#during my last one I had an essay question I barely knew how to answer and I was nearly typing thu tears

[lexosaurus]

Ghost Boy? In my college class? It's More Likely Than You Think

[ao3 link]

Warnings: None Words: 6,031

****

College was crazy. 

Okay?

There was absolutely no reason why college had to be as insane as it was.

Alright, maybe there was a reason. A reason called, "We have four years to make these students professionals in their chosen field, and some even less time than that."

Danny understood. He really, truly did. He knew that to work in his dream job at NASA, he needed to learn not just how to locate the constellations in the night sky, but also about subjects like chemistry, biology, calculus, physics—a lot of physics.

But seriously, when the hell was a guy supposed to sleep?

Last night's problem set only had five questions, theoretically. But it was run by a completely sadistic site that Vlad himself must have designed—that bastard—because while submitting a correct answer seemed to mark one of the five outlined stars in gold, the site also seemed to be more than happy to remove the gold star if he got a problem incorrect. 

Which meant that the theoretical five-questioned assignment ended up taking Danny many, many more questions than that. 

Just when he had thought the hell was over, he realized he still hadn't begun his paper for his mandatory freshman writing class. So then, he got the absolute pleasure of writing an essay about a stupid, Victorian-era play he didn't read regarding the symbolism of a hat as it related to...foreshadowing, or something. 

He didn't read it. He only signed up for this dumb writing seminar because the timing worked better on his schedule. He'd much rather be taking the writing class about horror novels. But unfortunately, that one happened during his mandatory physics course.

When it was all over and he finally caught sight of his pillow, he was pretty sure he’d shed a single tear. Did he remember sinking into the mattress? Closing his eyes, and drifting off?

No. He didn't. 

He was fucking tired.

But apparently, the universe did actually hate him because instead of being roused by his alarm the next morning, he was shaken by his ghost sense.

Oh yeah, apparently Skulker found his dorm.

Joy!

No seriously, fuck that guy. 

What the hell kind of sick weirdo wants to make a rug out of someone else's skin, anyway? Not to mention that Skulker had no conception of what a good time to hunt was, considering he seriously was trying to start chaos at five in the fucking morning.

Again, fuck that guy.

He only just barely had enough time to fly home, shower, hastily read over and submit his essay (he'd long since learned from high school that he couldn't trust himself that late at night to be coherent), and make a mad dash to his favorite bagel spot on the way to class.

However, the bagel guy—he had a name, Danny was almost sure—must have been under the weather today because, for some reason, he could not stop staring at Danny.

The instinct to run his hand over his face to check for post-fight ectoplasm splatters was a learned reaction at this point. But this time, he couldn't feel anything off. His skin was dry. Cold, like usual, but dry.

"Uh..." The bagel guy continued staring at him slack-jawed.

"Do I have something on my face?" 

That seemed to shake the bagel guy out of his stupor. He blinked, his eyes darting around to catch the eye of a few other customers who, for some reason, were giving Danny a really wide berth.

Did he smell or something? Had he forgotten to put his deodorant on?

Oh god, did his parents do something to make national news again? Did the news use a family photo when reporting the story or something? Why was everyone looking at him? Seriously, what the hell was going on today?

The bagel guy locked eyes with Danny once more, briefly, before darting back down to the register and handing Danny his change. "One everything bagel with cream cheese for the, uh—for—coming right up."

"Thanks," Danny said, trying to be as friendly as possible. Jazz always said that he shouldn't judge people for acting strange. That they could be going through something personal.

So, Danny shook it off. Maybe he missed a chunk of ectoplasm on his hair when he was showering. Skulker had nailed his shoulder pretty well. The green, ecto-infused smoothie he'd sipped that morning was working its magic to mend his skin, but who knew? Maybe a little bit of blood was leaking through his shirt. It wouldn't be the first time that happened, anyway.

Or the last.

Amazingly, he did get his bagel. But when the man handed it to Danny, his eyes were almost popping out of his skull. His heavily accented, "Ah, here is one—ah, your—your bagel," sounded especially halted today. 

But no. The big, gruff bagel guy wouldn't have stuttered. He wouldn't have been nervous to pass a bagel to a tired-looking college student either.

Danny must have misheard. 

He darted down the sidewalk. He was going to be late for class. And it was because of his internal panic that he didn't notice the girl with her nose buried in her cell phone at first. Not until she almost crashed into him, looked up, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"HOLY SHIT!" she yelled, her hands flailing beside her. Her phone flew out from her fingers and clattered on the pavement.

"Sorry!" Danny scooped up her phone from the ground and handed it to her.

She stared at him as if he were completely insane, making no move to take the phone until Danny leaned forward a little closer and pointedly said, "Here."

Whether or not this girl was hungover or still drunk from whatever party she'd been at the night before, Danny did not have time to work around her brain. He was going to be late for class!

"Fuck," she said, eyes still glued on Danny. She did, however, finally reach out and gently take the offered cell phone.

Which was all he needed.

Mission accomplished, he whirled back around intending on continuing his fast-walk-nearly-run pace to the science building, but caught the eye of a biker who seemed to go into a similar trance as the bagel guy and ended up crashing straight into a parked car.

"Oh my god!" Danny darted over to the strewn biker. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! Stay back!" the man yelled, struggling up and holding his hand out to block Danny from seeing his face.

Was this guy...cowering at him? Like he was some sort of ghost?

No, no. This was silly. Now Danny was just being paranoid.

"Just stay back!"

An oddly phrased demand, and a little biting at that, but the biker did just crash into a parked car because of Danny and that other girl—who was currently holding her phone up at Danny—so he guessed he could forgive this random dude for being a little snappish.

Danny didn't have time to dwell on this stranger anyway, because holy shit his class was starting in ten minutes and if Danny didn't get his ass to the room right now he was going to be screwed.

So with one more apology to the biker, and one more glance to the strange phone-obsessed girl, Danny adjusted the strap of his bag back over his shoulder and took off down the road.

Not literally took off. Though, he really wanted to jet through the air today. He'd had these urges to duck out of sight and fly to class before, but it never felt so compelling as right now. 

Unfortunately, the street was crowded as shit, and in between classes as it was, the building would likely be crowded too. Finding a discreet place to transform would probably take just as long as running to the classroom like his half-life depended on it. And so, the latter option it was.

Somehow, he managed to make it to class with five minutes to spare. Okay, maybe not somehow. Maybe he did risk using his flight to propel him forward a little bit. Could anyone blame him? 

College was crazy. And anyone who thought they saw a guy not quite touching the ground when he walked could have just as easily been sleep-deprived and were almost certainly hallucinating. Humans couldn't fly! Only ghosts could fly, and Danny Fenton was clearly a human college student just running to class.

Gaslight, gatekeep, ghostboss—or whatever the saying was.

Energy was buzzing in Danny’s veins, and he found it a little difficult to stay in his seat. An aftereffect of only barely using his flight powers, he was sure. His body got a taste of being airborne, and now it didn't want to return to the laws of gravity.

Danny could forgive his ghost core for that. Gravity could be very exhausting sometimes. Especially when he was in the middle of a ghost fight and his enemy was hurling him to the ground.

But he was in a lecture, and it would look weird if this random college student was hovering over his seat, so Danny forced his butt onto the chair as he dropped his bag beside him.

Whispers fluttered around him, which wasn't too unusual. People often talked in pleading freak-out whispers to their friends after an especially grueling night of homework.

Danny was about to turn to his chemistry lecture buddy and do the same—because seriously, he was going to have nightmares over that damn assignment for weeks—when he realized that his chemistry buddy was not in his usual seat.

And then, a whisper caught the attention of his enhanced eardrum.

"...ghost..."

"...Phantom..."

Ah, that explained it. 

Oh yeah, it was all coming together now.

They must have been talking about the ghost fight from this morning, the one with Skulker. This city wasn't Amity Park, so the students here weren't exactly used to ghost attacks. Of course, the initial fight was probably very exciting for them.

And, well, his parents probably were on the news that morning, but likely only to be interviewed about the attack. Maybe they ended up rambling about ghostly habits and migration patterns or whatever other bullshit theories they’d been churning with recently.

So then, the bagel guy must have recognized Danny as a Fenton, a child of Jack and Maddie, the infamous, kooky ghost experts.

The effects of that realization were delayed, but when they finally hit, he felt like his brain was hit by a semi-truck. Because, shit. He didn't know if he could deal with his bagel guy knowing who he was. He was going to have to find a new bagel spot, wasn't he? 

Danny craned his neck over to the door. The lecture was supposed to be starting, but his chemistry buddy was nowhere to be found.

But then, to his immense relief that he wouldn't have to suffer through this lecture by himself, the door opened to reveal the tall, lanky form of Cameron, his chemistry buddy.

Danny eagerly moved his bag out of the way of Cam's seat, his woes of that fucking assignment hot on his lips, but before he could begin his trauma-dumping session, something strange happened.

Really, really strange.

As Cam began habitually walking over to his seat, he looked up, caught Danny's eye, and froze.

His mouth parted into a perfect 'o,' his eyes widened, and his eyebrows disappeared under his hairline. Then, he backed up, caught the bewildered expression of another student near him, and moved to another aisle.

Danny sat there too stunned to call out to Cam, though the intent was at the precipice of his being. Hurt stabbed his gut, and the social anxiety the A-List had trained his brain for in high school started creeping up his spine.

Did Danny do something wrong? 

Why had Cam moved away?

What did that look to the other kid mean?

He tried to think of a reason why Cam might have suddenly decided that Danny was a weirdo freak that should be avoided, but the only thing he remembered doing between yesterday and today was the two texts he'd sent at eleven last night complaining about the assignment. But surely, everyone had complained, right?

Or was the assignment genuinely effortless for everyone? And Danny was just an idiot who didn't understand some really simple concept, and now Cam had suddenly realized that he'd picked the wrong chemistry buddy to sit next to in class?

That must have been it.

Why else had he moved away?

Danny turned around, looking to the back of the lecture hall. But all he could see was a sea of faces all looking at him.

Okay, honestly, what the fuck was wrong with everyone today?

He whipped out his phone, paranoia striking through his gut like a spear. Maybe he'd accidentally revealed himself during the fight? But he checked Google, searching for Phantom's human identity, but all he got at the top of the search were old Reddit threads theorizing about which historical figure he could have been, and celebrity news sites spouting completely absurd clickbait-type theories about his past.

Is Danny Phantom Napoleon's son?

Could Danny Phantom be Related to George Washington?

New Theory Suggests Danny Phantom is Alexander the Great!

Yeah, like Danny was leading legions of ghosts around Europe anytime soon.

As Danny wracked his brain for what the hell he'd done to deserve the wrath of having his classmates stare at him like he was some sort of weird alien species and everyone was plotting on how to initiate first contact, the side door opened and the professor came darting in the hall with a stack of folders all but falling out of his hands and a muttering of breathy, "sorry, sorry," light on his lips.

The muttering broke out into jilted, uncomfortable laughter, and Danny still couldn't help the feeling that they were laughing at him. 

He tried to brush that off as just the remnants of his high school on him and keep his attention focused on his short, salt-and-pepper-haired professor who looked like he couldn't remember if he was going to a beach party or Burning Man today, and decided to dress for both. 

Yang put the manila folders down on the front table, miraculously without spilling any of the contents inside, set his bag down on the rolling chair beside him, and picked up a piece of chalk to face the board.

