index finger of his left hand tapping against his chin.

“Uhm.. I guess? He’s my best friend…so..” you mumble. How is he having such a normal conversation with you, when Yuji and the others are fighting this thing just a few meters away?!

“Huh… haven’t thought he’d be able to have such pretty friends.” The male mumbles.

“Excuse me?!” Your head snaps towards him and you glare at his covered eyes. “SHOULDNT YOU BE HELPING THEM?!” You gesture over to the three.

“Nahhh - they can handle it - but they are taking way too long - I was really lacking on training them.” He sighs and shakes his head.

You watch as the white haired man standing next to Yuji opens his zipper and says something- suddenly the monster collapses.

“About time.” The calming voice of the blond haired man echos through the now quiet campus.

“Here sit down.” He points to a bank and helps you sit down.

Carefully he cuts off the ripped leg of your jeans and gently places a tissue on your leg, trying to clean it up.

“Okay, I’m sorry if this hurts now, but I got to make sure that it won’t get infected.” He says and puts something to sanitize your wounds on the tissue.

“Y/N!!!!” Yuji screams and runs over to you.

“Yuj- AHHHHH” You head looks over to the blond male.

“Sorry.” He mumbles.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry I’m so so sorry!!” Yuji sits down next to you and takes one of your hands on his.

“It’s not your fault.” You smile gently at him, trying to ignore the pain.

“How did you know that I was in danger?” You ask and look around.

“We heard from many sources that basically everyone was looking for a girl named ‘Y/n.’ - Yuji quickly figured out that it was you they were looking for. “ the blond says and wraps a bandage around your leg.

“Now we want to know why.” The white man says and towers over you.

“How should I know. I don’t even know what this thing was- neither do I know what you are??” You start rambling. The shock finally leaves your body and the realization hits you. “WHAT WAS THIS MONSTER ?!” You screech.

“Hey, it was not as gorgeous as I am, but we’re not monsters.” A deep voice comes from Yuji. Confused you look towards him.

“Shut up!” Yuji says and slaps a hand over his cheek. But then a mouth appears on the back of his hand.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” You scream and jump up, almost kicking the blond male who was still holding your leg.

“I CAN EXPLAIN!!” Yuji panics, “SUKUNA SHUT UP AND LEAVE US ALONE.”

“IS THIS WHY YOU COULDN’T TELL ME WHATS UP WITH YOU?!”

“Yes …” he looks down, “It was all… well … difficult to explain to you so I just chose not to.” He looks up at you with his puppy eyes and you sigh. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I hate you.” You sit down again and lean against his shoulder. Putting an arm around you he leans his head on yours.

“I know … I know.”

“Okay cool- but again. What do they want from you?” The black haired guy says and his piercing green eyes seem to try to read your mind.

“I - I don’t know. I haven’t known about all of this until now.”

“Tuna, rice.” The white hair male, who now has the zipper up again, says.

“Agreed … she at least was able to see the curse.” The other white haired male says.

Your face should clearly show the confusion, but it seems as if everyone just ignores it.

“Did anything happened the past weeks? … anything strange?” The blond one asks and stands up, adjusting his glasses.

“No… not really… my boss acted strange yesterday - well he always does - when he gave me some packet to personally give to someone.”

“What packet? How big was it?” The black haired asks.

“Uhhh I thought there was some expensive watch in." You look around confused. Everyone looks over to Yuji.

“Why? What’s wrong?” You look around.

“Who did you give the packet to?” Yuji asks.

“No one actually… The male wasn’t there, so I took it with me - I planned on giving it back to him tomorrow.” You stutter.

“Who’s your boss?” The white haired one asks.

“Naoya Zenin - I got an internship being his secretary.”

Everyone stares at you now.

“You’re coming with us.” The white haired one grabs your hand.

“Nanami - you and Yuji go to her home! Find that packet - if it’s still there.” He looks over to the blond male, before addressing you again. “Anything else you heard or saw before he gave you this packet?”

“Uhm… I overheard him talking to a man… “ you stutter and he grabs your hand, dragging you with him.

“With who? What did they say?”

“I - I don’t know…” you whisper.

“Then REMEMBER!” He says in a harsh tone.

“I DONT KNOW - HE LOOKED STRANGE …” you scream, annoyed the way he dragged you with him.

“Well until you know, you be staying with us.”

TAGLIST (open): @laceymorganwrites

#jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #jjk oneshots #gojo x reader #toji x reader #jjk smau #jjk imagines #sukuna x reader #megumi x reader

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voiceless-terror · 4 years ago

Note

would you consider writing me some precanon jongeorgie angst. bc i imagine they probably bonded over their interest in the supernatural but never. you know. actually talked about their personal experiences/trauma. just give me a little of both of them handling that trauma very badly while never admitting their closest brush with the supernatural. or something. idk.

Hello anon! I haven’t written Jon/Georgie yet, but this prompt was too good to pass up. Hope you like!

Being with Georgie was easy. It shouldn’t have been, not for him.

But it was.

She carried herself with the utmost surety: of her opinions, of her feelings, of her place in the world. It wasn’t arrogance, more like confidence and something else Jon couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was a blankness in her eyes sometimes. Not an absence of feeling but an absence of...understanding, maybe. Of empathy. Georgie saw the world in black and white; she knew exactly what was right and what was wrong. She was blunt. She bulldozed over others in conversations, pointed out flaws that polite society knew to overlook and not name. Jon admired it, as much as it made him cringe.

But it was complemented by her fierce capacity for loving, her clever, teasing words, the way her fingers ran through his hair when he was stressed. That black and white view could quiet his mind like no other- ‘yes, Jon’, ‘no, Jon.’ She listened to his incessant rambling, nodding in the right places and adding her own commentary. She filled out the crosswords in the morning, her brow furrowed in concentration, colorful nails tapping at the table. She never wanted help, stubborn to a fault. Her dark skin ethereal in the morning light, the way her voice was low and croaky before her coffee. The ease with which she said ‘I love you.’

He remembered the day she first approached him, all ripped-tights and smudged, smoky eyeshadow. Just leaned against the wall on that chilly fall night and snatched the cigarette right from his hand, an eyebrow flicked upward as she took a drag. He couldn’t get a word out, just silently took her phone when she offered it and typed in a number with shaking hands. A year later and she was still that same girl, though he’d seen her stash of manga and her weird cat memorabilia. She was whole, real. It was comfortable.

“I’m not really sure if I should go.” They’re curled up on the couch, Jon leaning into the warm bulk of her. “All of the others are going, though.”

“It’s not like you’re close, right?” Jon’s petting the Admiral, the new addition to the household fitting in seamlessly. “I’m sure she won’t take it as an insult. You can always say you’re busy. Who was it, again? Her father?”

“Yeah.” Georgie’s shifting against him, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. It’s odd- she’s not usually so awkward about these things. If there’s something she doesn’t want to talk about, she shuts it down right away. This seems...different. “And no, not close. But everyone else is going- they want to show their support, I guess. It would be awkward if I didn’t.”

Perhaps Georgie didn’t like funerals. You’re not supposed to, of course. Maybe it was a phobia, a perfectly valid one. Plenty of people don’t like to see the reminder of death laid out before them. Jon’s been to a few in his lifetime- for his Gran’s friend, for a distant cousin.

For his parents.

He doesn’t remember his father’s, he might not have even gone. He was only two at the time. He distantly remembers his mother’s; it wasn’t well attended, he sat in the front row with his Gran. He doesn’t even remember crying, if he even realized the thing in the box was his mother, dead and gone.

Needless to say, he understands Georgie’s sentiments. “You don’t have to go, not if...not if you don’t like it. Plenty of people are uncomfortable with death-” This was the wrong thing to say, for Georgie tensed instantly, leaning away from him.

“That’s not it at all,” she says, snatching her legs out from where Jon’s leaning comfortable against them. “It’s- it’s the performance of it all. All those people standing around a body, sniffling and moaning-”

Jon tried for levity, bristling at her tone. “People grieve, they need closure-”

Georgie snorted, this time shoving him away on the couch, the Admiral jumping from Jon’s lap at the movement. Her words became impassioned, as if Jon needed to know, needed to understand. “Cremate them, then! Say a few words, scatter the ashes, whatever. But having the body on display like that?” She gets up, starts to pace. Jon’s never seen her like this. “Paint the corpse, dress it up, pretend it’s a person still but it’s not, and everyone’s just standing there around it, praying over it and watching it like it’s not just rotting meat you put lipstick on-”

“Georgie!”

“I can’t stand it.” She stops in front of him, chest heaving and eyes aflame. “What’s so monumental about it? We live, we die- and her father was old, it was bound to happen sometime. No need to make such a to-do. It’s- it’s just disgusting, is what it is.” She didn’t continue, and an awkward silence permeated the room.

Georgie got worked up about things on occasion. But the wild look in her eye, the total sense of incomprehension was...disconcerting. He agreed with her on certain points, of course, but the vehemence behind them- something wasn’t right. But it didn’t feel right to pry, either, and Georgie surely wouldn’t appreciate it.

“You could just say you’re busy, you don’t have to go,” he tries tentatively. She seems to deflate where she stands, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. So he stands up, taking her hand in his. She lets him, but doesn’t meet his eyes. “But if you do, I can come with you. If you’d like.”

They stand in the very back row of the church after awkwardly greeting her grieving coworker. Georgie’s nails dig painfully into his arm, but he says nothing. They leave after ten minutes and stop at an Indian buffet on the way home. He silently watches her dig into a curry, his own untouched.

___________

When she first met Jon, she thought he was utterly out of her league.

It was her first semester back at school, she was an absolute fucking mess- drinking at all hours, barely present in her classes. She was out at the bar with a few new friends, most of whom she’d already forgotten the names of, and saw him standing there under a single flickering lamp, a cigarette dangling from long, slender fingers, raven hair back in a messy bun. Not many people could pull that off but he looked almost effortlessly cool (a thing she’d later find laughable for ever thinking) in his dingy leather jacket, his eyes far away and shadowed. She wondered what made him lose sleep. He had an odd, crooked little smile on his face and she was filled with liquid courage. The look he gave her when she took that cigarette out of his hand made her knees weak, and he took the proffered phone like he was only a little impressed. She sent a text to his phone and left, so embarrassed she went straight home.

He never did text her. To be fair, she never expected him to.

But she found him not two days later, hunched over a table in the campus library. She did a double take- surely this couldn’t be him, her impossibly handsome, silent figure who she surely dreamed up. But there was no mistaking that hair, those eyes. He was smaller, somehow diminished in his baggy jumper and wire-rimmed glasses, tapping a pencil against his textbook in irritation. Before she knew it she found herself picking up her phone, sending a text to the number with no name. And sure enough, his phone buzzed.

They went out on their first date a day later.