He held a hand up and began writing Chemistry 101 — Stoichiometry on the board.

Behind Danny, the snickers grew louder. 

Was there some inside joke that he just wasn't getting? Had his classmates prepared some sort of prank for the teacher today and Danny hadn't read the email? Was it April Fool's Day, even though logic and reasoning told Danny that it was only October?

"Sorry I was late, everyone," Yang began. "Now if you don't mind, I want to begin by going over a few problems from last night's assignment. I noticed a pattern in the problems everyone was getting wrong..."

Someone coughed rather obnoxiously behind him.

Danny felt ice begin to build in his stomach. 

"...so as you can see here, I noticed a lot of people forgot to calculate the used excess of iron to find the amount of excess reactants. Remember, guys, you can't just subtract the bigger and smaller masses in the problem..."

Another obnoxious cough. 

Yang didn't break stride. "...you have to actually convert it to moles and set up your mole ratio, and then convert back to grams. I mentioned this in class but it seemed like too many of you—"

"Professor Yang?" the impatient voice of Brittany, one of his classmates, said from behind.

The class broke out in a fit of whispers and giggles, this time not even trying to hide their restlessness.

"What is it?" Yang turned around, his chalk still hovering on the board.

And then he looked at Danny. His eyes bugged out like a cartoon, sticking out beyond the rims of his glasses. His jaw opened and closed like a fish, and he dropped the chalk on the floor.

Now, the class was roaring with noise.

Danny stared eye-to-eye with the professor for ten seconds or ten minutes. He didn't know which, and it didn't matter anyway, because then Yang's thin lips opened to exclaim a word that may as well have electrocuted him all over again:

"Phantom?" 

Confusion and panic hit Danny like a sledgehammer.

How did Yang know he was Phantom? Had he been revealed? Did everyone know he was Phantom?

And then he heard the whispers. 

"It's really him! It's Phantom!"

"Why is he here?"

"It's Phantom!"

No!

No!

How did everyone know his secret?

Danny had to stop this.

He had over four years of hiding his ghost half from his parents, the world, and most impressively, his parents. Over the years, he'd honed his ability at lying and using his silver tongue to smooth over situations with such practiced ease, he was expecting his Oscar in the mail any day now.

Which is why, like an utter pro, he jumped up from his seat and shouted, "It's a lie, I'm not a ghost!"

The room went silent, and then was launched into a frenzy.

"Phantom!"

"Is he delusional?"

"It's really him! It's Phantom!"

His panic was bordering on hysteria as it stampeded over him, beating his core so furiously that Danny thought it was going to jump through his ribcage.

He stood, his gloved hands held out in front of him as he began his best at pleading with the masses, but before he could grovel too much, Professor Yang's voice sliced through him like a knife, calling out, "Phantom! What are you doing in my class?"

Wait...

Gloved hand?

Danny looked at his hands again. They were gloved.

And glowing.

The relief was so heavy on his shoulders, his back, and every inch of his skin. It was also mortifying.

Because here he was, in his Chemistry 101 class not as Fenton, but as Phantom. 

"Holy shit," Danny muttered. 

What. The. Hell.

No, really.

What the hell?

How was this happening?

Had he really been so tired that he'd forgotten to change out of his Phantom form after Skulker's fight?

No, hang on—had he been walking around in his Phantom form all morning?

How had he not noticed?

Then all the memories came flying back to him at once. The bagel guy acting weird, staring at him like he wasn't sure if he should seriously give a ghost a bagel because "Do ghosts need to eat? Is human food poison?"

And then the girl. She hadn't screamed because she nearly crashed into a stranger, she screamed and threw her phone in the air because she'd nearly crashed into Phantom. And that's why she was recording him after, too. She was recording Phantom, a ghost that wasn't native to this college town.

Danny thought he'd die of cringe-fail right there because that meant she also recorded the biker crashing into a parked car and was probably uploading it to TikTok later. He was sure it would be trending in minutes.

That was, if she hadn't already uploaded it to Tiktok, and it wasn't already trending. His phone suddenly felt heavy in his pocket. 

He looked around at the faces of intrigue and excitement, feebly attempting to squash the anxiety that was currently tap dancing over his skin.  Okay, so his initial attempt at acting hadn't gone so well. That was okay; nobody could be perfect all the time. If he just channeled the inner cool and suave hero that he was, he could totally save the situation.

For sure.

He floated a few feet in the air. His legs felt awkward sprawled out, and he tried to form a ghost-tail, but somehow his sense of self was too strong for that today. No matter, to balance it out, he splayed his arms out wide and began doing jazz hands, saying, "It's me! Danny Phantom! Just here checking your classroom for ghosts!" 

There was a moment of collective pause before his brain caught up with what his mouth said, and then he scrambled, making a big show of ducking around the room to search for...ghosts, or something. He lowered to the floor to check under the auditorium chairs, flew to the front of the room to peek around the tables, and finally went up to the ceiling to glance around the four corners of the room.

Once he felt embarrassed enough, he stopped in the center of the room, puffed out his chest, and said, "Good news, citizens! There are no ghosts in this room!"

Whispers and mutters once again broke out from his classmates, along with a few giggles. In the front of the classroom, Yang's head was craned up to look at him, his expression showing pure bafflement. 

Okay, Danny was bombing this set. He was catching onto the vibe of the room, and had come to this very astute conclusion: there was no saving this. 

Time to abort the mission.

"Well, that will be all! Have a fun class learning about chemistry!" 

And then, without another word, he jetted through the wall and into the hallway of the building, turning invisible immediately. Fortunately, with classes having started several minutes ago, the corridors were mostly empty. Only a few stragglers remained, booking it down the halls and trying to duck inconspicuously into their classrooms. 

Danny cut around a corner of the hall where, thankfully, no one was standing. That didn't stop him from triple-checking over his shoulder (it was just the water fountain, Danny) before he let his ring wash over him.

Then, when he was sure he was human again this time, he ran down the hall and pushed open the auditorium door to his class which, by the looks of things, hadn't calmed down from their encounter yet.

The door hit the wall with a bang—oops, he thought he hadn't pushed so hard—and then every head was turned to him.

"Sorry!" Danny rubbed the back of his neck and gestured vaguely to the clock on the wall. "I lost track of time."

The room was...silent. Incredibly, confoundingly silent. 

That wasn't good.

On instinct, Danny glanced down again to make sure that he was wearing his red hoodie and blue jeans and not his Phantom black and white jumpsuit. He was, in fact, wearing the right clothes. And out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the glint of his black bangs.

So then, what the fuck?

Alright, there was no need to panic. He was human, his classmates were human, they'd just met Phantom, and now Danny was busting in the classroom late. It wouldn't be the first time he was late to class, anyway. Lots of students were late for chemistry! 

With his brain sufficiently pep-talked, he pointed as inconspicuously to his seat as he could and said, "I'll just...take my seat." 

No one responded, so he took that as his cue to begin his walk of shame up the steps of the auditorium aisles to his usual seat near the front, which was still amazingly void of students anywhere near it.

"Phantom?" a voice rang out from the spattering of students around the room.

Danny missed the next step and ate shit on the floor. His bag hit his back heavily, and he could have sworn his shoe nearly flew off his feet. He scrambled to stand, his hand missing the railing only once, before he managed to stand back proud and tall. Sort of. His backpack had slid off one shoulder, and his body was hunched forward and he tried to regain his breath because holy shit, it actually really hurt for his torso to land on the corner of the step.

He rubbed his sternum, sure it was going to bruise, and coughed out, "Uh—what?"

"Phantom!" the voice, now too familiar, repeated. "You're him. Phantom."

Danny glanced up, and dread not only slammed into him with the force of a semi, but also backed up and floored it into his soul again. And again.

Because that voice was none other than his Chem 101 buddy, Cam.

No, Danny was a magnificent actor. He surely could save this one.

What did people always say? Something about the third try being a charm?

He could really use a charm right now. Unfortunately, Murphy seemed keen on watching him suffer instead.

"No—no way! I'm not a ghost! I'm totally human, guys! See?" Danny said with quite a lot of conviction, waving his hands beside his body like some sort of circus display.

It was so conclusive of a performance, that Cam simply laughed. 

Shit. This was not how he wanted today to go at all.

"I can't believe I never put it together before! Did people really buy that in your hometown?" 

"What act? I'm not acting!" Danny insisted.

But his classmates, it seemed, were even less convinced. 

"Seriously, it's so obvious."

"How did no one notice?"

"They're literally the same person it's crazy."

"What? No! No we're not the same person!" Danny insisted, trying not to sound desperate and hopelessly failing. "He's my—uh—twin? Yeah, that. He's my twin."

"He's obviously not," a classmate said.

"He is. He died in the womb," Danny refuted.

"Okay, now you're just being ridiculous."

"Does it sound better or worse if I say that my mother drank ectoplasmic smoothies while she was pregnant and that's why he turned into a ghost?"

"Fenton!" Professor Yang called out.

Danny felt his blood turn so cold they started forming frost in his veins. 

And then, he refused to look down because he was pretty sure ice crystals were glueing his feet to the floor.

In his panic, he'd totally forgotten that this was, in fact, a classroom. With a professor. And not just any professor, his chemistry professor. As in, the guy that had the sole power of crushing all of Danny's dreams of working for NASA via the power of the curve.

Yang took a step back, colliding with the chalkboard behind him and smearing white dust all over his brightly-colored shirt. But he ignored this, instead finding it more pertinent to fold his arms and regard Danny with a look of pure incredulation. "Are you really Phantom?"

"What? No!" Danny said. However, as luck would have it, that gasping answer caused him to inhale the wrong way, and coughs shot up his throat to overtake his body.

And then like the valiant superhero he was, he began having a coughing fit. In front of his classmates.

He knew Sam and Tucker always called him a dork, but this was really unfair.

"You okay, Phantom?" one student asked.

Danny tried to argue, "I'm not Phantom," but unfortunately for him, he hadn't stopped coughing yet.

Taking his silence for a confirmation that he was in fact the elusive ghost known as Phantom, another classmate commented, "I didn't know Phantom breathed."

Not-so-quiet whispers and mutters broke out around the class at once discussing theories of his cardiovascular system.

All while Danny was doubled over, trying desperately to reclaim what little of his dignity was still left. As well as reclaim some of the oxygen that his body seemed more than willing to push away for some reason.

Seriously, was he out of karma yet? 

Okay, Universe, if this is your way getting back at me for reading the Cliffnotes of that book for the essay last night, I get it. Cheating is bad, blah blah blah. I'm very sorry in a deeply remorseful way, so can we please stop ruining my life now?

"...so he wouldn't need to breathe!" A classmate's voice had stepped above the rest.

"That's what I said!"

"Dude, he's literally fallen asleep on my floor once. I'm telling you he needs to breathe."

That voice must have been Cam's.

Danny took a deep breath, regaining control of his lungs. "Wait, guys!"

But it was too late. And, oh god, why were people now giggling over their phones? Had someone taken a video of him earlier? Was he trending online right now?

If this got back to Sam and Tucker, he was never going to live this down. 

"Okay, okay!" Yang's voice rose in volume. "Class, settle down!"

The class went silent.

"Alright, I know we are all curious to know about Fenton's secret double life—"

"I don't have a secret double life!"

"Sure you don't, Phantom," Cam said.

"—But please, we do actually have quite a bit of material to cover today, judging by the very impressive homework scores from last night. And, by the way, class, might I remind you all that my office hours are on Mondays and Wednesdays from two to four. I won't name names, but I'll just say that if you need to make it a point to come for some review, you know who you are."

Was Yang looking at him?

"Regardless, if Fenton is done screwing around with his ghost powers, we do need to get through the material sometime this year."

"But I'm not a ghost!" Danny protested.

"Dude, you're standing in a block of ice," a classmate argued. 

"Holy shit, he froze his legs to the floor!"

Danny felt frost on his cheeks. "The A/C system is broken! Everyone knows that!"

"The ice is glowing." 

"So? A lot of ice glows."

"Fenton, please." Yang had never sounded so disappointed in his life. "I'd expect anyone in this class to know that ice is made of which elements?"

Danny hated where this was going. "Hydrogen and oxygen."

"And please describe the bonds to me."

"The hydrogens have a double bond with the oxygen, and then there's two pairs of electrons leftover."

"What shape?" Yang pressed, pushing his wiry glasses up his nose.

"Bent."

"Good, thank you. So we have two hydrogen and one oxygen in an H20 molecule, yes? And so tell me, would that configuration with those two elements cause anything to glow?"

"Um, no." Danny had the sudden urge to die. "Water does not glow." 

"But, interestingly, ectoplasmic water does glow, correct? Because....?"

They'd touched over ecton science earlier in the semester. "Because ectons are larger and can sit closer to the nucleus which results in atoms fusing and due to the greater amounts of energy they emit, some this excess energy can be seen in our visible spectrum."

Yang smiled and then gestured to the seat devoid of any humans near it that Danny, previously Phantom, had been sitting in at the start of class. "Thank you, Mr. Phantom. Now, if we're all done dillydallying, we have some stoichiometry to go over."

It took Danny more than a second of the awkward silence that followed to realize that oh yeah, his feet were literally frozen in place.

"So..." He glanced around the room, meeting the expectant gazes of his classmates. "Just to be clear, none of you care that I might potentially be..."

A ghost?

Phantom?

Some sort of weird mutant hybrid thing?

"Danny, you're the only one making a big deal out of this," a classmate answered.

Danny guffawed.

"Yeah, it's whatever. You're dead, so what? We're all dead in college. You're not special."

"I have a biology lecture later right after this for my weed-out course and going to that is basically the same thing as dying, I'm pretty sure," Cam joined in.

Danny resisted the urge to smack his forehead with his open palm.

He turned back to Yang. "And if I were maybe the—uh—being that kind of has saved humanity from being invaded by ghosts give or take one or two times, would that maybe get me extra credit on the next test?"

"No."

Well, that was a brutally quick response.

Danny shrugged. "It was worth a shot." He reigned in on his core's fluttering, and the ice began to melt around his feet. 

He tried to ignore the obvious phone flipped his way as he did.

Shit, this was going to be all over social media later. How embarrassing. He could only hope that Tucker wouldn't find it. But who was he kidding? If he checked his phone, he bet he already had about sixteen messages from Tucker laughing at his misfortune.

Once he finished freeing himself from his ecto-ice like some ghost toddler, he began a very graceful and humiliating trek to his seat, complete with multiple instances of him bumping into chairs as he trudged down the row. When he finally reached his seat, it was just his luck that the rusty hinges let out an obnoxious creaking wail as he lowered himself down. He winced, hissing out apologies, but in the silent hall, the sounds of the withered metal were almost too much to bear.

It was for that reason that his entire body refused to unclench until the professor was well underway with his lecture about excess reactants and whatever else they were going to be quizzed on next week.

He tried his best to pay attention and not check his phone for the no doubt endless notifications. He'd already made his presence too obvious in this hall, anyway. Professor Yang would have been thoroughly annoyed if, after everything, Danny decided to spend the remainder of the class on his phone.

Miraculous as it was, he did manage to survive the lecture.  

After class when he finally was able to check his phone, he saw that the world was too focused on the viral posts about Phantom being spotted outside of Amity Park to give any attention to the little itty bitty post of Danny, in human form, frozen to his lecture hall floor.

As it turned out, that post only had two likes—one of them was Tucker—and one comment from a random user reading, "lol why phantom freeze that dweeby kid to the ground???"

Danny didn't resist the urge to facepalm this time, and in fact did it so hard he was surprised he didn't give himself a concussion.

Well.

At least his secret was safe.

****

"You really don't care that I'm Phantom, do you?" Danny asked, looking up from the barely clean dorm room floor that his back was currently stretched out against.

"No?" Cam glanced from his notebook. "Why?"

"Uh, I figured the whole part where I'm a part ghost would have been a little weird?"

Cam's thin brows shot up to his hairline. "You're only a part ghost?"

"Yeah? Why, what did you think?"

"Oh, I just figured you were legit dead or something."

Cam uttered those words with such nonchalance that Danny reacted immediately, shooting up from the floor so hard he accidentally switched into his Phantom form.

"You thought I was dead?" His voice echoed when he spoke, and his ghostly tail wiggled underneath him. 

Cam's pointed look and handwave were explanation enough.

"Okay, you know what? That's fair." Danny swiped his notebook off the floor and forced his adrenaline-spiked body back into human form. "That's actually super fair."

"Yeah I mean, being a ghost is sort of Phantom's whole shtick, anyway."

"Right but like...wait, you didn't even care that you thought I was a fully dead and deceased ghost taking college classes? And you still wanted to do homework with me tonight?"

Cam, once again, only gave a very lazy shrug. "Well, yeah. I just want to pass this class, dude, and we've already established that we should tag-team team this class instead of trying to rawdog it by ourselves."

"I mean...I guess?" Danny blinked at his friend, his mind reeling with astonishment. "You're weird, you know that?"

"Says the ghost-human person or whatever. Now, are we gonna finish this prelab assignment, or are you gonna keep having an existential crisis about your place in the Universe?" 

Danny slid back on the floor, propping his knees up to lay his notebook against. "No, you're right. We need to finish this prelab."

"Thank fucking god."

****

[read more of my stuff here]

[robincantfunction]

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 ♪

pt. 11

|series masterlist|main masterlist|taglist|

ex bf - friend!james potter x reader (platonic)

bf sirius black x reader

summary: after sirius left his family, james starts to realise quite how badly he screwed up, and although he appears to already be forgiven by everyone involved, there’s one last person that still hasn’t. himself. (this is quite repetitive i won’t lie, but it’s mostly just a look into james’ guilt.)

warnings: kinda angsty on james’ part. swearing, mention of hospitals, smoking (just cigarettes), talks of cheating, self loathing from james - i have a habit of writing james really ooc, so hopefully this has redeemed it slightly. because we all know if james cheated on someone his guilt would be through the roof. i should also mention, sometimes this series (especially this part) might seem a little bit like i’m condoning cheating, and like it’s not a big deal. i assure you that’s not the case, and if y/n was my friend i might have to stage an intervention.

a/n: this randomly switches from lowercase to not all lowercase, back to lowercase again cause during my 8 month hiatus i put my caps lock on and off again and couldn’t be bothered to change it, and i started writing this before i took an unplanned break.

but anyway hello! i’m back. hopefully for a while cause i have some wip’s that i’m very excited to start writing again. but yes i hope this was worth the wait (it probably wasn’t)

gif not mine

when lily wasn’t there for him to be blinded, he started to notice the reasons he began to fall for y/n in the first place. of course, he wasn’t going to do anything. she was happy, he was happy. but seeing her happy with someone else made him admittedly more jealous than it should’ve. he broke her heart, he left her alone, it was his fault. he shouldn’t have been upset, but standing in st. mungos seeing y/n curled up into sirius’ side asleep whilst he was looking at her, just studying all of her features, and playing with her hair, he felt a pang to his heartstring. but if he was completely honest with himself, instead of living in a constant state of denial, he would have realised that feeling wasn’t jealousy. it was guilt. because watching them made him think about when he could have had that, and he threw her on the floor like he would a crumpled up potions essay.

“prongs, mate. sit down. y’alright?” sirius said softly, as to not make him jump, and to not wake up y/n. james chuckled slightly, bringing a chair beside his bed. using the same soft tone, he responded “you’re in a hospital bed, and you’re asking if i’m alright?” sirius shrugged with a slight laugh “y’just looked a bit in your own head s’all.” james nodded, barely meeting sirius’ eye “d’you think she hates me?” he nudged his head towards y/n, worried of what sirius would think his question insinuates.

“well… i don’t know. i don’t think so. she was a wreck, james, but i don’t think she could ever really hate you.” taking a bit of a pause, he thought about his next words carefully. “she really struggled, y’know. found it hard to find a reason to get out of bed. thought she wasn’t good enough, not just for you, but for the world. it took its toll. but…” he looked down at her then back at james, stroking and playing with her hair unconsciously. “if she hated you she wouldn’t have cared she wasn’t good enough, she wouldn’t have tried to keep the peace when with our friends, she would have shown you how mad and sad she was, instead of letting you be happy because that’s all that mattered.” james looked relieved, but his speech didn’t do much for his guilt. but that was ok, he deserved the guilt. he knew that.

“so to answer your question, i don’t know. because i’m not y/n, but i do know her. and i can safely say that if she truly hated you, she would have done everything in her power to ruin your happiness. but she didn’t. she didn’t even tell anyone what happened.”

those words were stuck on a loop in james’ head for about a week. over and over, each words replayed with a different meaning. each word held a story, her story, his story, their story. and each one ended with lily and james. but not all of them ended with sirius, because what if? what if sirius hated james for initially ruining his chances with the girl he liked? what if he didn’t stick around? what if he wasn’t there to save the day when y/n needed him?

what if?

what if?

what if?

every time it would just get louder, the voice in the back of his mind. “you could have ruined her belief in love.” “you could have left her alone and someone might not have been there for her.” “you were so selfish, sleeping with lily.” it all drowned out and merged into one big noise, every voice somehow making an appearance every time he opened his eyes, closed his eyes, looked the other way, turned around…

“james.” he was cut off by y/n, her and sirius were staying with him for the rest of the summer. sirius because he had no where else to go, and y/n because neither her nor sirius wanted to leave the other. both james and his parents were understanding, and he wasn’t going to get in the way of her happiness again. “what’s wrong?” she asked, mildly concerned by his behaviour the past couple of days.

“I just want to say sorry” she cocked her head in confusion. “Sorry? Why?” He chuckled humourlessly. “I was a selfish dick to you, who used you to get over a girl i slept with not too long afterwards. And you’re asking me what I’m sorry for?” She shook her head. “James I don’t care anymore. Ok, I was hurt. I wanted to hate you. But I wouldn’t have Sirius without what happened. Because we’d have broken up in a nice clean way, and sirius wouldn’t be needed to help my heartbreak. Things happen for a reason, james. Don’t beat yourself up so much”

That conversation stuck with him, he never thought he’d be missing y/n. And he wasn’t, not really. He was just hiding behind denial and guilt, forcing himself to belief that he hurt her beyond repair. turns out hindsight is a bitch, and james didn’t know how to handle it. he always prided himself in being a classic, charming ‘nice’ guy. but what he did was anything but, and he couldn’t stop the thoughts swirling around his mind telling him that he was a bad person, that he didn’t deserve y/n when he had her, and he certainly doesn’t deserve lily now.