Jon was a ball of nerves, awkward and not at all like the man she thought she met that night. Somehow, the real Jon was better. She liked the way he blushed and stammered, the way a touch of her hand left him flustered and unable to speak. The way he could talk for hours about nothing at all, making even the most dull of subjects seem interesting with that voice of his- a voice surely meant for radio or T.V., something Jon himself endlessly scoffed at whenever she brought it up. They would sit in front of the telly for hours, marathoning ridiculous ghost hunting shows and pointing out the obvious fakes. Jon had a weakness for ghost stories, just like she did. “Most of them are absolute drivel, of course,” he said.

Most of them.

They found comfort in each other, their small island of two, had no need for other company. Georgie had never been able to relate to someone so well, not since Alex, and Jon was never fond of crowds. Three months in he tried to break up with her, saying he could never give her what ‘she needed’ but she stopped that in its tracks- Georgie would be the one who decided what she did and didn’t need, thank you very much. She liked the way he leaned into her on movie nights, like her touch was the only thing that mattered. The sincerity in his eyes whenever he complimented her in that earnest, awkward way of his. He challenged her when he thought she was wrong, sometimes their fights lasted days. But they always came back to one another, each knowing they had no one else who understood them. Was it healthy? Georgie couldn’t answer that, she didn’t know herself. Jon probably didn’t either. But she loved him, in her way.

That night they have a few glasses of wine, and Jon’s regaling her with some ridiculous story from his youth- apparently he was somewhat of a delinquent, wandering about at all hours. She laughs in delight, imagining a small, serious Jon climbing fences and evading the law. But suddenly Jon stops, his eyes going wide and his face growing ashen as he stares unblinking at the table.

It’s a spider- a tiny thing, really. Georgie’s been seeing a lot of them lately, and she really should be better about dusting the place. But Jon- Jon looks absolutely terrified, like the thing’s bound to leap out and kill him. She opens her mouth to tease, an instinctive reaction, but is instead startled by the loud smack of a hand against the table. Jon had smashed it certainly, but he lifts his hand and stares at it in wide-eyed horror, as if whatever he sees is nine times worse than the original thing.

“Jon-”

The chair hits the ground as he stumbles to her bathroom with heavy, labored breathing. She gets up slowly, approaching as quietly as possible to find him hyperventilating against the sink, the faucet on full blast as he washes his hand- scratches it, really. He’s mumbling frantically under his breath.

“...so many legs, get off, get off-”

She makes her presence known as not to startle him, approaching from the side and gently wrapping a hand around his arm once she sees him drawing blood. He starts anyway, his movements jerky and frenzied as he rips his arm away like her touch burns.

“It’s just a spider Jon,” she says softly, lifting her hands to show she means no harm. “It’s okay, you got it, it’s dead now-”

“But what if it isn’t!” He spits, slamming his hands on the marble rim of the sink and leaving bloody prints in his wake. He’s breathing so fast she thinks he might pass out. “What if it isn’t?”

She has no answer to that.

It takes about two hours, a hot shower and a stiff drink for him to calm down. They lay on the couch, watching something stupid, mind-numbing. She runs her fingers through his hair. He always liked that. She doesn’t say a word, he’s exhausted, and she knows from experience that pushing him will just lead to another fit like before. The next day, he brings her Hungarian by way of apology. They eat in a more comfortable silence, Jon gradually warming up as the evening goes on. Still, she doesn’t ask.

She spends the weekend cleaning her flat, standing on a chair and vacuuming at the cobwebs.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440474

#my writing #prompt fill #the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #georgie barker #jongeorgie #precanon #angst #bit of a relationship study idk what you'd call that #Anonymous

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3 word count: 8.7k

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him.

And then winter comes.

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years.

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household.

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute.

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets.

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick.

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house.

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable.

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold.

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him.

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional.

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.”

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before.

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again.

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty.

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house.

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions.

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever.

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through.

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times.

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner.

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong.

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor

You blink.

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago.

Oh, so this was new.

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on.

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again.

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy.

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning.

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest.

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you.

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck.

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss.

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?”

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck.

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest.

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck.

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds.

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy.

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side.

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again.

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip.

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers.

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct.

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip.

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt.

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery.

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again.

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him.

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored.

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately.

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth.

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again.

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate.

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear.

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum.

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad.

So you do.

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.”

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm.

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes.

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth.

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet.

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves.

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that.

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t.

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him.

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully.

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed.

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight.

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off.

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly.

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you.

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face.

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch.

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble.

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?”

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls.

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy.

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully.

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip.

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite.

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely.

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why.

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now.

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months.

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—”

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions.

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing.

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss.

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat.

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss.

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty.

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off.

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up.

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good.

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading.

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds.

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it.

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan.

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...”

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick.

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you.

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you.

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his.

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.”

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks.

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt.

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips.

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.”

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin.

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm.

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you.

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success.

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself.

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell.

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle.

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out.

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart.

To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death.

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying.

It fits perfectly.

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #goldenclosetnet #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jjk♡#jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #mine

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years ago

Text

Glass House

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

I got people blamin' me for shit they did to me

Lots of people shamin' me for shit they didn't see

So point the finger, pull the trigger, throw them off your trail

You're diggin' me my grave, but keep the shovel nearby

Dig your own right next to mine

I got people sayin' take an eye for an eye

I just turn the other cheek cause you ain't worth my time

'Cause you see in black and white

But there's more than just wrong and right

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Summary: Lines start to blur between wrong and right as you and Draco try to make it through the first semester of sixth year alive. Can you both keep up the charade long enough to survive? Can laughter and smiles hide what’s lurking underneath?

A/n: Y’all know what’s up. I’m so excited for this chapter honestly because there is so much character growth in our power duo as well as side characters and ugh I would die for Pansy. Also, I haven’t quite decided what to do with Snape yet... I don’t really hate him, not that I particularly like him either. Anyway, let me know what you think! I love seeing all of your comments you have absolutely no idea!! Stay strong and always keep fighting: this chapter deals with some dark stuff. I hope that you all see how to find a ray of sunshine in the midst of hell by reading this. ((I also cleaned up my taglist and got rid of the ones that tumblr wasn’t letting me tag anymore, so if I accidentally deleted you, lmk and I’ll add you back!! And Tumblr still isn’t allowing me to add a lot of you and I’m sorry ://// It’s not that I don’t love you bc I’m trying here))

Prologue:

“Cissy, you must not do this, you can’t trust him —”

“The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn’t he?” Narcissa snapped back at her sister.

“The Dark Lord is . . . I believe . . . mistaken,” Bella panted, and her eyes gleamed momentarily under her hood as she looked around to check that they were indeed alone. “In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord’s —”

“Let go, Bella!” Narcissa snarled, and she drew a wand from beneath her cloak, holding it threateningly in her sister’s face. Bella merely laughed.

“Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn’t —”

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do anymore!” Narcissa breathed, a note of hysteria in her voice, and as she brought down the wand like a knife, there was another flash of light. Bella let go of her sister’s arm as though burned.

“Narcissa!”

But Narcissa had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, Bellatrix followed again, keeping her distance now. At last, Narcissa hurried up a street named Spinner’s End, over which the towering mill

She had knocked on the door before Bella, cursing under her breath, had caught up. Together they stood waiting, panting slightly, breathing in the smell of the dirty river that was carried to them on the night breeze. After a few seconds, they heard movement behind the door, and it opened a crack.

A sliver of a man could be seen looking out at them, a man with long black hair parted in curtains around a sallow face and black eyes.

Narcissa threw back her hood.

“Narcissa!” said the man, opening the door a little wider, so that the light fell upon her and her sister. “What a pleasant surprise!

“Severus,” she said in a strained whisper. “May I speak to you? It’s urgent.”

“But of course.” He stood back to allow her to pass him into the house, Bellatrix following suit.

“Snape,” she said curtly as she passed him.

“Bellatrix,” he replied, his thin mouth curling into a slightly mocking smile as he closed the door with a snap behind them.

Snape gestured Narcissa to the sofa. She threw off her cloak, cast it aside, and sat down, staring at her white and trembling hands clasped in her lap. Bellatrix lowered her hood more slowly.

“So, what can I do for you?” Snape asked, settling himself in the armchair opposite the two sisters.

“We . . . we are alone, aren’t we?” Narcissa asked quietly. He nodded in confirmation.

“Severus, I’m sorry to come here like this, but I had to see you. I think you are the only one who can help me I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing to anyone, but —” Narcissa rushed out, her words stumbling over each other.

“Then you ought to hold your tongue!” snarled Bellatrix. “Particularly in present company!”

“‘Present company’?” repeated Snape sardonically. “And what am I to understand by that, Bellatrix?”

“That I don’t trust you, Snape, as you very well know!”

Narcissa let out a noise that might have been a dry sob and covered her face with her hands. Snape set his glass down upon the table and sat back again, his hands upon the arms of his chair, smiling into Bellatrix’s glowering face.

“Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it will save tedious interruptions. Well, continue, Bellatrix,” said Snape. “Why is it that you do not trust me?”

Narcissa tuned the bickering pair out as her thoughts started to spiral again. Draco consumed her psyche and in turn so did Y/n. They were woven together in fate as she and Lucius were and

Narcissa was sure of the matter. It seemed like eons had passed since Narcissa found herself in Y/n’s shoes, and she knew that somewhere she had failed watching her love turn into a monster and she did not wish the same fate upon her son.

“That was not my fault!” said Bellatrix, flushing. “The Dark Lord has, in the past, entrusted me with his most precious — if Lucius hadn’t —”

“Don’t you dare — don’t you dare blame my husband!” Narcissa hissed, in a low and deadly voice, looking up at her sister, butting into their squabbling.

“There is no point apportioning blame,” said Snape smoothly. “What is done, is done.”

“But not by you!” said Bellatrix furiously and the two continued to argue until Bellatrix still looked unhappy, though she appeared unsure how best to attack Snape next. Taking advantage of her silence, Snape turned to her Narcissa.

“Now . . . you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?” Narcissa looked up at him, her face eloquent with despair.

“Yes, Severus. I — I think you are the only one who can help me, I have nowhere else to turn. Lucius is in jail and...” She closed her eyes and letting free the tears that had been threatening to fall for days. “The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it,” Narcissa continued, her eyes still closed. “He wishes none to know of the plan. It is... very secret. But—”

“If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak,” said Snape at once. “The Dark Lord’s word is law.”

Narcissa gasped as though he had doused her with cold water. Bellatrix looked satisfied for the first time since she had entered the house.

“There!” she said triumphantly to her sister. “Even Snape says so: You were told not to talk, so hold your silence!”

But Snape had gotten to his feet and strode to the small window, peered through the curtains at the deserted street, then closed them again with a jerk. He turned around to face Narcissa, frowning.

“It so happens that I know of the plan,” he said in a low voice. “I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in on the secret, Narcissa, you would have been guilty of great treachery to the Dark Lord.”

“I thought you must know about it!” Narcissa relaxed, breathing more freely. “He trusts you so, Severus...”

“You know about the plan?” said Bellatrix, her fleeting expression of satisfaction replaced by a look of outrage. “You know?”

“Certainly,” said Snape. “But what help do you require, Narcissa? If you are imagining I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I am afraid there is no hope, none at all.”

“Severus,” she whispered, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. “My son . . . my only son . . .”

“Draco should be proud,” said Bellatrix indifferently. “The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: He isn’t shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, and he should, since he’s in love with that filthy little blood-traitor—”

“Watch your tongue Bellatrix! I was in her position when the first war began!” Narcissa’s voice became cold and harsh before she turned back to Snape. “Draco is barely sixteen and has no idea what lies in store! Why Severus? Why my son? This is vengeance for Lucius’s mistake, and I know it!”

Snape said nothing. His lack of response confirmed her fears. Again, her Lucius had been twisted in such a way to damage her son.

“That’s why he’s chosen Draco, isn’t it?” Her voice held no ounce of hope. “To punish Lucius?”

“If Draco succeeds,” said Snape, still looking away from her, “he will be honored above all others.”

“But he won’t succeed!” Narcissa rose, almost yelling. “Severus...please...You are, you have always been, Draco’s favorite teacher... and his godfather...I beg you... You are the Dark Lord’s favorite, his most trusted advisor...Will you speak to him, persuade him —?”

“The Dark Lord will not be persuaded, and I am not stupid enough to attempt it,” said Snape flatly. “I cannot pretend that the Dark Lord is not angry with Lucius. Lucius was supposed to be in charge. He got himself captured, along with how many others, and failed to retrieve the prophecy into the bargain. Yes, the Dark Lord is angry, Narcissa, very angry indeed. And I think even more so since Draco has found himself weak with that girl,” He snarled the word.

“Then I am right, he has chosen Draco in revenge!” choked Narcissa. “He does not mean him to succeed, he wants him to be killed trying!”

When Snape said nothing, Narcissa seemed to lose what little self-restraint she still possessed. Standing up, she stalked to Snape and seized the front of his robes. Her face close to his, her tears falling onto his chest, she hissed, “You could do it. You could do it instead of Draco, Severus. You would succeed, of course you would, and he would reward you beyond all of us— ”

Snape caught hold of her wrists and removed her clutching hands. Looking down into her tearstained face, he said slowly, “He intends me to do it in the end, I think. But he is determined that Draco should try first. You see, in the unlikely event that Draco succeeds, I shall be able to remain at Hogwarts a little longer, fulfilling my useful role as spy.”

“In other words, it doesn’t matter to him if Draco is killed!”

“The Dark Lord is very angry,” repeated Snape quietly. “He failed to hear the prophecy. You know as well as I do, Narcissa, that he does not forgive easily.”

Narcissa sneered and paced away, staring at the hearth. “My only son...my only son...”

“You should be proud!” said Bellatrix ruthlessly. “If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!”

Narcissa gave a little scream of frustration and clutched at her long blonde hair, before drawing her wand and pointing it at Bellatrix.

“You will never understand what this is like Bellatrix! You question my loyalty to the Dark Lord but what have I not given to him!? What have I not scarified!? He has taken my love! My family! My sisters! Now he has my son!”

“Narcissa, that’s enough. Listen to me.” Snape stood between the two sisters and Narcissa lowered her wand. “It might be possible . . . for me to help Draco.”

“Severus — oh, Severus — you would help him? Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm? He needs someone,” Narcissa gasped out desperately, her anger fading.

“I thought he had his precious little Hufflepuff,” Bellatrix sneered, but Snape paid her no mind.

“I can try to aid Draco,”

Narcissa composed herself, relief flooding through her veins as she gave him a slight nod.

“If you are there to protect him... Severus, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable V ow?”

“The Unbreakable Vow?” Snape’s expression was blank, unreadable. Bellatrix cackled a laugh but Narcissa paid her no mind. Instead her eyes were trained on dark black ones that held a glimpse of hope.

“He loves her, Severus,” Narcissa’s voice was soft, lost under her sister’s snarking remarks. “You must understand that. Give him the chance you never had,”

Something passed between them, a memory of a girl with bright red hair and a boy who got lost along the way. “I shall make the Unbreakable Vow,” he said quietly. “Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder.”

Bellatrix’s mouth fell open. Snape and Narcissa grasped right hands, not breaking eye contact.

“You will need your wand, Bellatrix,” said Snape coldly. She drew it, still looking astonished. “And you will need to move a little closer,” he said.

She stepped forward so that she stood over them and placed the tip of her wand on their linked hands.

Narcissa spoke. “Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wishes?”

“I will,” said Snape.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire.

“And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him and his love from harm?”

“I will,” said Snape. A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing chain.

“And, should it prove necessary . . . if it seems Draco will fail . . .” Narcissa could barely make the words out, “will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?”

There was a moment’s silence. Bellatrix watched, her wand upon their clasped hands, her eyes wide.

“I will,” said Snape.

Bellatrix’s astounded face glowed red in the blaze of a third tongue of flame, which shot from the wand, twisted with the others, and bound itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a rope, like a fiery snake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft sigh left my lips as I looked around my barren childhood room. Draco’s hands found their way to my hips as he stood behind me, taking in the same scene.

“It looks so much smaller now,” I murmured softly.

“Your home is at the Manor,” His lips pressed softly to the shell of my ear. “And we’ll be at Hogwarts soon enough,”

“Oh joy,” I muttered, a smile finding my lips at I turned, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Are you sure we can’t just run away to Paris?”

A smile barely touched Draco’s lips.

“If I could, I would take you anywhere safe in a heartbeat,” His fingers brushed my cheek softly, sending a shiver down my spine. “But...”

“But our work is here,” I finished, straightening the lapels of his blazer, smoothing them out. “Are you sure you want to give up being a prefect?” I asked for about the hundredth time. “We still are kids Draco,”

His hands found mine, our fingers intertwining.

“It’s too much to have to worry about,” He murmured softly. “I already fear for both of our lives this year, let alone having to worry about prefect duty and classes,”

Sighing softly, I nodded, my hand creeping up his left arm and resting over his sleeve, over the Mark.

“I love you,” The words constantly left my lips as well as his. A constant reassurance that it would pull us through.

“As I love you,” He smiled this time, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Now, we’re going to be late. Pansy and Abby are already at the station,”

The Hogwarts Express shone in all of her glory, but this time it seemed as if there was something off about her appearance. Like she had been tainted with the secrets that her passengers held and weighted down with the fear that hung in her thick smoke.

Narcissa hugged us both goodbye and Draco and I met up with Pansy and Abby, also with our other friends: Ernie, Hannah, Vincent, Gregory, Blaise, and Emme. Emme and Hannah fawned over my new clothes and the former muttered that it wasn’t fair that I got prettier every year. I blushed at her words that deepened when Draco agreed, his hand slipping around my waist.

Settled in a compartment Ernie, Pansy and Abby all left for prefect duty—Abby had taken my place as Hufflepuff prefect. I wasn’t sure if anyone had taken over Draco’s position, nor did I fret about caring.

After the three had returned, there was a nervous tap on our compartment door. Emme opened the door and a third-year girl with large blue eyes and raven hair.

“T-these are f-for Abby B-Bones, B-Blaise Zab-bini and Y-Y/n Y/l/n.” She squeaked.

I stood, smiling kindly, Abby took her place beside me. The girl gawked up at us and maybe she had reason to; we weren’t exactly your average Hufflepuffs any longer.

“Thank you,” I took the parchments from her hands.

She nodded and with one more quick look around the compartment, she dashed off down the hall.

“What is it?” Draco was by my side, looking over my shoulder.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do,” I teased softly. “Impatient much?”

I unfolded the letter.

Y/n,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely,

Professor H. E. F. Slughorn

“Slughorn?” I said dubiously, trying to make out the overly ridiculous cursive font. “A new teacher?”

Draco took the note from my hands and I rolled my eyes, now peering over his shoulder. “Are you going to go?” Draco’s voice was calm and collected.

He was hiding his fear and disdain of me leaving his side even momentarily. My eyes found Abby’s and we had a silent conversation.

“I’ll go, see what it’s all about,” Abby spoke. “If this Slughorn really wants to meet Y/n, I’ll tell him where he can find you,”

“Thank you,” I wrapped her in a hug. “Be careful,”

“You too,”

Blaise and Abby left—after Abby and Pansy shared a parting kiss that had me blushing and hiding in Draco’s shoulder. After a while, Draco stretched out on the empty seats, his head in my lap. My fingers played with his hair that had just been cut before the start of the new school term. I had to admit that I missed his shaggy hair. He looked much older now.

I was about asleep when the compartment door opened again, and Abby and Blaise came back in. Draco sat up momentarily, and we both looked expectantly to Abby for news while Blaise wrestled with the door.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” He snapped angrily as he smashed the sliding door repeatedly against something that didn’t seem to be there.

My eyes flashed to Draco’s and he kept his cool. I took his lead and looked to Abby as she went on about the meeting with Slughorn lamenting to Pansy. Draco’s eyes still lingered on the door, following something that wasn’t quite there.

Draco laid back down in my lap and my fingers resumed their task in his hair. His hand found mine and carefully he traced one letter on the back of my hand: “H.” To anyone else it would have looked like a comforting gesture.

I quickly signed one word to Abby: Harry.

She gave a small nod but didn’t let on that she knew anything. In fact, we settled back into the conversation of Slughorn and lunch.

“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” Blaise rolled his eyes, huffing at Gregory who was trying to casually slip his arm around Blaise’s shoulders. “Not that he managed to find many.”

“Well-connected?” I frowned, my thoughts briefly straying from the fact we were being watched by the Golden Boy. “For what reason?”

“Dunno,” Abby shrugged, signing the letter H, reminding me. “No one too fancy, McLaggen from Gryffindor,”

“His uncle’s big in the Ministry,” Draco explained softly.

“— someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw —”

“Not him, he’s a prat!” Pansy exclaimed in horror.

“— and Longbottom, Potter, and Ginny Weasley,” Abby finished.

Draco sat up, my hands falling to my lap. He pressed an apologetic kiss to my temple and sat up straight next to me.

“He invited Longbottom?” Draco sounded almost dismayed at the fact.

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” Blaise said indifferently, now tucked under Gregory’s arm.

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?” Draco muttered.

“What’s he got interest in me or Abby?” I pointed out. “It’s just a prissy preppy club filled people who don’t have any real charm other than who they know,” I huffed. “Well, present company excluded... And Neville has always been a sweetheart, and I don’t really know about Ginny...” I trailed off and both Abby and Pansy were rolling their eyes at me, but Draco was still distracted. “But...”

“Potter,” Draco picked up on my train of thought. “Precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at ‘the Chosen One,’” He sneered.