————

james was standing outside his house in the rain, hiding in the little shelter near the back door, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket, along with a lighter. as he was fumbling with the box, trying to get one out and light it, his mind was continuing to wander. over the past two weeks he was being plagued by guilt, by the idea that he could have hurt someone so badly that they could have stopped believing in something like love. in something that he strongly believed was one of the best things anyone could ever experience.

he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear sirius open the back door, also sneaking out for a cheeky cigarette whilst y/n was getting ready for bed.

“didn’t realise you were anything more than a social smoker, prongs”

he jumped at sirius’ words, making the boy across from him chuckle as he, too, pulled out a pack from his coat. “well, not normally. just too much going on in my head at the minute, needed something to take the edge of, i guess.” sirius nodded, hesitating slightly before he spoke. “yeah, i noticed that. seriously, prongs, what’s going on. you’ve been acting funny since me and y/n/n got here. since st. mungos. do you not want us here? cause we can-“

james was quick to cut him off “no. no! it’s not that, i just-“ he stopped for a minute, debating whether or not he should be honest with sirius. “i keep thinking about what i did. about the way i treated y/n. and i know- i know that she’s ok, and i know that you two may never have been together if i didn’t, but- but that’s still a person that i hurt. that i completely disregarded the feelings off for my own selfish reasons. when i could have just had a conversation with her and everything would have been fine.” he took a breath and looked up from where he’d been gazing down at his shoes, trying to judge how sirius was going to act based off of his face. he didn’t know what he was expecting, but he certainly wasn’t expecting the sympathetic half smile that he was currently wearing. “i didn’t have to hurt her, if i’d have walked her back to her dorm when she was drunk, like any decent person would have, we’d have spoken about it and we’d have probably broken up before we even got to her common room. but i didn’t. i chose to hurt her”

after he’s finished speaking sirius shook his head slightly, taking a long drag of his cigarette whilst trying to form the right words to say, without trying to add to james’ guilt. “mate, everyone makes mistakes. granted, it was a shitty, shitty mistake. but a mistake is a mistake. and it’s not ok, and you did hurt her, a lot. but you feel guilty about it. most people that cheat don’t care, it’s a game to them. they’re happy to pretend like nothing happened and all is still perfectly fine. but you’ve been torn up about this for weeks, probably more than that. it’s just finally sinking in. y/n’s okay prongs. she’s okay. and as shitty as it was, everything happens for a reason.” just as he finished speaking he saw y/n through the window on the back door. he gestured to her that he’d be inside in a second, and gave her a smile. she smiled back and he watched as she walked towards the kitchen.

smiling slightly at the look on his friends face, james nudged sirius with his shoulder “you really love her, pads… don’t you?” sirius was quick to nod his head absentmindedly, before his eyes went wide. he looked at james before nodding his head again, this time really letting it sink in. “yeah, yeah i guess i do.”

————————

aghhhhh thank you for reading that and sorry for the long wait. hopefully the next part shouldn’t take nearly as long. honestly i don’t know if i like this, but oh well. it was always going to be a filler chapter, but yeah hopefully it’s not too bad.

taglists:

d.t.n.f.a.j @jessyballet @Snigdha-14 @haroldpotterson @cherryslushyslut @nyks-bella-blog @aliendemigods @wherewitcheslive @adriennebarnes @espressopatronum454 @thepersonbeep1 @melliegorl @idli-dosa @siriusdumblittlepuppy @allise4 @blackqueens01 @-kazbekkarluvbot- @directionerarianator @theonethatmustnotbenamed @mortui--flores @ilovedilfs32 @allise4 @eclipsedsuns @rslry @cassiopeia1042 @hcloangcls

j.p @kissmeunicornbaobei @s8liva @momoewn @roundbrownlover @slut-for-matt-murdock @chandlemania @cassiopeia1042 @hcloangcls

s.b @messy-insomniac @imintofictionalmen @spookybooisa @siriuslyjanhvi @blackst0nes7077 @sassybadqueen @itzzzzcookie @x-heartrender-x @j-cat @nestiaisgod @kissmeunicornbaobei @dcvilslvr @momoewn @roundbrownlover @eyelovelhh @slut-for-matt-murdock @chandlemania @cassiopeia1042 @hcloangcls

(sorry it’s been so long quite a lot of people’s names have changed. also if you don’t want to be on the taglist anymore just let me know! :)

[jesus-camp-the-sequel]

I had an online timed history test today and I think I went through all 5 stages of grief while taking it

[toiletwipes]

simpbur's college roommate

tw: obsession, possessiveness? not really tbh, simpbur is caught, overstim, vibrator, afab body, vaginal penetration, pretty boy is thrown around and so is good boy, praise, maybe a tiny bit degrading, im just a little bit scared to look through this to check for anything else. its not bad but im just scared i'll delete this if i dont post it now.

1.7k words, so not that long but I promised you guys content so here it is!

-----

it was the smaller things, really.

you wouldn’t notice them, if you weren’t looking for them, type of deal. a shirt that fits you just a little bit too snug so it sits in the back of your closet, or did. an old polaroid with an older friend, faces smiling into the flash of light, it had sat in the bottom of your old memory box, said box gone untouched by you for months. an oversized, raggedy hoodie that you had ditched for a newer, softer coat.

you didn’t want to believe it but at the moment you had bigger fish to fry with schoolwork.

the coat from before sat in your lap at the moment, you parked yourself in the library as you studied with a close friend for some government essay, and you were just nearly finished with the second to last page, when your friend spoke up.

she taps on your arm, pulling out your earbud, “hey, your roommate is will, er, wilbur, right?” you stopped in the middle of a word, lifting your head to meet her eyesight.

“yeah, why? he being creepy or something?” you ask, hoping for a no, he wasn’t bad, but you knew that if anybody else had been his roommate, he would've found himself in trouble during the first week alone.

“no, actually, it’s just- it’s just that, um, are you guys dating?” you snorted, really? you and him? dating?

“he’s cute, but no, why d’ya ask?” you laugh to yourself as you look into your notes as you start typing again.

“well, he’s just been wearing your hoodie, like a lot.” you still, eyebrows furrowing. your hoodie?

“how do you know it's my hoodie?” you look her in her eyes, folding your arms together as you lean back.

“i know for sure its your hoodie because it has that one bleach stain on the front and on the shoulder from when you said you could wear a hoodie and bleach your hair, and the time that you spilt bleach directly onto your hoodie and panicked for five minutes before doing something about it. i know it's yours so why is he wearing it?” your mind is blank as you stuff your things back into your backpack, her sputtering with questions and your lack of answers leaving much to be desired.

but as you exit the building, you shrug your coat as it starts to pour and the dark sky flashes for a moment. you rush in your walking to get to the dorms as soon as possible. just your luck that your dorm is on the other side of the campus. its still about five minutes before you bang on your dorm room. the music blasting on the other side silences as your roommate opens the door, his mouth drops into a round circle and you stare at his chest as you push past him.

“where the hell have you been? it’s barely been pouring!” he sounds off like a rattled hen but you head straight to your room, dumping your backpack and coat on your bed. without an answer, he follows you but any questions he has dries in his mouth as he watches you dig in your closet. pulling a ratty tee shirt and shorts you shrug your soaked shirt over your head.

will has to force himself out of the room but it's not a second later when you come out, hair wet and skin damp when you grab onto his head of hair and pull as you drag him to his room.

throwing him onto the bed, you barely glanced at his face, seeing it already being covered in tears, hands grasping for yours as it leaves him.

you glance around his room before you see the one clean area, his nightstand and dig through that. you found not only items you knew were missing but more, underwear you thought you'd thrown away, a vibrator that you'd thought had gotten stolen by a petty friend, not an obsessive roommate.

and then throwing his closet open, you saw it balled up and thrown in the corner, your hoodie.

taking it out, you push it into will's chest. "dude, literally, what the fuck?" you go to shout at him more but he moves onto his knees, tears dripping and pouring down his cheeks, begging for you to not leave.

"i know i'm a creep, a disgusting one at that, but please don't- please don't leave me, no one's been this nice and stayed with me for this long," he begs and continues to beg as you stand at the foot of his bed, watching as he took a hold of your forearms, rubbing circles into them.

you clasp a hand over his mouth as you coo, shushing him and smoothing over his hair with your other hand.

"my dirty, little stalker doesn't want me to go, but who said i was going to let you leave?" you then pull back on his hair, relishing in the guttural moan that is ripped from his throat, attaching your lips to his neck and climbing into lap, grinding down into the growing bulge in his sweats.

he moans out your name, hands finding purchase wherever he can, gripping your hip and your shoulder, trying to thrust up and meet your hips but you move your hands to hold his hips down.

"no, no, no, good boys take what they're given, that much you've proven, will," you murmur in his ear, slowing the rolls in your hips and watching him writhe beneath you.

"be a good boy for me, huh? are you my pretty boy?" he sobs out a yes as you grind down hard on his cock, the praise going straight to his dick as you mouth bruises into his neck. sucking particularly hard his hands come and circle around your waist, his head hanging onto your shoulder.

"please, please let me-"

"oh no, baby, tonight, it's all about you," you pause, standing up and hearing that beautiful whine pulled from his throat, "your punishment for being a dirty, little whore who wanted all my things for yourself, all of me without me." he shook his head, eyes barely opening as he reaches for you, but you've gone to his nightstand and pulled out the vibrator, turning it on and off and finding it surprisingly still working. well, not that surprising.

"now, you're gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you, or you can be alone," he reaches for you, begging you not to leave him and you can't say you weren't that affected.

something about this tall, greasy simp of a man, who stole your things and wears your old hoodie, begging for you not to go, it just settled nicely in the bottom of your stomach.

you weren't denying you were absolutely soaked by now, shoving your shorts off.

"please, i'll- your good boy, be so good for you-" he cuts himself off as you climb back to straddle his lap, this time rolling your hips once before you turn your vibrator on.

"good, so good for me," you hum as you place the vibrator between your panty-clad folds and his sweatpants-covered-cock. the vibrations sent you to a different plane as you grind into him, listening to the way he cried and the way his legs trembled.

you could tell the next moment, he was about to cum and well, you can't have that, not so soon. "ah, ah, ah," you breathe out, taking the vibe away as you lean back and away from his dick.

he lurched forward and his legs shake again as he's denied an orgasm, he cries out and into your neck.

"is my baby ready for ten more of these?" you ask him and his eyes snap wide open, meeting yours and when a moment passes and you press the vibe back against his dick, he whines.

you weren't kidding about before, it's been about an hour, you think, and he's buried his face in a pillow, crying from the over-stimulation and from not cumming.

you, yourself, have occupied your time with stretching yourself out, three fingers buried deep into your pussy and the sounds coming from it has will peeking out from the pillow, eyes sparkling with that crying glow.

taking your fingers out, and sticking them into his mouth, you move yourself over his lap, taking his cock in your hand as you rub it in between your folds. moaning, you move away as his hips jerk upwards, him biting and crying into his fist.

"my pretty baby, doing so well for me, gonna let me make you feel good? you gonna let me make you cum?" will nods his head and lets out the loudest moan you heard that day when you sink down on his cock.

buried to the hilt, he twitches inside you, and he's begging to cum, "'m gonna, 'm gonna cum, please, plea- need to, i need to cum in you," he begs and who are you to deny your pretty boy that?

"cum for me baby," you say, out of breath as you bounce on his cock, reveling in the slick sounds coming from between y'all. he does cum, hips thrusting upwards to bury himself in you, and you let him. but when you know he's all spent, you start to bounce on his cock, him crying from the over-sensitivity.

"just- just let me cum," you breathe out, balancing yourself with his shoulder and one hand rubbing circles into your clit, moans coming from your mouth as sobs leaves will's.

"oh- oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cry out, squeezing around will and falling on top of his chest.

breathing together, you let yourself have this moment before you get up and moves towards the bathroom. you hear him calling out for you as you grab a damp towel, some water, and a dry towel.

"did you think i was going to leave you, baby?" you ask, mostly not expecting an answer but turning to him as you run the damp cloth over his face and neck, he bit his lip.

"a little bit, yeah."

"well, don't think about that again, because as much as you're weird and steal my shit, you're still important to me," you tell me, "you're my pretty boy and you're going to stay that way."

when you finished cleaning him up and then cleaned yourself, you take the spot next to him and pull the covers over you two.

he leans into your side, pulling you into him, trying to get closer than close.

"you promise?"

you smile to yourself, thinking about having him all to yourself, "i promise."

[gukyi]

the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur. 

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks. 

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all. 

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode. 

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments. 

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did. 

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself. 

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half. 

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you. 

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off. 

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything. 

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong. 

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds. 

It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you. 

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated. 

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly. 

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you. 

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years. 

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost. 

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about. 

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless. 

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together. 

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest. 

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you. 

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement. 

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk. 

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows. 

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click. 

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why. 

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

 “What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair. 

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems. 

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you. 

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship. 

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it. 

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio. 

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic. 

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since. 

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have. 

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows. 

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in. 

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once. 

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this. 

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right? 

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins. 

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing. 

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention. 

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind. 

Another voice breaks you from your trance. 

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide. 

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes. 

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to. 

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you. 

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you. 

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you? 

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence. 

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them? 

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met. 

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor. 

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook. 

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date. 

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this. 

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you. 

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief. 

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it. 

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it. 

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory. 

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away. 

You wonder what he sees. 

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders. 

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door. 

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door. 

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left. 

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind. 

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet. 

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side. 

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet. 

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive. 

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him. 

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them. 

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing. 

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter. 

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash. 

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them. 

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him. 

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card. 

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black. 

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body. 

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is. 

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you. 

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown. 

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back. 

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further. 

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you. 

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him. 

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet. 

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment. 

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester. 

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there. 

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that. 

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk. 

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room. 

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind. 

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world. 

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well. 

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen. 

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written. 

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her. 

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page… 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling. 

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom. 

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else. 

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head. 

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease. 

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart. 

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you. 

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving. 

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless. 

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him. 

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain. 

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing. 

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure. 

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth. 

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about. 

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out. 

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process. 

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world. 

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious. 

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side. 

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her. 

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

[leetotters]

I saw your requests open can you write maybe a hc with professor!chris evans

Bonus points if reader is a cheerleader! i barley see ones with cheerleader thx😚😚

first chris fic, kinda happy its professor!chris also i made reader a cheerleader but idk what the hell is required for it other than the basics! also the reader is over 19+ and chris is about 40 (huge age gap) please don't read if it is a problem!

professor!chris evans x cheerleader!reader

summary: something like request^

you were your university's cheerleader captain, you had good grades, optimistic attitude and well a great ass personality

chris was a middle aged professor, unmarried, his once soft brown locks now silver, his skin slightly wrinkle but damn did he age like fine wine.

most people at your college spoke about the hot history professor, even you, girls would swoon over him during classes not paying any attention to the new topic he would be teaching, their eyes drinking in the sight of him as his muscles flex pointing the board.

chris knew about the foul comments his students made about him, he knew how some of them would stay back after class attempting to seduce him to go in bed with them, he knew the girls wore revealing clothing trying to catch his eye, he knew he was a hot man for his age.

yes, you were one of students who thirsted over professor chris, but you were weren't one to actually seduce the man, you did make impure comments about him but tried to keep them earshot from him, you wore outfits that suited your style, revealing or not, you wore it for yourself.

professor evans was a man of class, not giving in to his horny students throwing themselves at him, he would sometimes chuckle, proud he still had his charm from his youth days to attract others, sometimes he would be grading his history exam papers and would see his name with hearts around it in the corner of the page.

but professor evans had a little secret of his own, a little dirty secret that would probably make him get fired from his paying job, professor evans had eyes for someone and that someone was coincidentally one of his students, yeah, all that class of his is gone when he sees that one cheer captain strutting into his class, her hand holding college colored pompoms and her little cheerleading uniform.

y/n l/n was the name

professor evans would occasionally glance at you in class, you always sat in the fourth row with a few of your friends, to his dismay. he would flash you his pearly smile whenever you answered a question or asked, you were his best student, his best girl.

chris would sometimes stand afar watching you practice with your cheerleading team going through your warm ups and routines, he always got flustered when your skirt would raise showing him more of your smooth thighs

the things he would do to you if he just had the chance he thought to himself more than often, but you wouldn't be intrested with a middle aged man like him..right?

chris leaned back on his chair, checking his watch once more, boredom creeping up on him as he marked some of his students essays, he let out a loud yawn grading the last paper of the second set then going on to the other.

a knock was heard from the other side of the door awakening chris from his sleepy state, 'come in' he shouted groggily, rubbing his droopy eyes thinking who the hell was here at six in the evening

you peeked your head inside, smiling shyly, professor evans eyes darkened a little when he saw you enter, his eyes immediately raking your body, you were dressed in a satin y/f/c pj shirt and shorts, making chris adjust himself at the sight of your bare legs.

'oh y/n, what brings you here' chris inquired resting his pen on his desk and folding his arms pointing you to the seat right across his desk.

you sat down, not really sure yourself why you walked all the way here to his office, 'i'm having a bit of trouble with the new assignment you gave us sir' you lied fiddling with your fingers on your lap from his intense stare

chris grinned nodding his head before speaking, 'trouble? miss l/n, you're top in my class and i'm pretty sure you aren't here to discuss about this assignment' he folded his arms across his chest, the grin still plastered on his lips.

'no sir i'm not' you shook your head, standing from your spot circling your way around his desk to the back of his chair, placing your arms on his shoulders feeling him stiffen up from your touch. you massaged him, rolling your thumbs over his neck then lowering your lip to his ear, 'i came here to see you sir' chris inhaled deeply when the three lettered word left your lips.

'i see the way you look at me' you spoke voice low, licking a strip of his ear, hands still working on his shoulders up to his neck, 'i see you looking at me when i'm practicing' you nibbled his earlobe, teasingly moaning, 'i see your eyes on me during your lessons' you pulled back spinning his chair around, straddling his lap, locking your arms around his neck giving him your alluring smile.

'and i like it sir' you finished, toying with the silver baby hairs behind the nape of his neck, biting your bottom lip and staring up at chris, his green eyes were wide, he slowly leaned in, waiting to see if you would retreat, only to have you smash your lips together with his, your hips grinding on his lap as his hand found a place on your waist raising the material of your body.

chris drew back, his large hand cupping your cheek brushing his thumb under your eye before pressing his lips to yours, slipping his tongue in exploring the insides, 'so fucking sexy y/n' chris groaned, pushing his face between the valley of your exposed breasts leaving soft kisses on both hardened nipples

you hummed still moving your hips on his crotch trying to relieve the insufferable ache between your thighs, 'fuck me sir, fuck my tight pussy, i know you want to' you pleaded, so close to your orgasm that you used chris shoulders to keep up your balance to reach the end state of bliss.

chris thought seeing you in your cheerleading uniform was hot, but this, your orgasmic state was far from that, your lips were parted, nose scrunched and eyes shut as you came in your shorts, your squeals bouncing off the class walls as your grip tightened on chris shoulders.

'fuck doll, you just came by grinding on my lap' your professor spoke his voice dark, his hands kneading the rotund flesh of your covered behind, 'imagine when i actual fuck you with my thick cock' that made you whine automatically, at the mention of his cock.

you were about to respond with a snarky response but a knock to the door made both of you and chris freeze, 'professor evans, may i come in' a high pitched voice asked, surely one of his students who wanted to be in the position you were in a few seconds ago. 'uh just a minute' you quickly slipped your pj shirt over your head, adjusting your moistened shorts getting off of chris lap.

chris pressed his lips to yours once more before letting you go, 'mhm doll, come to my office tomorrow, right after class' he unwillingly pulled back, 'wear that cute little cheerleading uniform of yours too' chris squeezed your waist releasing you from his grip leaving you in a blushing state.

'will do professor' you winked walking out the door swaying your hips sensually knowing his eyes were on you.

-

part two here!

[sour--disposition]

Bad Girlfriend

-

harry lewis x fem!reader

-

@ketamineharry suggested a harry imagine based off of Anne-Marie’s Bad Girlfriend and voila

please check my pinned post for request/prompt info and my masterlist

You cancel plans for me - I cancel ours on you - Say I'd be back early - I don't get in 'til 2 - You ask me where I've been - I tell you something vague - Think I messed up again - What can I say

You were sick and tired of Harry and his behaviour. When you first got together, you chalked his actions up to being young and dumb. And then to getting used to having more money. Then you blamed it on having to deal with so much at such a young age. 

The excuses piled up, one on top of the other. You knew one day it would all come toppling down around you, drowning you and Harry in a sea of problems that you doubted you’d be able to survive. You’d excused cheating, been by his side during hangovers from hell and comedowns that took too long to make Harry realise that the high really wasn’t worth the pain. You’d rubbed his back and handed him bottles of water and paracetamol and nursed him back to health, only for him to go and get in the same state the next weekend and expect you to help him gather the pieces back together again.

You’d tried to patch things up. Every time that you went to Harry to air all your concerns, tell him that if he doesn’t get his act together that you’d leave, and he always promised that things would be better this time. But something would always happen. There’d be plans he’d forget or cancel. He’d get too drunk and end up with hands over another girl’s body. 

“Ooh, you look nice”, Harry commented as soon as you answered his FaceTime call. “What are you doing?”, he asked you.

“I’m off out with some girls from uni tonight”, you told him as you stood up from the sofa and started gathering your things together.

“I thought you were coming over?”, he said, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Sorry”, you said nonchalantly. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah”, you told him half-heartedly.

“Yeah, whatever”, Harry huffed. “Come back here after?”, he suggested.

“Sure”, you said, a small smile on your lips. “I’ve gotta go, their taxi just pulled up. Love you”, you rushed out, hanging up and shoving your phone into your clutch, along with your keys, card and some cash.

Harry 💕: where are you it’s 11?

Harry💕: y/n c’mon i miss you

Harry💕: am i waiting up for you or not?

Harry💕: its 2am

You didn’t read the texts until you were swaying on the spot in the lift of Harry’s apartment building. Your vision was fuzzy as you tried to find the right key for their front door. “Y/N?”, Harry asked, opening the door.

“Hey”, you slurred, stumbling towards him. “I couldn’t see your key”, you told him.

“Where’ve you even been?”, Harry asked, voice dripping with distaste and disappointment.

“Here, there, everywhere”, you giggled. 

“Come on, go to bed”, Harry said sternly. “I have a shoot tomorrow and Josh will kill me if I’m late or lacking”, he told you.