“Dray,” I called softly, snapping him from his thoughts. Though I still had a distaste for Harry, I knew that it wasn’t good for Draco to get worked up about Harry because it was hard to reason with him when he did. Draco laid back down in my lap and for the third time my fingers stroked through his hair.

“Maybe he’s going a bit senile.” Pansy offered. “No offense babe,” She mended quickly looking to Abby.

“Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his...” I heard the hurt in Draco’s voice this time.

“We’re more than who are parents were, or are,” I reminded him softly. “And this Slughorn seems... shady,”

“Who cares what he’s interested in?” Draco agreed, a bit more defensive than normal. “What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher.” He yawned ostentatiously and I laughed, ruffling his hair. “I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what’s it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?”

“Draco,” I scolded.

I’d let him get snappy and defensive sure, but he couldn’t just go around telling our plans to everyone. We needed secrecy for this to work.

“What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?” Abby demanded, looking to me.

I gave her a sharp look and signed “listen” and my eyes darted up towards the trunk compartments above our heads and she simmered down, remembering that we weren’t alone.

“Well, you never know,” Draco murmured softly, sulking up at me. “We could have... moved on. To bigger and better things,” There was an ounce of hope in his voice.

Everyone looked at the pair of us, either dumbfounded or suspicious.

“Do you mean — Him?” Pansy asked in a low voice.

Draco shrugged. If Draco was talking about better things, it would be moving onto a world where he didn’t exist.

“We’re finishing our education,” I pressed what seemed for like the hundredth time. “No matter how pointless it seems,” I muttered under my breath.

“The Dark Lord wants service, loyalty,” Draco reminded me. “Can’t do that from school can we?”

It was a constant argument we had. If we did manage his trial and came out victorious—as victorious as one could with what was asked of us—what would happen afterwards? Draco was convinced that he was going to actually take me away to Paris to be safe, but he had to see that I wasn’t going to abandon Hogwarts or our friends. After a while he agreed too, but it was always on the fence about the idea.

“And you think you’ll be able to do something for him?” Blaise unknowingly interrupted our silent standoff. “Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?”

“Maybe the job he wants me to do isn’t something that you need to be qualified for,” Draco whispered quietly. “I can see Hogwarts,” He sat up, looking out the train window. “We’d better get our robes on.”

___________________________________

Draco smiled as he fastened your silver cloak over your school robes and for a moment, he could believe that it was the winter of last year, that day in the snow.

“Pinnae hasn’t been out in a while,” He commented softly.

“Bigger things,” You replied softly. “Do you want her to...”

“I’m going to check on something,” Draco confirmed, knowing that you were still being watched. “You go on ahead.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, please,” You scolded again; your voice was so low that he doubted Potter could hear you.

With one last fleeting kiss, you left the compartment. Now Harry and Draco were alone. People were filing past, descending onto the dark platform. Draco closed the door and let down the blinds so that passersby couldn’t peer in.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Without warning, Draco pointed his wand—not your father’s—at Harry, who was instantly paralyzed.

Draco watched, as though in slow motion, Harry toppled out of the luggage rack and fell, with an agonizing, floor-shaking crash, at his feet, the Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath him, his whole body revealed with his legs still curled absurdly into the cramped kneeling position. Harry couldn’t move a muscle; he could only gaze up at Draco, who smiled wickedly.

“I thought so,” Draco grinned, kneeling down. “I heard Greg’s trunk hit you. And it’s hard to sneak when you have the most powerful wizards in the school in one compartment. We’re not idiots, Potter.”

His eyes lingered for a moment upon Harry’s trainers.

“And you didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I’ve got you here...”

Draco stamped, hard, on Harry’s face. He felt a satisfying crunch under his shoe and watched as blood poured from Harry’s nose.

“That’s for what you said to my Y/n. Now, let’s see...”

Draco dragged the cloak out from under Harry’s immobilized body and threw it over him.

“I don’t reckon they’ll find you till the train’s back in London,” he said quietly. “See you around, Potter... or not.”

And taking care to tread on Harry’s fingers, feeling quite satisfied, Draco left the compartment.

“What did you do?” You hissed at him as he got into the carriage, riding to school.

“Nothing,” Draco said with a cool smile. You gave him a flat look. “I might have broken his nose,” He grumbled. “And put him in a full body bind curse...” You raised your eyebrow, knowing that wasn’t it. He didn’t know if he loved or hated that you knew him that well, “and hid him under his invisibility cloak...”

“Draco!” You cried. “Are you serious!?”

“He’s been nothing but a prat to us Y/n!” Draco argued. “And after what he said to you at Diagon Alley? And last year when he accused you of double crossing him!?”

“Okay, yes, and you broke his nose. I’m fine with that,” You gestured. “But Draco won’t it be suspicious when he doesn’t show up to school!? We can’t afford to make any mistakes!”

You glared each other down and Draco closed his eyes and sighed. He heard a soft huff come from you and your arms wrapped around his waist. His curled around you instinctively.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” The words were soft from your lips. “But Draco you can’t let this silly feud come over you like this,”

“It’s not a silly feud,” He argued back. You gave him another look.

“We need him,” The confession was small. “If we want to beat this. It’s gonna take all of us,”

Draco didn’t want to admit you were right. But there was something about Harry that set him on edge. Like he was a danger to you at all times when he was near. He almost attracted it like a magnet.

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered softly. “Forgive me?” You nodded into his shoulder.

“I can see them,” You whispered softly, your head still tucked into his shoulder. “The thestrals. I always knew that they pulled the carriages but... I didn’t think that...”

You bit your lip, and he knew you were trying not to cry. Draco knew what the Dark Lord had made you witness, and it surprised him too, that seeing the death of your father counted when it was nothing but a memory. He stroked your hair softly and held you close the entire ride.

He hated that you had to part for the opening feast, watching the house sorting take place. When the Sorting Hat mentioned uniting within to face the dangers beyond the walls, his eyes flashed to yours, then over to the Gryffindor table. You were convinced that the Sorting Hat was right and that it would take unity in the school, but he wasn’t too sure. Was unity the key to his success? Would anyone want to stand beside him after what he was about to do?

His conscience was eased slightly when it was announced that Snape was now teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. If nothing else, you stood a better chance against what he dragged you into. Draco still had a disregard for Slughorn and couldn’t keep the grimace off his face.

Despite giving up your prefect duty, you still helped the first years off to your dormitories after waving a goodbye to him. It made him smile that some things never changed.

The next morning, he was surprised when you sat next to him at breakfast because schedules were being handed out and it was another morning that you were supposed to be with your House table.

“Got it last night,” You said as soon as you sat down, knowing the question before he asked. “I had to talk to Sprout about what I wanted to take anyways since I didn’t really ever decide on a career path.” Your voice was chipper, but there was something somber lurking beneath it.

Snape swept up behind the two of you and Draco was ready to defend you against his Head of House, but Snape simply handed Draco his schedule.

“Very well done,” Snape almost smiled, and for a moment Draco wondered what Snape was referring to. “On your O.W.L.s, you show a lot of promise Mr. Malfoy. As well as you Miss Y/n. I look forward to seeing you both in class,”

When Snape was out of ear shot, you gave him a look and he had no idea and no explanation. Snape had always been bearable towards him, but his contempt for you really baffled him. Draco assumed that Snape would loathe you because if anyone could persuade Draco out of his trial, it would be you. Sometimes Draco wondered why you didn’t.

In DADA the next day, Draco paired up with you and you two began to practice casting shielding charms without the incantation. The whole class was filled with shenanigans. Draco found comfort in the lesson, however. Through the summer break, you two had been working on defense spells against the Dark Arts as well as investing in them.

Draco knocked you off your feet for the third time and he could tell that you were getting frustrated. He offered his hand, righting you.

“Are you alright?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Yes,” You snapped. “Stupid spell,”

“Do you need a break?”

Your sharp look gave him his answer.

“You must completely trust the spell,” Snape instructed as he walked past. “It does not lie in a precise incantation of the words in your mind, but also the feeling of protection itself,”

Your eyebrows furrowed a moment then you poised. Draco raised his wand, ready to attack you with a Tripping Spell again, but as he cast it, the spell bounced harmlessly off of you and hit Weasley. A smile spread across your face when you realized what you had accomplished.

“Oi,”

And there went that happy moment. Harry stalked up to you and Draco was very close to sending a Tripping Spell at him.

“Hello Harry,” Your voice was calm, pleasant as you paid him no mind, offering your hand to Weasley, helping him up. “Sorry Ron, I guess I figured it out huh?” Your smile was dazzling and sweet and Ron gaped at you.

“How?” Ron asked.

“She’s cheating,” Harry snapped.

You gaped at him.

“Oh, come on really, Harry,” Hermione butted in as Draco strode to your side, his blue eyes meeting cold green ones. “Does that mean I’m cheating as well?”

Draco held a faint memory that you mentioned Hermione defending you against Harry’s remarks while DA was still active. He presumed that didn’t change either.

“Is there an issue?” Snape came towards the small group of students.

“No sir,” You smiled at the Professor. “I accidentally deflected the jinx and it hit Ron.”

“It was no accident,” Harry muttered.

Snape turned to Harry, glowering. “And perhaps you have an inkling of how Miss Y/l/n preformed a nonverbal spell? Since you seem to think she did it maliciously, you ought to know exactly how it works then?”

“No,” said Harry stiffly.

“No, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”

_________________________

My eyes widened in shock at the words that escaped Harry’s lips. I could feel the tension grow in the room as Snape’s glare amplified at Harry. I still couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.

“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter . . . not even ‘the Chosen One.’”

The professor was relatively calm for the situation. Draco, on the other hand, I had to grab his hand and give him a soft look. Going off on Harry in front of a bunch of witnesses was not the best situation to get ourselves into.

“So, how did you do it?” Draco asked as we left the room, class having gotten out.

“I... well,” My cheeks flushed slightly. “I thought about how safe I feel when I’m with you... that night after the tournament... or in the prefect baths after my first detention... that night...”

“Oh,” Draco had turned the same shade of red that I was, and I grinned at him.

We met up with Abby and Pansy as we went to sit at the Hufflepuff table, where the rest of our friends were. Pansy was griping about Ancient Runes homework despite it being the first day and I wasn’t looking forward to the work that Snape had assigned this morning either, but since N.E.W.T classes were only a few times a week, it left the lot of us with more free time to do the work.

Draco and I poured into our homework during our free hour before lunch, and since we had been studying Dark Magic among other things over the summer, it was unintentionally easier that it probably should have been. I intertwined my fingers with his.

“We’re gonna get through this,” Laying my head on his shoulder, I sighed softly. “We’re going to succeed. We’re going to be okay,”

He didn’t say anything, but his thumb stroked the back of my hand. It came time that we parted ways: Draco had double Potions and I had Herbology.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I smiled pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Especially with Potter in that class.” A pause, “I love you,”

“As I love you,” He whispered softly.