“Oh, I am so very sorry”, you drawled, exaggerating all of your words, much to your own amusement.

“I’m not being funny, Y/N. Go to bed or go home”, Harry said sharply.

Your face dropped, the small square inch of your brain that was yet to be drenched in vodka and whatever else you’d been drinking lit up with anger. “Fine”, you snapped. You stormed down the hallway, sure of your footing this time and not stumbling once.

“Where are you going?”, Harry called after you.

“Home!”, you shouted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind you as hard as you could.

You shivered in the cold, late night wind of London as you waited on the curbside for your taxi. As soon as the car pulled up, you slid into the backseat and rattled off your address. The street lights and neon signs of London passed by in a blur of alcohol and anger and regret. “Thanks. Keep the change”, you muttered, handing a note over to the driver and getting out of the taxi.

Once you’d got back into your apartment, you changed into some pyjamas and took your make-up off as quickly as possible. You crawled under the covers, pulling them around your body and getting comfy in the middle of your bed. 

Part of you felt a little guilty for how you’d treated Harry, but a bigger part of you couldn’t find the effort to care. You’d put up with Harry acting like this for 6 years, he could tolerate you doing it once or twice.

-

You wanna meet my friends - I say another day

“Another day, Harry”, you sighed, heavily, turning back to the work you were trying to get done for your classes.

“You always say that. You’ve been on this course for, like, a year”, Harry whined.

“I know but I really need to focus on work at the moment, Harry”, you told him. “I started my degree later than I wanted to anyway and then I didn’t commit to it like I should have last year because of…”, you trailed off.  “Another day”.

“Because of what?”, Harry asked, voice taking a combative edge as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I don’t want to get into this again”, you sighed heavily, slumping into your chair.

“Well, you started it!”, he argued. “So finish your sentence. Go on!”, he goaded.

“I couldn’t commit to my degree because I was too busy looking after you!”, you shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Me to lash out? Fucking well done”, you spat. You gathered up your things as quick as you could, closing your book and shoving things into your bag.

“Where are you going now?”, Harry asked frustratedly.

“Home. I have an essay to do for next week”, you muttered as you shoved past Harry.

Things between you and Harry were only getting worse. You knew about the other girls, but the both of you just pretended that you didn’t. All of his friends saw Harry as some sheepish kid with a loud mouth girlfriend, but they never got to see the Harry that you were seeing more and more. The Harry that held things from years ago against you, the Harry that was becoming more controlling by the day, the Harry that would raise his voice when things went even slightly not his way… The Harry that wasn’t the same Harry that you fell in love with.

-

'Cause I'm one in a million - More like in a billion - I don't think it's cheating if I'm kissing other women - I do some shit you can't forgive - And you better get used to it

The more you and Harry argued, the more his friends didn’t like you. They hid it well, especially Simon and Josh since you were such good friends with Talia and Freya. But you noticed the side glances you’d get anytime you laughed a little louder than usual, any time you’d say something that would make Talia or Freya cackle. You’d notice the looks that they would send Harry when you had the audacity to go and dance and your own, or when you’d be on your phone whilst everyone else was fighting to keep you out of the conversation.

You had no doubt in your mind that Harry was telling them bare-faced lies about you and hiding the truth about himself. You knew that they had no clue about Harry’s cheating, about how bad his drinking and substance abuse had truly been, how much he actually relied on you for day to day functioning. All they knew was that you were loud, argumentative and didn't give Harry the time of day when it came to uni work.

“Do you think she knows she’s punching?”, you heard Ethan ask JJ.

“I mean, it’s so obvious. Harry’s miles out of her league. C’mon man!”, JJ laughed in reply.

You looked to Harry to see his reaction. You knew he’d heard what was said, but based on the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. You didn’t need the validation from your boyfriend’s best friends, but it would be nice if your boyfriend would at least defend you or reassure you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave the table, heading towards the toilets. You were facing the mirror, touching up your hair and make-up, when Freya and Talia walked in. “What happened?”, Talia asked.

You told them what you’d heard and watched as their faces contorted into looks of horror. “Oh my god!”, Freya exclaimed. “What did Harry say!?”, she asked, coming closer to hold you hand supportively.

Your silence answered their question perfectly. “I can’t believe him”, Talia huffed, wrapping her arms around you.

“Things haven’t been great, but I never thought he’d just sit and let his best friends slag me off practically to my face”, you told them. Your eyes were watery.

“Hey, babe. Don’t let your mascara run”, a dark haired girl told you, handing you a tissue. “Whoever is letting someone slag you off is stupid”, she assured you.

“My boyfriend”, you said sadly. 

“I hate boys”, she laughed darkly, rolling her eyes, before rejoining her group of friends.

You, Talia and Freya emerged from the toilets around 5 minutes later, once you were sure that your tears had dried and weren’t going to restart. The three of you walked towards the table, Freya and Talia immediately sliding next to Josh and Simon.

“Where’s Harry?”, you asked, not seeing him anywhere. Ethan gave you a look and pointed towards the dancefloor before turning back to his conversation with JJ and Vik.

You glanced over towards the dancefloor, hoping you’d see Harry. Thankfully, he was towards the edge, back turned towards you. You watched as he turned around, ready to try and grab his attention. His eyes met yours, briefly filling with panic, before darting back down to the girl in his arms.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, as Harry’s friends and Freya and Talia all watched as he tried to assess the situation and what to do.

He watched as you walked closer, looking ready to send the stranger away. Harry’s eyes followed you as you sailed past him and towards the middle of the dance floor. You could feel eyes on you as you began dancing to the music, letting the beat mix with the alcohol and take over your body.

“Did you sort things with your boyfriend?”, a female voice asked. It was the girl from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully at her.

“No”, you snorted. “I came to speak to him and he was all over another girl”, you told her. Your eyes darted over to where you’d last seen Harry. “That’s him there, sucking face with the blonde”.

“I hope he’s your ex-boyfriend now”, she told you, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated”, you admitted, looking down in shame. It wasn’t news to you that you were letting Harry treat you like a doormat, but you had yet to muster up the courage to leave him. Just as you looked up, ready to offer to explain it over a drink, someone behind you shoved you, sending you catapulting into the girl’s arms.

“Careful there, can’t have you falling for me already. I’ve not even started flirting yet”, she told you with a smirk. “Martha”, she said politely, holding out a hand.

“Y/N”, you told her with a shy smile as you accepted her outstretched hand.

“Care for a dance?”, Martha asked you, pulling you closer with the hand that was still in hers.

You didn’t care if Harry and his friends watched as your bodies rolled together. Harry had never danced with you on a night out like this, never held you shamelessly in a club for everyone to see. Harry had never held your face so securely as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of everyone around you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”, you heard beside you.

“Is this the boyfriend?”, Martha asked once she’d pulled back and let her eyes flutter open, eyeing Ethan up and down as soon as she had.

“The boyfriend’s best friend”, you told her, preparing to step out of her hold.

“Last time I checked, the boyfriend was preoccupied with someone else. Get him to come and find me when he wants his girlfriend. We’ll be right here”, she said, voice powerful and allowing no argument as her arms held you closer.

Harry never came to find you. The two of you left the club in separate taxis and you left with a new number saved in your phone.

-

You should be with someone else - Someone who is not myself

“Harry, you deserve so much better”, you heard a voice say as you walked into Harry’s apartment. You walked down the hallway quietly, lingering just behind the door frame to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“We’ve been together for so long, though”, Harry sighed.

“Did you not see what she did the other night? She was all over some other chick!”, a voice, Simon’s, exclaimed.

“Maybe it was just a mistake, y’know”, Harry tried to reason.

“She’s not good for you, Harry”, JJ, this time, said.

You’d heard enough. You turned the corner, coming face to face with all 7 of the boys. “Y/N…”, Harry trailed off.

“No, no. Carry on talking about me, it’s fine”, you said, voice lathered in artificial sweetness.

“Damnit, Y/N, it wasn’t like that”, Harry snapped, surprising everyone but you. “What are you doing?”, he asked as you started gathering a blanket off of the back of the sofa and plucking a hoodie off of the back of a dining room chair..

“Getting my shit and going”, you hissed.

“You’re being dramatic”, Harry scolded.

“No, Harry. I’ve put up with your bullshit since we were 18. I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve put my life on hold for long enough. You need someone, but I’m not that someone anymore. I’m sick of looking after you and letting your friends hate me just because you’re too much of a coward to tell them the truth”, you spat.

“We know everything, Y/N”, Ethan said smugly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“So you know that I started my degree late because I had to get Harry sober? You know that he’s cheated on me more times than I can count? You know that I’ve tried for 6 fucking years to get him to love me as much as I love him and it’s never fucking worked!?”, you all but yelled, shocking everyone in front of you.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked, voice frustrated and angry.

“I know that you don’t love me as much as I love you”, you told him simply. “You cancelled 3 anniversary dates to go on nights out with the guys. You made me cancel a weekend away because you wanted to go to Dubai. You get annoyed when I try to do my uni work. You let Ethan and JJ slag me off, practically to my face, and didn’t say a fucking word”, you told him.

You looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear my boyfriend’s best friends, people I’ve known for 6 years, say that I’m punching and that you deserve better? Did you think about how much it hurt me when you didn’t even flinch at what they said?”.

Harry’s face lit up in anger. “It’s not like you’ve been a good girlfriend!”, he spat.

“Because being a good girlfriend to you is like a full time job. It’s a full time job and I haven’t had a day off in over 5 years. So yeah, I’ve been a bad girlfriend… Boo fucking hoo”, you grumbled.

Harry remained silent, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We can try again”, he suggested quietly.

“We have! Over and over again!”, you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m tired of looking after you when I’m just as hungover as you. I’m tired of not making plans because I literally can not afford for you to cancel on me anymore. You don’t value me or anything that I do. Your friends hate me and you don’t care. I’ve been your last priority for years and I’m sick of it. We’re done. I’ll put your stuff in a box and bring it round”, you told him, voice losing more and more strength as you spoke.

“Y/N…”, Harry tried, reaching for your arm.

“Don’t”.

[migilini]

Give Me Attention - Charlie Gillespie

summary: Zoomcalls Classes with a bored Charlie

a/n: a/n: Don't quite know what this is but it was stuck in my head so here ya go.

words: 1.5k

warnings: some arguing, cursewords and pure fluff

Requests are open :)

MASTERLIST

------------------------------------------------------

Most of the time if someone asked how living with Charlie went you answered with ‘great, literally so amazing, he brings a smile to my face every day. And you meant it, at least most of the time. You loved the way he was awake long before you even dare to open your eyes and the fact that because of that there was always a freshly made coffee just waiting for you on the counter. You loved the way that he danced in the kitchen with you while he cooked dinner and the way the bedsheets always smelled like him. Yet, you weren’t gonna lie, especially the first couple of corona moths have taken a little toll on your relationship.

“Charlie, do you have to rehearse your lines in the living room?” you asked irritated, crossing your legs under the kitchen table you currently sat at.

“But here I have the most space to move around. I gotta move around. You also said that we can go over our lines together.” he whined from the living room. At this moment you cursed the fact that you had moved into an apartment with a connected kitchen and living room. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and it was, especially when you had friends over, but right now it was only trouble.

“I know babe, but I have this essay due tomorrow and I haven't had the chance to start because we’ve been on set and in so many meetings.”

“Then you work somewhere else?”

“This is the only room with a table!” you protested, gesturing to the table your school books, notes and laptop were scattered on.

“You chose to pursue acting and finish your degree!” he shot back, getting worked up over this simple thing. The hurt flashed in your eyes making him instantly regret his words.

“I’m sorry that my education is important to me Charlie and that I wanted to finish my last one and a half years at College.” You stood up and grabbed your things “Have fun running your lines.” Charlie only heard the bedroom door slam shut and winced at the sound.

He knew better than to immediately run after you, so he waited about ten minutes before approaching. He knocked on the door and leaned on the doorframe. “Baby come back out. I’m sorry. It's just...I had a bad day, couldn't remember any of my lines, and even though we live together I feel like we rarely see each other... both so busy with the show and I… I don't know, I let my frustration out on you.”

The door opened and you hugged him tightly “I’m sorry as well. I could've just worn headphones. I’m stressed and let it out on you as well. I’m so sorry.” you muttered into his chest.

Charlie kissed your head and asked, “Can I help you with College stuff?”

Arguments like these happened a lot during the starting months of the pandemic. Both of you stressed and tired, basically working your asses off and still trying to be caring for one another. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows but after a storm of an argument, the clouds faded away and the sun came back out.

During the timespan from April to August, your boyfriend was bored, very bored. There sadly weren't many acting opportunities, there was not much to do in general and the press tour for JATP was scheduled after its release in September. You on the other hand had lots to do with school, participating in online classes, catching up on the material you missed last semester, writing essays and studying.

“Babeee…” he whined and propped his head up behind your laptop screen so just his eyes looked over it. “Watcha doiinn?”

“Pack it up Isabella…” you grinned at him “Currently working on a project due next week and I have a class in five minutes”

“What class?” he popped his head up a bit more, his whole face hovering just slightly in front of you. “Economics.”

“Boooriiing” he dragged out and rolled his eyes “Don’t you wanna do something more fun? Like Wii bowling, cooking, me.” he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“As tempting as that sounds, I can't, this class is really important...sorry bubbs.” you looked up at him apologetically and pushed your computer glasses up your nose.

“Fine” he sulked, “give me a kiss and I'll leave you alone.”

You smiled and went to lean closer to his face, with one hand he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer. One kiss, two kisses, three kisses later, you tried to pull back. “One more,” he muttered against your lips and you caved.

And he really did leave you alone until you were done with all your classes. But another day meant another day full of classes and work. You quickly build your own little routine. Charlie still woke up earlier than you and greeted you in the kitchen with a smile, a coffee and a kiss. Then he would go on a run and you would start your first couple classes. He would come back, shower, prepper your face with ‘motivation kisses and then try to get your attention for the rest of the day.

++

“Braid my hair.” he wailed like a little kid and put his head on your lap. You looked down at him for a split second, your hand immediately tangled in his hair.

“That can’t be comfortable for you.” You chuckled and scanned his figure, the side of his right hip on the chair next to you, both arms and legs hanging loosely to the ground, his head on your lap.

“It totally is,” he muttered, barely audible because his face was nuzzled between your crossed legs.

“If you say so bubbs,” you said and tried not to laugh, your fingers playing with some strands of hair.

“Miss Y/LN what is the answer to question 4?” the professor asked you and totally ripped you out of your thoughts. “Oh shit...class.” you cursed and looked over your notes before unmuting yourself “the national bank sir?” you tried but it sounded more like a question than a confident answer.

“I know you're sitting at home and this is a difficult situation for all of us but don’t get distracted. We don't want your grades slipping…” you nodded and shot charlie a quick look. He half layed on your lap for the rest of the day, drawing little patterns on your legs, occasionally he got up to get a glass of water or some notebooks for you.

You liked to say that he annoyed you and sometimes he really did but you mostly found it endearing. But he did know how to distract you.

“I’m gonna work out here alright?” he questioned and put down his weights he took out of a closet in the hall. To focused on your note writing, your professor's voice ringing through the room you only nodded your head and barely looked up.

As your professor started to ramble on and on about a topic that you already had last semester, your eyes started to wander through the room and got stuck on a particular thing. The thing was working out and still looked absolutely delicious, he was currently lifting weights and his cake was on full display for you.

A tone shift of your professor brought you back to the zoom class but it didn't take long for you to be distracted again. After his workout, Charlie showered and was now just casually chilling shirtless on the couch a couple of feet away from you. His new tattoo shining brightly in your direction.

“What is more important than my class Miss Y/LN?” the same teacher that always catches you slacking piped up. Charlie's head shot up and he winked at you. “J-just a bird,” you said shyly, your cheeks heating up.

Not even ten minutes later, there was a movement in the corner of your camera. You tried to ignore it and listen to one of your classmates' presentations.

“You also want a coffee?” Charlie asked you over the counter.

“Yes please.” you shot him a thumbs up.

Whilst the coffee machine was rattling in the background, your classmate finished the presentation and that meant that it was your turn. Time Management was never you and Charlie's strength and so just as you were in the spotlight option of the call, Charlie walked up behind you.

“Char..I-” you tried to stop him.

“Here is your coffee ma love,” he said lovingly, still shirtless by the way, bending down to give you a kiss on your shoulder before placing the cup on your table. You awkwardly froze and stared at the screen in front of you.

“That’s a funny bird.” was all that your professor said while another classmate piped up with a “He’s kinda hot.”

“So uhm…” you chuckled, your cheeks and ears bright red. “I choose this topic because…”

[got-svt]

all the boys you’ve loved and lost during the course of our lives, we meet thousands of people, creating either a seconds long moment or memories that last a lifetime. some of them you’ll have the opportunity to know beyond their names and faces, some you may even grow to love. unfortunately, not all of them have the luxury of staying in your life forever.

❥• two: the academic rival 

he’s the one that had you wondering how could you be so similar to someone, yet so different? he knew how to push your buttons and make a competition of everything, whether it was sports, academics or extracurriculars. he was the one that made steam come out of your ears and blood rush to your cheeks. but even you had to admit there was a certain rush that came with it, too bad he transferred schools just before senior year.

pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader genre: fluff, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to ??? word count: 2292

→   you genuinely thought the universe had it out for you when you were placed in the same year level as yoon jeonghan, more so when it placed you in the same class. you first caught sight of jeonghan in your first year of middle school. he was the boy seated three seats behind you. he seemed unassuming at first, somewhat quiet, and — dare you say it — nice and sweet, angelic almost. he only conversed with the other boys that sat near him, not sparing a glance to most. however, it wasn’t until a few years later, when you both started high school that you learned his true personality.

→   it was no secret that you studied hard, spending hours in the library, sacrificing nights of sleep. the results of your hard work showed very clearly in classes, on the nearly perfect marks on each of your exams and essays, how the teacher praised your answers during recitation. you relished in the gold stars, the awards, the quiet envy of your classmates.

→   you had never seen jeonghan open a single book, let alone actually read it. there was not a single time you saw him set foot inside a library. multiple times you’ve caught him answering homework minutes before the teacher walks in the room. which is why your blood boiled when you saw he was getting scores just as good as yours, finishing exams before anyone else in the classroom, his hand shooting up just as soon as yours when teachers call for someone to answer their question. eventually, you both gave up raising your hands altogether, competing to be the one to get an answer out first.

→   you wished he remained that quiet kid in middle school, who only stared at you with wide eyes when the teacher announced you had been the only one in your class to get a perfect score, who acknowledged your existence with a small nod instead of a smirk. 

→  unbeknownst to you, your little rivalry was slightly one sided. you see, jeonghan didn’t care much about winning or losing. truly he didn’t mind much if you had gotten the higher score, or be the one to answer the teacher’s question first. but god, did he enjoy seeing the way your eyebrow furrowed when he did, how you bottom lip forms into a little pout, how you gripped your pen so hard he was afraid it would snap. he still remembered the first time it happened, the birth of your so called rivalry, when he corrected your answer to the class first day of freshman year. since then, you had always been determined to one-up him every chance you got. much to your dismay, he was not one to back down.

→   and unfortunately for you, academics was not the only place you and jeonghan seemed to compete in. while you were in the swimming team, he played on the soccer team. you even had a small notepad to keep tallies of whose team was winning more games. 

“nervous, yn?” jeonghan asked, coming up to you as you were about to prepare for a race. if anyone else had heard him ask, they’d think he was concerned. but you knew this was only the beginning of him getting you riled up. jeonghan had never missed a single one of your swim meets, each time he comes over to you before the competition would even begin. 

“not a chance.” you rolled your eyes, waving a hand to shoo him away to the stands. but he showed no signs of leaving, his feet firmly on the tiled floor of the rec center.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow at your show of unwavering confidence, but he knew in the way your voice slightly trembled that you were not as assured as you presented yourself to be. fortunately, he knew exactly what to do to rid you of your nerves. “we won our game today, so it must be exhausting for you, huh?”

“what is?”  

he grinned, knowing the exact words to say to get your blood pumping just before a competition, “living in my shadow all the time.”

“if anything, you’re the one who’s living in mine.” you scoffed, more fired up than ever, determined to prove him wrong. suddenly, you couldn’t wait to get into the water, “i’m leaving now.”

“good luck, yn!” jeonghan called out with a smile, only to be met with a wave of your hand — you didn’t turn back for he would only see the blush that slowly formed on your cheeks. still it was more than enough for him as he looked for a seat in the stands with a soft smile. occasionally, he would send you a wink when his gaze met yours — though you only rolled your eyes at him when he did. 

and despite the fact that you seemed to be annoyed at his presence during your competitions, jeonghan always cheered you on, his voice clear and resounding even as you swam underwater.

→   but rarely were the two of you ever actively pitted directly against one another. you were always in the same class, and on the same team during activities that teachers found it somewhat remarkable that both of you were still able to find a way to compete against each other. it was always who could be the one to lead their team to victory, who contributed more points, who their own teammates liked better. 

→   it wasn’t until your phys ed teacher decided to make her two star pupils team captains in a friendly game of dodgeball that you were actually engaged in a direct, head-to-head competition.

“you totally cheated!” you yelled out as soon as the whistle was blown, signalling the end of the game. eyes ablaze with irritation and frustration, you pointed a single finger at jeonghan, recalling how you saw the ball lightly graze jeonghan’s leg but he made no attempt in leaving the court.

“i did not.” he held his hands up in mock defense, but a smile was on his face as he took in your angrily shaking figure. jeonghan wanted to burst out laughing, not even the least bit threatened or afraid as you stomped your way over to him. “my team just happened to be better than yours.”

you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face, it didn’t matter how, you just desperately wanted to. your steps got longer and quicker at his words, cheeks flaming up both from being out of breath from playing and anger. your teammates swore they saw steam come out of your ears. “how dare you!”

your phys ed teacher stopped you just as you were about a couple of feet away from only lightly shoving jeonghan — you weren’t actually going to hurt him. grabbing you by your shoulders, she asked you to calm down and join your teammates in cleaning up the equipment, the agreed upon punishment for the game’s losers. 

but jeonghan wasn’t done with you yet, staying behind as his teammates went straight to the showers, “hey, yn.”

“what do you want?” you asked with a frown, not in the mood to hear him flaunting his win so soon. 

“maybe i did cheat.” he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

your eyes went wide, feeling somewhat proud that your suspicions were correct. but as you were about to open your mouth to retort, he leaned down so his face was level with and merely inches away from yours. you never fully noticed how good he looked, even though he was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking down his forehead. with a confident smile and a quiet whisper, “but i don’t think anyone’s going to believe you.”