I hated watching him go, knowing that Slughorn was teaching Potions and that Harry was in his class. I worried more with each step that we were apart. It was true, we had maybe a week or two until we really had to start our plan and I wanted Draco to try and enjoy the career path of Auror in his N.E.W.T.s until then.

Walking into the greenhouses I saw the two other students composing this section of N.E.W.T. Herbology: Luna and Neville. I shed my robes and picked up a pair of dragonhide gloves. Even though it was the first day, Sprout had bowtruckles out on the desks. Steve seemed to remember me from the year prior and crawled back up on my arm. I took a seat next to Luna and Neville, who were interacting with their own bowtruckles.

They both smiled at me as I took out my notebook filled with my previous years notes from Herbology. It was getting to the point that my torn up, abused notebook was becoming more accurate than Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

“So, you and Malfoy?” Neville asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“Yeah,” I nodded, a tight smile on my lips and looked around anxiously. “Look, I know you two aren’t his biggest fans... but—”

“It’s important that we unite for the sake of the defeat of You-Know-Who,” Luna finished the words I couldn’t bring myself to say. “The Sorting Hat has been saying it for years... you’d think that someone would listen,”

“Harry’s got everyone thinking that Malfoy is some sort of Death Eater,” Neville confessed, and I froze momentarily before recovering.

“That self-righteous prat,” I muttered. “It never ends does it? Between those two? Even Draco is ridiculous about it,” I couldn’t help but laugh as the other two joined in. I sighed softly and shook my head, setting Steve down on the table.

“You know, they’re a lot more alike than they care to admit,” Luna said absentmindedly.

Neville and I were both about to refute the point when it seemed we both paused and considered her words. Was Draco similar to Harry? Yes. That was the simple answer. They were very alike, but on different sides of the same war. Two boys forced into legacies set by their parents and those around them. Powerful young wizards who no doubt just wanted to run away from it all.

“I never thought about it like that,” Neville whispered softly. “Makes Draco seem less...”

“And Harry a bit more...” I tacked on.

Sprout allowed us to interact and study the bowtruckles for the double hour of Herbology as she went over a rough outline for the year course and what we should expect on our finals. I left a few minutes early and rushed to the Potions class before it got out, meeting Draco at the door.

“Well? How’d it go?” I asked expectantly.

“Ask Potter,” He snapped, storming off.

My eyes met Harry’s and we were at a sort of standoff, until I remembered what Luna had said. The one I loved and the Chosen One were a bit more alike than I cared to admit. It softened my glare and allowed Slughorn to catch me in the hall.

“Miss Y/n!” He said merrily. “I missed you on the train, my dear!”

“Apologies,” I offered with a slightly smile. “I was otherwise occupied.”

“No doubt telling Malfoy how pretty he is,” Harry sneered.

“Careful Harry,” I said coolly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were harboring a crush there yourself after my boyfriend,”

Well that shut Harry up. I smiled victoriously, watching the Chosen One turn a shade of bright red in anger as Ron and Hermione tried to hold him back.

“Boyfriend?” Slughorn mused. “I hope I didn’t offend either of you by not extending my invitation to Mr. Malfoy,”

“Not at all,” I smiled kindly—a false smile, “But I’m afraid that I will have to decline your invitation. I’m a firm believer that we are not our parents, who we know, nor what is expected of us.” I bore down green eyes as I said the words. “And I’m afraid I cannot join a club based on that premise,”

“Fire in this one, eh?” Slughorn chuckled looking to Harry. “As you wish my dear,”

“Professor,” I nodded. “Hermione, Ron... Harry,”

I turned and raced down the hall, after Draco who caught me on the first corner and pressed his lips to mine fiercely, easily pinning me against the wall.

“I bloody love you,” Draco breathed out in between kisses.

His hands trailed down my sides and to my waist as my hands got lost in his hair, dislodging the silky hair from the carefully styled gel. His breath was hot as it mingled with mine, his tongue gaining dominance easily. I held back a soft moan and pulled away, panting.

“Who knew that all I had to do to get you to kiss me like this was snark at Potter?” I drawled, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips.

“Oh, you have no idea the things I want to do to you,” He muttered darkly, pressing his lips to my neck. “But only when you’re safe,”

A small smile found its way to my lips as I pulled him away softly, stroking his cheek. “I love you Draco,” My eyes met crystal blue ones.

“As I love you,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead as we made our way to the Great Hall for dinner.

Later that night, we were lounging together in the Hufflepuff common room—along with Abby and Pansy, but these days we were hardly seen without each other.

“Luna said something in class today,” I mused aloud, pausing from my bowtruckle sketch,

“When doesn’t she?” Draco muttered, reading up on his Potions textbook for tomorrow, I nudged him playfully.

“She said that you and Harry might be more alike than any of us care to admit.”

I heard his quill snap and watched the ink splatter over his paper. I quickly snapped my finger and the Cleaning Spell did its magic.

“What?” He hissed. “Me? Similar to Potter? Are you daft?”

My eyes dropped as I gritted my teeth. Draco seemed to find himself. Taking a deep breath, he reached out, placing his hand on my forearm.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me, I apologize,” His voice was soft and broken. “Please,”

“Never mind,” I whispered. “It’s... it’s nothing.”

“Y/n,” He called softly, tilting my chin so that I was staring into his deep blue eyes. “I’m very sorry I snapped at you. Please tell me?”

Oh, it was not fair that he could do that to me.

“You’re both... forced into roles you don’t want to play—don’t give me that look, I don’t think Harry wants to save the world anymore that you want to...” I shrugged and set down my quill. “I’m sure he just wants to run away too. I can only imagine... he’s lost his parents... Sirius...”

“He’s got Weasley,” Pansy pointed out, butting into our conversation. “And Granger, and always has. Everywhere they go, they shine. ‘The Golden Trio.’ Remember first year? Slytherin had won house cup until those three showed up? Dumbledore had days to award the points, but he had to wait until the Feast.”

Draco and I both flinched at the name. But I remembered that day well, I was so upset on behalf of the Slytherins, because even though at that time I was terrified of most of them, it really wasn’t fair.

“But can we blame Harry for that? I mean stuff sort of just does happen to him,” Abby refuted.

“Stuff happens to everybody,” Pansy snapped back. “Doesn’t give him a free pass to be a prat all the time,”

The two argued at my focus shifted to Draco, who had gone quiet beside me. His gaze let me know that he was lost in thought, in a different world that wasn’t the one around him. I nudged his shoulder and blue eyes found mine.

“Maybe there was something... once.” He admitted. “But...”

“You’ve changed,” I smiled. “Harry is still a git,”

“Are you saying I was a git?” He mocked offense.

“You were the king of the gits,” I teased. “You used to be so mean to me!” I was almost laughing as he blushed and looked down.

“I was mean to everyone,” He chuckled, pulling me into his lap. “Remember you yelled at me? ‘I have every reason to hate you, but I refuse’,” Draco smiled down at me. “You were something else. Sometimes I wonder if you really are a Hufflepuff when you act like such a Gryffindor,”

“Take that back!” I laughed, slapping his chest. “I am not a Gryffindor!”

“I don’t know Feathers,” Abby drawled. “You’ve got to be stupid brave to take on a Malfoy,”

“I’m not the one whose Patronus is a lion,” I refuted looking up to Draco, who burst out laughing.

“Wait!” Pansy nearly screeched. “Your Patronus is a bloody lion!? What the hell are you doing to him Y/n!? Stop contaminating my Slytherin!” She was laughing, nothing behind her threats.

I could feel my face flushing as I hid in Draco’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his body shaking with laughter under me. Something I didn’t know that I missed. It was almost easy, wrapped up in Draco’s arms, laughing with our friends, to forget that we had something much darker lurking underneath.

A week passed as we settled into our classes. Neville had warmed up to me in Herbology and no longer stammered when I tried to talk to him, which was nice. Draco still sulked a bit after double Potions, but it was easy to bring his smile back.

Until Slughorn caught me after meeting with Draco the following Friday.

“My dear Y/n! Just the girl I was hoping to see!” he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly. “I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We’re having a little party, just a few rising stars, I’ve got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin—I don’t know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries—and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Bones will favor me by coming too.”

It was like Draco wasn’t standing right next to me; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.

“Apologies, professor,” I hissed. “But I think I’ve made it clear that I am not interested in your Slug Club. If you’ll excuse us,” My voice dripped acid as I took Draco’s hand and led him down the hall, seething.

“Love, if you want to go to these meetings, don’t let me be the one to stop you,” Draco sounded crestfallen as he pulled me to a stop. “You’re going to go amazing things with your future, don’t... don’t give that up for me,”

I reached up and stroked his cheek softly.

“My future wouldn’t be complete without you in it.” I smiled softly. “And I know I’ve got the shoes and the dresses to be a Malfoy, but I really am happy to settle down, without a sickle in my pocket, if it meant I could have you. Slughorn be damned,”

Draco rolled his eyes and smiled.

__________________________________

He got a letter from his mother that evening and it seemed like whatever defense you had against Harry faded. The Evening Prophet read that the Manor had been searched for Dark Magic and cursed objects because of an “anonymous tip” to Arthur Weasley.

“That Potter!” You snarled, after hearing that Narcissa had been given much trouble about your room at the Manor because of its heavy enchantments. “He has no idea what we’re up against and he thinks he can just accuse who he wants!”

“He’s right though,” Draco sighed softly. “He was right all along to suspect me,”

Your mood softened as you took the paper and letter from his hands, tossing them onto his desk. You didn’t say anything, and perhaps there wasn’t anything to say as you sat beside him on the bed. Again, he wondered where your soft plea for him was to not do this. To stop his trial because it was wrong. It didn’t come, though.

You and Draco found yourselves every Friday night from then on in The Room of Hidden Things, searching for the other vanishing cabinet. After some persuading, he allowed you to fly as Pinnae around the large room as he meandered the mountains of rubbish.

“Draco!” You called, and he ran towards the sound of your voice.

When he caught sight of you, he also caught sight of your target. He almost sagged in relief. He had become disheartened over the past few weeks, and without your gentle reminders that your plan would work, and that you had allotted months to spare in planning and fine tuning, he might have done something rash.

“I don’t see why we can’t just send him a cursed object or something,” He huffed one night, slamming another book closed. “It’s not like it’ll be hard.”

“Draco,” You sighed. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt, on the slight chance that it falls into the wrong hands,”

Your gaze dropped to the table and he was sure that you were finally about to give a spiel about not wanting to do the trial in the first place, and that he should stop attempting, but it didn’t come. What he had to do was wrong and you weren’t refuting it at all. It made him anxious.

Now that everything had been planned out—rather flawlessly between the two of you—it almost seemed surreal to him. Not like Dumbledore had been at the school much anyway. Draco rarely saw him in the Great Hall during meals, and he avoided eye contact at all costs either way.

Draco lounged across his bed—that was more of a nest since you had a habit of finding your way into it most nights—as you came in through the window morphing from Pinnae. In your routine, you slipped off your shoes and grabbed the sweater and sweats he had laid out for you and you went to change in his small bathroom. When you no longer looked a Malfoy, but yourself, you draped over him on the bed.

“So, Hogsmeade tomorrow,” You grinned, excitement in your eyes. “Are you ready?”

“I’m not going,” He didn’t look up from his book, not wanting to see your reaction. Dread settled in his chest at this conversation.

“Why not?” You almost pouted. “We deserve a little fun Dray,”

“You can go,”

“Draco,” You chided, sitting up. “Since when do you not want to go out with me?” The frown and pout of your lip had Draco running a hand through his hair, nervously.

“I can’t go,” He admitted. “I... I have detention,” Draco didn’t dare to meet your eyes.

“Detention?” Your tone held an anxious note. “What...? why? With who?”

He grimaced. “McGonagall. I... I failed two of her quizzes,”

You went quiet for an agonizing half a minute that dragged on forever. After a full minute he looked up at you and deep concentration was written in your features.

“What are you thinking about?” He mused, pulling you into his arms, trying to shove down the ashamed feeling that kept bubbling in his chest.

“Well,” You teetered your head. “How quickly I can get detention before tomorrow,” A small smile found your lips. “And wondering if Hermione would want to tutor you if I asked her...”

“I don’t need a tutor,” He snapped, defensive, but you saw right through his front.

“Alright,” You soothed, rubbing his shoulder. “You know it is okay to struggle in class, right? Talent has to run out somewhere and the skill and practice has to pick up, and if that’s now, that’s perfectly okay.”

His gaze dropped as your words sank in. Was this the tipping point where he couldn’t rely on his pureblood status any longer and would have to work to be good at magic? Something that always came easily to him? The thought scared him more than the thought of failing a quiz or serving detention.

“We don’t have time for me to start to fail now,” His worry left his lips. “I can’t start failing now,”

Your fingers came and cupped his face, stroking his cheek.

“You’re not failing,” The words were soft like the look in your eyes. “McGonagall allows everyone to retake exams and quizzes for full credit and normally her detentions are just one on one time with her so that she can help you,”

“How do you know?” He mumbled miserably.

“Because I was failing in Transfiguration fourth year and she did the same for me.”

“Never told me that,”

You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“Do you want me to ask Hermione if she’ll tutor you? I can ask Luna if you’d prefer.” You asked again, your voice silky soft.

“You could tutor me,”

“And we’d get nothing done because we’d end up snogging all night,” You pointed out with a laugh. “Don’t think I didn’t think about it,”

“So, you think about snogging me all night?” A familiar smirk found his lips.

“I think about a lot of things to do with you at night,” You drawled, just as mischievous. “But...” Sadness replaced the mischief.

“Not until we’re safe,” Draco offered.

“Not even that,” You confessed. “I’ve been reading old papers and rumors and such, and a lot of Death Eaters are skilled in Legilimency, your aunt in particular and the Dark Lord even more so...” A pause. “And I don’t want those moments to belong to anyone but us... and unless you feel like becoming skilled in Occlumency to a degree to defy You-Know-Who in the meantime...”

Draco nodded and pulled you to his chest, rubbing your back softly.

“I love you,” He pressed a kiss to the top of your hair.

“I love you too,” You whispered into his shoulder.

The next morning you took off with a quick kiss, flying back to your dorm before anyone would catch you. He dressed, trudging off to McGonagall’s office, not looking forward to the next few hours at all.

“Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall greeted politely.

“Professor,” He sighed and held his head high, your words comforting him.

It was okay to struggle. He wasn’t failing, he just had to learn. He could do that. He could learn. He could do this... right?

“Now, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall began, “I know that you’ve been doing quite well in class and you’ve been completing your homework in a timely manner. I’m curious as to why you missed out on these quizzes,”

Draco looked down and wished that you were beside him to say the words he never could. You were brave that way, never afraid to admit when you needed help or confess what was wrong.

“As you are aware, I allow all students to make up quizzes for full marks if they can perform the spells and recite the information to me after they have reviewed the information. That is the purpose of these next hours,”

Even though you had told him all of this the night before, there was still a comfort to it coming from the Professor’s mouth. He could do this. He wanted to get better and now he had the whole afternoon and one on one time with McGonagall to get back up to par. As McGonagall began to go over and ask him questions about the spells that had been studied and the methods behind them, he knew almost all of the answers—to both of their surprises, though neither showed it. And when she asked him to transform a kettle into a rabbit, he performed the spell correctly on the first try. McGonagall smiled.

“Draco,” She caught his attention with the use of his first name. “I believe that you are quite skilled in Transfiguration. Consider both of your quizzes to have full marks,”

“But Professor,” He stammered. “I... I don’t understand why I can do it now. And why I couldn’t do it then,”

The smile warmed on the professor’s face, meeting her eyes.

“Some students, Miss Y/n included as I’m sure you’re aware, have testing anxiety. They know all of the information, and can perform quite well, but when faced with the threat of an exam or a grade, they lose focus. It stems from a need of perfectionism, and I assure you, you are not the first Slytherin with the issue.”

Draco nodded.

“Now, I cannot be certain that it is the case with you, I also know that not all students should be measured by what they can write on a piece of paper or recall on a moment notice. You are a gifted wizard Mr. Malfoy, and I do not want you to doubt that, nor do I want you to be confined by a standardized exam.” McGonagall looked over her glasses at him. “If you wish, we can continue these sessions instead of examinations for you, or if you wish, you can attempt my written quizzes again if you feel confident,”

The words sunk into Draco’s mind as he processed what he was being told. He never expected the kind gestured offered to him by McGonagall for a number of reasons and it baffled him. Yet, there was a comfort in it. Maybe he wasn’t failing after all, he just didn’t test well. That was more of a relief than the better quiz grade.

“I think I’d rather do this,” He confessed.

“Very well, every time there is a quiz or exam, you do not have to show to class, but I expect you here the Saturday afterward.”

“Yes Professor,” McGonagall smiled again.

“It’s not too late to head down to Hogsmeade if you so wish Mr. Malfoy, I am done with you for today,” She ordered some papers on her desk. “I’m sure Feathers will be quite happy to get out today,”

He stared at the professor who had a mischievous look in her eye. Gathering his things, he thanked McGonagall again and headed down the hall, where you were more or less patiently waiting.

“Well?” You looked at him expectantly.

“Does McGonagall know about Pinnae?” He asked, distracted and distressed.

“Yes? I thought you knew that. She and Sprout are the ones who helped me,” You took his hand as the two of you walked down the hall. “But that’s beside the point, how did it go?”

“Well, she thinks that I have testing anxiety,” Draco gave. “And that I’m not slipping behind like I thought,”

“That’s great!” You beamed. “Well not the anxiety, I know that sucks, but ya know,” Your smile was contagious as you turned down the hall, towards the dorms.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Uh? The dorms?”

“Did you not want to go to Hogsmeade then?”

Your eyes lit up as you grabbed his hand and all but dragged him down to the small village. Though Hogwarts students milled around the small town, it didn’t hold the same air of magic as it once did. Zonko’s had been boarded up and closed and though most of the other shops were opened, something seemed to be off.

You noticed it, as you clung to his arm, your smile becoming a bit more forced. The sun was hidden by October clouds that threatened to rain any moment. Sensing your distress, Draco quickly ushered you into The Three Broomsticks, where you nearly knocked over Harry.

“Sorry,” You rushed out, offering your hand, even after you realized who you had jostled.

Harry ignored your offer and got up on his own, glaring you down. Draco tucked you to his side, his gaze becoming cold and dangerous.

“Watch where you’re going Y/l/n,” Harry snapped.

“She apologized Harry,” Hermione tugged on Harry’s shoulder. “Now come on, you’re being ridiculous,”

“Me? She’s the one who’s kidding herself,” Harry muttered as he stormed out of the small pub.

___________________________

Hermione gave me an apologetic look, and so did Ron before they followed out after Harry. Draco took a step towards the door, no doubt to go after Harry for a different reason, but I grabbed his hand.

“It’s not worth it,” I murmured.

“Y/n,” He protested. “He can’t just... treat you that way and think that it’s okay,” There was a fire in his eyes.

“He can be wrong, Draco.” I smiled softly. “I know who I am,”

After sulking a moment, Draco gave in and led me to a table in the corner of the small bar, ordering two teas for us. I had a feeling that I just stopped the war from prematurely starting. We had about a moment of peace before there was screaming coming from outside. Both Draco and I rose abruptly, our drinks forgotten, as we hurried outside.

The Golden Trio and another Gryffindor were all standing over a screaming girl who was thrashing about. Draco and I took off running towards then, wands out, ready for anything. Harry rushed off towards the school as we got there.

“What happened?” I demanded.

“I—I don’t know,” The other girl sobbed.

“She’s been cursed,” Draco stooped beside me, his eyes taking in Katie’s writhing form. “Sorry love,” He muttered quickly, and for the moment, I thought the worst before he reached out and snagged my locket from around my neck. I watched as he, with quick and steady hands, placed the necklace around Katie’s neck, who promptly stopped screaming, and it looked as if she was sleeping.

We were all gawking at him when Harry came back with Hagrid.

“You!” Harry threw the accusation. “You did this to her! You slimy little—”

“Harry, he just saved her!” Hermione stood, looking quite dangerous herself. “Now come off this stupid feud!”

“Hagrid, that’s not going to hold long,” Draco spoke urgently, looking at my locket that was draped around the unconscious girl’s neck. “She needs to get to Pomfrey, or Snape.”

Harry looked baffled as Hagrid lifted Katie into his arms and rushed off towards the castle. Hermione hurried over to Katie’s wailing friend and put an arm around her.

“It’s Leanne, isn’t it?” She asked softly. The girl nodded.

“Did it just happen all of a sudden, or—?”

“It was when that package tore,” sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but Harry seized his arm and pulled him back.

“Don’t touch it!” Harry, Draco, and I all shouted.

Harry crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

“I’ve seen that before,” Draco bent down beside Harry their opposition momentarily forgotten, staring at the thing. “It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it.” He looked up at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. “How did Katie get hold of this?”

“Well, that’s why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it... Oh no, oh no, I bet she’d been Imperiused and I didn’t realize!”

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently. I shrugged off my cloak and draped it around the crying girl’s shoulders, holding her with Hermione.

“She didn’t say who’d given it to her, Leanne?” Harry asked.

“No... she wouldn’t tell me... and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn’t listen and... and then I tried to grab it from her...and — and —” Leanne let out a wail of despair.

“It’s alright sweetheart,” I soothed softly, rubbing her arm. “She’s going to be okay,”

“We’d better get up to school,” said Hermione, her arm still around Leanne. “We’ll be able to find out how she is. Come on...”

My eyes met Draco’s and he nodded, standing, coming to my side. There were thousands of questions in my eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and draped his own cloak around me, the biting wind whipping around us. I wanted to protest. I wasn’t cold, but I knew Draco would be.

Harry hesitated for a moment, watching our interaction, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron’s gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

“We’ll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey,” he said.

Harry and Ron trailed behind Hermione and Leanne, the two whispering in harsh tones to each other. Draco held out his hand and I took it, following.

“I—I’m uh, sorry, about not telling you about your locket,” Draco fumbled out, as if I were going to yell at him.

“You’re apologizing to me for giving me a locket that has been protecting me all this time?” I laughed and looked up at him. “Come on Dray, that was the sweetest thing I think you’ve ever done,”

There was a blush on his cheeks as he smiled at the ground. As we entered the castle grounds it seems that whatever Ron and Harry were arguing about had become very heated. I heard both of our names brought up as Harry stole glances at us. My gaze dropped and Draco held me closer.

“McGonagall!” said Ron warningly, and we all looked up.

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them.

“Hagrid says you six saw what happened to Katie Bell—upstairs to my office at once, please! What’s that you’re holding, Potter?”

“It’s the thing she touched,” said Harry.

“Good lord,” said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Harry. “No, no, Filch, they’re with me!” she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. “Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!”

We followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face to face us all. Leanne was still sobbing in Hermione’s arms.

“Well?” she said sharply. “What happened?”

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting another word out of her.

“All right,” said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, “go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock.”

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to us. “What happened when Katie touched the necklace?”

“She rose up in the air,” said Harry, before either Ron or Hermione could speak, “and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Dumbledore, please?”

Draco gripped my hand a little tighter at the mention of his name. I leaned against him comfortingly.

“The headmaster is away until Monday, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.

“Away?” Harry repeated angrily.

“Yes, Potter, away!” said Professor McGonagall tartly. “But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I’m sure!”

There was a standoff between Harry and McGonagall that had me averting my eyes at the sheer determination between the both of them. Harry gave in and scoffed, crossing his arms rather childishly. McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“And then I assume that you two arrived?” McGonagall turned to Draco and I.

“Yes,” Draco answered coolly. “We were in the Three Broomsticks and heard the screaming.”

“Did you two happen to see who gave Ms. Bell the package?”

“No ma’am,” I replied. “We were preoccupied with Harry,” My voice was calm and slightly accusatory. “Katie had left before we entered.”

“And I hear that you held a very powerful talisman Miss Y/n,” McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “Can I ask where you might have gotten such an artifact?”

“It was a gift,” I clarified. “From Draco,”

Harry scoffed again, but I paid him no mind.

“And where did you get your hands on such a thing Mr. Malfoy?”

“It’s my own creation, Professor,” Draco’s cheeks were slightly pink at the awe and surprise that flitted across the faces in the room. Even Harry seem to sulk slightly less.

“I see,” McGonagall nodded. “Well, I can’t say for sure, but I do believe that you and Miss Y/n may have just saved Miss Bell’s life. And for that I award you each with fifty house points.”

“Professor, you don’t have to,” I protested. “A life is more valuable than house points,”

“Even so,” The professor smiled softly. “We will not forget what you have done,”

We both nodded and Hermione was smiling, and Ron wasn’t glaring at us, so I counted that as a semi-win. Harry still had his eyes narrowed at the two of us and I really wanted to confront him about what he was thinking, but McGonagall swept out of her office and toward the Hospital wing.

The tension grew between the five of us.

“Well?” I raised my eyebrow at Harry. “Let’s have it.”

“Love,” Draco chided.

“No,” I retorted. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of acting like it’s okay for Harry to treat you like this. You probably did just save Katie’s life and had nothing to do with this and I’m really sure that Harry is still trying to find a way to blame you,” I turned to Harry. “Aren’t you?”

Harry looked down, his cheeks going slightly red.

“And at this point I really don’t give a damn about who might be the Chosen One or who might be a Death Eater!” Both boys flinched. “There is a war coming, for all of us! And I don’t care how much you might hate each other or me! If we don’t do this together, we’re all going to die! And if you would stop acting so childish for thirty seconds maybe you could see that!”

I grabbed Draco’s hand before anyone could respond and dragged him out into the hall. There was an air of sadness in his eyes as he pulled me into a quiet corner. He rested on a windowsill. holding my waist to stop me from pacing.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly, leaning against him. “None of that was directed at you,”

He nodded, still not saying a word.

“I really am sorry,” I tried again.

“Will you stop apologizing,” He smiled up at me. “You said what needed to be said, although I do wish you hadn’t yelled about Death Eaters,”

“Sorry?” I offered, for a third time.

“All is forgiven,” He smiled.

A quiet moment dragged between us.

“When did everything become so complicated?” I sighed, sitting in his lap as he wrapped his arms around me, keeping me balanced. The sleet assaulting the window behind us seemed to mock us both with its fury, but for the moment, we were safe from its danger.

We eventually drifted back to the Slytherin common room to escape the onslaught of the rain pounding the windows. Draco still had a knack for keeping me from foul weather.

I thought maybe the storm of the day had passed, until Snape swished into the Common Room requesting an audience with us both in his office promptly. Draco and I shared a look and followed the professor.

There was a familiarity about sitting in the professor’s gloomy office, holding Draco’s hand.

“McGonagall has informed me of your escapade today,” His voice sounded disinterested, but his eyes held a vote of urgency.

“Professor,” Draco began, only to be silenced by the raising of Snape’s hand.

“Neither of you are in trouble. But I must warn you to be more careful. Harry is very quick to accuse and has half of the world hanging onto his words. You two must be more cautious about what situations you find yourselves in if you wish to succeed.”

Snape spoke as if he knew what Draco and I were trying to accomplish, and maybe he did. Anxiety grew in my chest at that thought because with the more people who did know, there was a greater chance that something went wrong and there were too many variables at play. But if Snape did know, then he was very good about acting ignorant.

“And I believe these belong to you Miss Y/n,” Snape grabbed a bundle of silver from under his desk, and on top resided my necklace. “Well done with making quick use of the locket Mr. Malfoy. I have restored it to its original state.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, taking the objects and slipping my locket back on the weight comforting me.

“You are free to go,” He leaned back in his chair. “And do take care, he does not tolerate excuses,”

Our gaze fixed on the professor, gaping at him.

“Potter,” There was a sly smile on Snape’s lips as he lied easily. “Now off with you,”

It wasn’t until we were behind Draco’s locked dorm door that either of us said a word.

“Snape knows,” I breathed out, watching Draco pace the small room. My lethargic mood contrasted starkly against Draco’s.

“Who does he think he is!?” Draco seethed. “We’ve been doing just fine on our own! Now he acts like he cares!?”

“Draco, love,” I tried, only to get a cold look.

“No,” He said firmly. “We have been careful! I have been careful! Snape probably thinks that I sent the bloody necklace! He thinks of me as an ignorant child!”

He scattered the books off his desk. They landed with a crash to the floor. I pursed my lips and waited; my back pressed against his door. Draco stood at the windowsill, facing out, his hands clenched, white skin stretched over smooth bone as they rested against the chilled stone. I counted to sixty then took a careful step forward. A step towards him. With silent movements, I approached him, a gentle hand resting on his shaking shoulders. I could hear the muffled cries that tumbled from his lips. It had been a few weeks since his last panic attack. I hated to say that I awaited it. It had only been a matter of time.

I became his shadow, resting my chin on his shoulder and curling my arms around him, locking my fingers together. My breaths became deliberate, deep. It took a long while, but his shaking soothed and his breathing began to mimic mine. I reached down and smoothed out his fists, his fingers splaying out under mine. He turned, his eyes not meeting mine. I reached up and brushed the remaining tears on his face and began to unbutton his shirt, letting it fall from his shoulders.

It was a routine; he knew what was coming when I started to undress him. It wasn’t about sexual desire or want, but survival and comfort. That he could be completely bare before me—metaphorically and physically—and I still would never take advantage of him.

He allowed me to lead him into the small bathroom and start a warm shower. His hands came to my waist, pulling me back into his chest, his nose nestling into my hair. The warm water washed the chill and fear from our skin. Draco sat on the small counter, towels around us both, as I gently worked the white balm into his Mark, as I did every night before. I pressed a soft simple kiss to his lips, stroking his cheek. Still a word was not shared between us.

Curled up and surrounded by blankets and pillows, Draco’s eyes drifted closed.

“I didn’t do it,” He murmured softly—brokenly. “I didn’t send the necklace,”

“I know,” I ran a hand through his damp hair. “I know, my love.”

“I—I wouldn’t...” He stammered. “It... it was sloppy... I—I can’t risk your life by making—making a mistake like that,” There were tears in his eyes again.

I nodded and held him tighter, fighting back my own tears.

“I just need you to live,” He sniffed. “Whatever happens I need you to live,”

“Draco,” My voice broke as I tilted his chin up. His blue eyes held a hopeless brokenness to them. “I need you to live too. I can’t live without you. I wouldn’t make it,” I squeezed my eyes shut. “You claim that I’m pure, that I’m good, but Draco without you, I wouldn’t have a reason strong enough to keep fighting to stay that way,”

His hands came up and tangled themselves in my hair as he pressed his forehead to mine, our faces inches apart as we both cried, believing that the other was worth more that the life it had saved in that moment.

________________________________

When October turned to November and rain turned to snow, Draco had fallen back into a routine with you. Survive the week, eat meals with you, smile just enough, then curl up with you at night and feel free from the world around him. Draco couldn’t deny because of this year at Hogwarts a bitterness grew in his heart towards the school. Almost everything that he had loved about Hogwarts had been lost to him. He had given up being a prefect, and Quidditch. Potions was no longer fun because of Slughorn, who really had it out for him. Harry was almost impossible to deal with and though he rarely spoke a word to Draco in class, he could feel the accusations being hurled at him from the Gryffindor in his mind.

The only comfort, that led to deeper guilt, was that he and you were making a lot of progress with the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Hidden Things. It was a slow process that required heavy Dark Magic, but between the two of you, it was getting done. A comfort came as well, when Pansy and Abby came to you two, demanding that—though they knew that you couldn’t say what was going on—they wanted to help whenever and however they could. That meant the couple could patrol the halls while he and you worked on the cabinet, having a perfect cover as prefects.

You still amazed him, however. Despite everything, you were still working to unite at least the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs, and with the help of your (and his) friends it seemed to work.

Slytherin hostility had been almost non-existent against the Hufflepuffs, and some Ravenclaws. Something else was to be said about the Gryffindors, but Draco figured there were some things that would never change. To be fair, if you had come to him, when he was a first or second year and told him to knock off the teasing and rude comments to other students, he would have listened, because you were downright terrifying sometimes. A perfect mix of beautiful and dangerous.

“I know you don’t really like him,” You began one night as you both sat under the stars of the Astronomy Tower. “But Slughorn invited me to his Christmas party. Abby and Pansy are going... and I’m allowed to bring someone...”

“Slughorn?” Draco mused, fiddling with a strand of your hair. “I thought you didn’t want to be a part of his little club?”

“And I don’t,” You reaffirmed, shifting so that you were facing him. “But it might be a bit of fun?”

“That’s what you said about Hogsmeade,” He pointed out, enjoying that you were annoyed more than he should.

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“Well fine, then we won’t go,” You snapped, crossing your arms, dislodging your hand from his.

A smile played at his lips as he pulled you into his lap.

“If you want to go to Slughorn’s little party and take me with you, I’ll go,” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “And I’ll even behave,”

You snorted.

“And if Harry is there?” You raised an eyebrow, the beautiful smile back on your face.

“I seem to remember that you were the one who went off on him last,” Draco teased, smirking. “And I can handle Potter, easily,”

“Okay,” Your smile grew more genuine. “Then we’ll go,”

With Slughorn’s party came the promise of the end of the semester and home. You had put your foot down a few weeks ago that you and he were done working on the vanishing cabinet for the semester, even though it was almost finished.

“And we deserve a few Friday nights to ourselves and to our friends,” You had pointed out.

So, with the end of term, came this stupid party. Draco didn’t want to go in the slightest, after having Slughorn all semester, he was in no rush to spend more time with the man who fawned over precious Potter. But it made you smile, so he’d endure.

“Damn,” Pansy mutter from his side when she caught sight of you—dressed in the new robes you had gotten over the summer and look absolutely perfect in them. “And you’re sure you two are opened for a fun night with Abby and I?” Her question was all but innocent.

“Pansy, please,” Draco dismayed, growing rather warm.

“Just saying’ Malfoy. I love Abby but damn your girl has got it,” Pansy grinned. “Half the school talks about her, boys and girls.” There as a wicked look in her eyes, that made Draco very possessive.

You noticed when you met him at the bottom of the stairs, a questioning look in your eyes.

“Nothing,” He offered a smile. “Just Pansy,”

“Nothing my ass,” Pansy snarked. “Draco he’s a little jealous that half the school wants to shag you,”

You mouth popped open in surprise as Draco hissed at Pansy, who was laughing along with Abby. You turned a deep shade of red, almost matching the crimson on your lips.

“Oh, don’t tell me that you don’t know!” Pansy feigned dismay. “Seriously, what do you two do all day?”

You and Draco fumbled for answers as Pansy shook her head, pulling Abby down the hall as you two followed meekly.

“You do look lovely tonight,” Draco stammered.

“Thank you,” You sounded just as embarrassed.

There was a crowd around Slughorn’s office—students who hadn’t been invited, and if it weren’t for you, he’d be a part of that crowd.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn’s office was much larger than the usual teacher’s study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.

“I do wish they wouldn’t use house-elves like this,” Your lips pressed into a tight line.

“It’s their job, love,” Draco cooed softly, to appease you.

“I doubt they’re getting paid,” You muttered back.

“Miss Y/n! I am so glad to see you here after all those diligent invitations. I knew I could wear you down,” Slughorn grinned, giving Draco an uneasy feeling and he began to wonder if you truly wanted to be here, or if you had just said yes to stop the constant harassment from the professor.

“Delighted professor,” Your forced smiled let him know that it might be the latter.

Of course, you wouldn’t want to come. How had he missed that? You hated parties and loud places and tons of people. Draco was starting to feel very stupid for not thinking about this for more than a few moments. He almost wanted to leave now.

As soon as Harry walked through the door, Slughorn’s attention was off you and Draco was actually grateful because he could see your demeanor crumbling. He ushered you off to the quieter outskirts of the party.

“Do you want to go?” Draco asked in a hushed tone. “We made an appearance, we can leave now,”

“Look I know you don’t like Harry but—”

“Forget about me,” He snapped. “You don’t want to be here, do you? I’m so sorry I didn’t think about it,”

You look softened and your mask fell for a moment.

“I... It’s not so bad,” You decided, looking around. “And I know you want to be here,”

“I thought I said forget about me,” Draco tilted your chin up. “Right now, I want to know what you want to do,”

Your eyes scanned the crowd as you bit your lip. If it had been any other situation, he would have simply gone mad with how you looked right now including your lip worrying, but there were more pressing matters.

“I’m okay,” You decided, smiling—a real smile. “I... It’s not as bad as it used to be,” You admitted.

Draco studied you a moment more, then nodded, leading you back out into the fray. It came to a point that Hermione bumped into him. He caught her arm before she could fall completely and you turned, seeing that the commotion was.

“Oh, Hermione,” You smiled. “You look lovely,”

“So, do you, goodness Y/n, those are very nice robes,” Hermione gaped a moment before remembering herself. “If you’ll excuse me,”

“Wait,” You grabbed her hand. “I heard you were going out with McLaggen, whatever happened to Ron?”

“He’s with Lavender,” She said stiffly. “Now please, I have to go before he finds me again,” She said distressed.

“Granger likes Weasley?” Draco mused.

“They have first names,” You chided softly. “And I think they do like each other, they’re just not too sure of how to show it,” You shrugged. “Nothing for me to fret about.” Your smile returned.

After a while, Draco fell into his normal schmoozing routine that he was accustomed to, and now you were as well. Even though he held a powerful family name, all eyes were on you tonight. It reminded him of one of those fairytales you had read to him... Cinderella maybe? He’d have to ask you later. And though Draco wanted to sulk that you were getting more attention than him, like he would have years ago, something felt right about this. You were an amazing witch with— apparently—a well-known father and skills beyond your grade level. You deserved to be praised, after everything you had accomplished, he was proud of you too.

“Oh, Draco.” An airy voice caught his attention. “Y/n mentioned coming here tonight. I never thought she would though,” He turned to see Luna Lovegood staring at him. “She doesn’t like Slughorn much, though I suppose she could just be defending you.”

“Luna,” He greeted softly, drawing your attention as well.

“Luna!” You said excitedly, drawing the other witch into a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Harry invited me. We came as friends.” Luna lit up as the words fell from her mouth.

“And Neville is okay with that?” You stopped short—Draco wondered how you seemed to know all of the relationship gossip in the school.

“I don’t think he knows. Harry only just asked me today,” Luna looked off into the distance. “Would he be upset?”

“Luna, the poor guy's head over heels for you,” You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully. “I think you should go talk to him when this madness is done,”

“Suppose you’re right. You always know just what to say Y/n. A fine Hufflepuff,” Luna smiled and hugged you once more, before heading off into the part goers.

“Do you just know everyone?” Draco teased lightly.

“Luna and I have class together,” You refuted. “And she’s a sweetheart, both her and Neville.”

“Such a Hufflepuff,” He grinned, ducking away from the jab he knew was coming at him.

“Better than Slytherin,” You snapped playfully.

“What’s better than a Slytherin?”

Pansy and Abby strolled up, along with Blaise and Greg, both couples looking quite cozy. Greg, for the first time since Draco had known him, looked rather cleaned up and poised next to Blaise—who always looked flawless—confident on his own rather than following orders.

“Pretty much anything,” Abby snickered.

“You’ll pay for that Bones,” Pansy hissed, sending a sharp teasing look towards her lover.

“I can’t say that I share your sentiment either, Miss Bones,”

Draco felt you tense as Slughorn join the group of friends, pressing further into his side. He held you close.

“Slytherin is a fine house. Filled with many rising stars, like Mr. Zabini here,” The round professor nodded to Blaise who was lost in a goblet of mead, looking like he didn’t particularly want to be the center of attention at this moment.

Draco caught the cold look that fell upon your face, and he had to admit that Pansy was right: you were dangerously stunning and if the world wasn’t going to hell in a handbasket, he’d preferably make sure that you and everyone else in the school know that he was the only one with the privilege to shag you.

“I think it’s time we go, Draco,” Your voice dripped ice daggers.

“Oh, my dear, don’t leave. It is Christmas after all, the more the merrier,” Slughorn slurred, not reading the discomfort among the group.

“There’s better company to keep,” You smiled sweetly.

You shared a look with Abby, who looked about to murder, same as you. He wondered what you had told Abby about Slughorn, and what in turn she had told you. Gauging the intensity of the look, it couldn’t be anything pleasant.

“Come on Pans,” Abby muttered. “Y/n’s right. Just a bunch of brown nosers with no talent,”

“And to think I expected more from you two,” Slughorn gripped.

“Shame,” You drawled. “The feeling is mutual. But don’t worry professor, I’m sure your precious Potter would love to entertain you,”

Draco couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips, Blaise and Greg joining.

“Merlin, Draco you really are rubbing off on her,” Blaise chuckled. “You’re one kickass Hufflepuff, Y/l/n,” He raised his glass towards you and disappeared into the crowd, pulling Greg with him.

He watched you and Abby share a short conversation in sign language before Abby took Pansy’s hand and lead her towards the exit. Draco followed their lead, trying to, as politely as possible, avoid the party goers who wanted to strike up a conversation.

“I can’t believe I actually went to that,” You muttered out in the hallway, using his arm as a support to take off your stilettos. “I can’t believe you didn’t talk me out of it,”

“I did try,” Draco smiled softly, taking your shoes from you, taking your hand. “And it wasn’t so bad,” He tried.

You thought a moment.

“I guess not. I did get to see you look quite dashing tonight. Almost makes up for not going to the Yule Ball fourth year,” The smile returned to your lips.

“I do recall inviting you to a Ball that summer,” Draco mused.

“Ah, yes. When you told me I wasn’t your type,” You grinned with a laugh.

“And I was so close to being free of that taunt,” Draco feigned dismay as he smiled down at you. “But I’ll admit it, I was wrong. You are exactly my type,”

You gasped mockingly, a hand coming dramatically over your heart.

“Did Draco Malfoy just admit that he was wrong?”

“Oh hush,” He rolled his eyes, thinking maybe the party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Epilogue:

“It is Christmas,” I murmured softly. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

“Y/n,” Draco stressed, coming up behind me, leaning against the desk I was sitting at.

“I know, I know. What she did was awful, and I wish I didn’t have to decide, but...” I sighed and leaned back in the chair, tilting my head back so that I could meet his eyes.

“It’s Christmas,” Draco sighed pressing a kiss to my forehead. “And you’re nothing if not forgiving,”

“Worked out for you didn’t it?” I smiled.

“Yes dear,” He chuckled. “I’ll go tell my mother that we should expect yours for dinner then.” He paused. “Actually, why don’t you do that? She’s not going to yell at you,”

I laughed and spun around in the desk chair.

“Afraid of your mother, are you?” I baited.

“Respect,” He clarified. “And she’s been a bit... since father has been gone,” I nodded and sighed, turning back to the written letter on the desk and sent it off via owl. “We’ll go tell her together then,” I stood, taking his hand.

Chapter 8

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