“bye, yn!” he moved away and leaves the gym before you could even reply. but you weren’t even mad, more confused than anything else, remembering how close his face was to yours and how quickly your heart started beating because of it. 

→  since the dodgeball incident that had you nearly injuring both yourself and jeonghan, most of your teachers decided that it would be best to keep you two on the same side as it would probably be the best way to keep you two from fighting. they also knew of the incredible potential you and jeonghan could hold if you actually worked together. you both were incredibly smart, talented, and resourceful. whatever you lacked, jeonghan made up for and vice versa. 

→  which is probably why your english teacher decided to pair you up for your final project during your junior year of high school. both of you thought it was unfair, since everyone else got to choose their partners. the rest of your class thought it was unfair too, why did you pair up two of the smartest kids in their year? but they were also kind of interested to see what the both of you could come up with.

→   this is how you found yourself in the library, working with yoon jeonghan of all people. you would’ve much rather be paired up with the girl that sat next to you — she was quiet, but sweet. you’d rather even be paired up with your childhood friend, chan. but he was not in the same class and you hadn’t been speaking much lately. so you’d have to make do with jeonghan.

“i’m tired, i’m taking a nap.” jeonghan yawned, stretching his arms out to further prove his point. 

“we’ve barely started.”

“and yet i’m already bored.” he sighed dramatically, making a show of hitting his head on the table with a quiet thud. 

“what do you want me to do about it?” you didn’t bother looking up from your book, knowing that seeing his disinterested face would only put you in a bad mood. 

his eyes light up at your question, thinking that you were actually asking him for a suggestion, “let’s go for a drive.”

“what? no—” was this boy serious? you had another class in thirty minutes, where would you even go?

jeonghan groaned, cutting off your words and your train of thought, “live a little, yn. not everything’s about being number one. you can miss one class.”

you told him that if he wanted you out of the library, he’d have to drag you out kicking and screaming. which is exactly what he did, much to the amusement of your fellow students and even the librarian. now, you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car, aimlessly driving around town — you were sure you passed the same tree four times. still, you found the drive somewhat relaxing; especially since you two weren’t arguing. 

but it was much too quiet for jeonghan’s liking. you were just staring out the window, arms crossed. he feared that he’d done something wrong. “hey, yn.”

“what?”

jeonghan chewed on his bottom lip, gripping the steering wheel tighter than he intended, “you don’t hate me, do you?”

you laughed at his nervousness. truth be told, you needed a bit of a break, so you couldn’t be too mad at him for taking you out of that stuffy library. you also knew he was asking for your opinion on him beyond this little trip. “on the contrary, i like that you keep me on my toes.”

jeonghan grinned, turning his gaze on you for the quickest of moments, “so you should be thanking me instead of grumbling in the passenger seat.”

you spent the rest of the afternoon talking, learning more about the other outside sports and academics. you were surprised at how much you had in common and he enjoyed the intense debates you had on your differences.

→  that was the car ride that changed your relationship from rivals to reluctant friends. though you were never really rivals to jeonghan to begin with. arguments became few and far in between. your cheeks tinting pink less out of frustration and more out of being flustered as he became as  flirty as he was teasing. 

→  unfortunately, he would be transferring schools the following year, just as you started to see him as more than a rival or a friend. 

→  and you didn’t find out about it until the first day of your senior year.

“wait, where’s jeonghan?” you asked your friend, noticing the lack of his usual teasing voice greeting you in the morning.

“didn’t he tell you?”

“tell me what?”

“he transferred schools yn.”

❥•  jeonghan knew he’d be transferring schools months before he even took you on that drive. he also knew he had grown feelings for you much before that. but with his father’s job needing them to relocate halfway across the country, he couldn’t find it in himself to confess. not when he knew he eventually would have to leave you. so when you bombarded his phone with texts, demanding that he explain why he couldn’t notify you of his move, all he could offer was an apology and another text telling you to check the last page of your english notebook.

you huffed as you looked down at your phone, that was all he had to say to you? after acting like he wasn’t just about to pack his bags and leave town for months on end.

still, you shook your head as you went to your closet, picking up the box where you kept your past notebooks. you shuffled past your science, math, art notebooks to find the one you used for english — still as neat and organized as you remember it to be. you flipped the notebook to its final page.

a quiet gasp escapes your lips as you read the words that were unmistakably in jeonghan’s handwriting,

don’t forget to live a little :) and don’t forget about me either. 

seventeen as all the boys you’ve loved and lost. next  ➤  vernon chwe, the first love

taglist: @t-secretpot @serenadesvt @chuu-soulmate​

ask/message to be part of the taglist <33

[akaashisupremacy]

How to Find Love

Summary: Iwaizumi is on a quest to find love with an old friend. What can he do to get there?

Iwaizumi x fem!reader/Oc || Read it on A03

Genre : romance, friends to lovers

Hajime Iwaizumi ran into the cafe, eyes wide and panicky. “I’m already twenty minutes late for the date.”

As he composed himself before he entered the place, he took a deep breath. He was determined to enjoy this date because it might be their last. Hiromi had never taken lateness kindly.

“Gomen, the meeting ran longer than expected,“ he said, nodding his head into a bow, too embarrassed to meet her eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up from her books with a weary smile. Beside her was a pile of four or five books, some of which were beginning to yellow, meticulously tabbed with colorful post-its.

“You still made it,” she said, closing her book “I usually walk out if my date was a full hour late.”

It was a Thursday. She had an afternoon at the library while he had an early off (if it wasn’t for his work meeting). Neither of them worked traditional 9 to5 jobs. He began to wonder if seeing each other would be easier if they did. Iwa was leaving on a Friday for Osaka for the rest of the weekend. He was a physical trainer for a professional volleyball team, which meant that he travelled with them during their season.

They called for a menu and began to order what would be their dinner.

“How’s work?” he asked, surveying her through the menu.

“It’s a lot of reading,” she gestured towards her stack of books, “But we’re at the beginning of a new research-heavy campaign so it’s normal. How about you?"

“Mmm…it’s still the start of the season so most of the team is quite healthy. Some of them are a little excited so we’re just trying to reign them in to keep them from straining themselves.” he said, thumbing through the pages.

He had settled for a hamburg curry rice while she had gone for a bowl of tuna pasta. She looked distracted.

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning into the table now that the niceties were done with.

“I like my job. I like my team. But why do I feel like I’m just grinding day in and day out." she sighed, resting her chin on her books, “There’s got to be more in adult life than this."

“You’ve got to find the reason out on your own because your employer won’t do it for you. Not that I’m qualified to give advice or anything.” he said, looking up from his drink.

“I know,” she murmured, her head rested between her folded arms “It’s just so difficult to find the energy for it sometimes.”

Iwaizumi nodded. He knew what she meant. No one job could fulfill all his desires for accomplishment. He liked his job, but it wasn’t a perfect job. He wished that he didn’t need to spend so many weekends away from home.

Man, this date was sobering.

“You sound burnt out. Maybe take it slower at work?” he quirked his head to match the angle of hers.

“What is it that you want to do that you’re not doing for work?” he asked. Despite less than a year in the workforce, she already looked so glum.

She pulled herself up and swept her books aside, “I don’t know to be honest. Within the next two years, I just want to be published in other big publications. It doesn’t have to be necessarily on food, more like the stuff I write for fun. The stuff I’m willing to freelance while I have a day job, y’know?”

“Like what?”

Their order had arrived. She stabbed her fork into her pasta and gently twirled it around.

“The New York Times has a column called Modern Love where you write a long essay about some type of love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be platonic, familial, or even failed love as long as it is set in modern day. I’ve been meaning to write about my failed relationships.” she said thoughtfully.

Iwa choked on his first spoonful.

“Well, if this doesn’t work out, I can at least write about it. Get three hundred dollars and buy you dinner to thank you for the experience.” she laughed drily.

“Are you always this pessimistic on your first dates?” he coughed, taking a sip of water “Either ways, I’m glad to be of help.”

She perked up a bit and grinned. Her whole face lit up when she smiled. A wave of warmth washed over him.

“Send me a copy when you get published.” he added, “I want to see what you write about me.”

“I’m definitely going to writet that you were late on the first date.” she said without skipping a beat. She was grateful that they had chosen this cafe. There were not too many people even if it was dinner time, yet the ambient noise that filled the air kept their pauses from being too silent.

Iwa stopped eating and squinted his eyes at her, “You are not gonna let me live this down, huh?" She winked at him with a glint in her eye. He smiled in response.

He couldn’t care less about what the New York Times was but she was evidently fascinated by it. He wasn’t going to own up to uncultured swine he was on a first date. He had already been late.

“Anyways tell me more about this Modern Love.” he settled back into his dinner.

She pulled out her phone and began typing, “The Modern Love column came out with questions to help get to know someone. This could be a fun date activity.”

“Sure, you want to give it a go?”

She shoved the phone in his face and scrolled through the questions. “There are three sets of questions. Each set more intimate than the last. You can choose from the first set.”

Iwa lightly held the phone, his fingertips grazing the back of her hand. He chose the first question that caught his eye.

“Number 4. What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?” he read out loud. Hiromi took her phone back and read the question to herself.

“What’s your answer?” she asked.

“I just got back, I hadn’t figured out what a perfect day would be like here.” he shrugged sincerely.

She snorted loudly, “What a cop out answer!”

Iwa looked up and thought for a bit, “A day spent walking around in the city…maybe a day that starts with a morning jog and a hot unrushed breakfast after. Catching up with friends sounds good too.”

Hiromi nodded. She was fully absorbed as he talked. It was like she was going through the scenes of his day in his mind as he described them.

“What about you?” he asked, snapping out of her out of her reverie.

“A day at the market,” she said quietly. ”Any market day is a good day really.”

“To be honest, it doesn’t depend on the activities so much at times. The people you’re with is definitely important. A day at the market can still be terrible with the wrong company.” she added.

“I wasn’t subpar last weekend, was I?” he asked.

“No...you weren’t.” she replied a little more shyly than usual.

They moved onto the next question.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” she read out loud, “Doesn’t have to be romantic again.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply. That was such a loaded question.

“If you’ll use this for an article and it gets published, you better buy me dinner someplace nice.” he tutted.

“Then make this one good.” she smirked.

Iwaizumi stopped eating for a few minutes to think through the question. Before he answered, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

“It defined my entire career in volleyball. My best friend and I watched a game and we kind of chose to go into the same school team after that because we were both so obsessed with the sport. Our connection was almost telepathic. We barely used signals when it was just the two of us. We basically ran off instinct.” said he softly, his eyes reminiscing a different time.

“Although we went our separate ways after high school, I spent so much time in volleyball that it defined a huge part of who I was too. I mean, if I didn’t play volleyball, I would probably be in another sport, but I’d still think I’d be different, y’know?”

You could tell he was avoiding the word “love.” Iwa was not one to be vulnerable.

“In college when I was in my first serious relationship, it was the type of love that gave me confidence and assurance. But I guess it wasn’t enough…for me to say it deeply impacted my later choices on career and other decisions, unlike volleyball.”

“I can’t help but feel that any defining…relationship I have romantically will be weighed against with my time with volleyball…my first real love…" he tried to laugh it off, but you felt the weight off his words, “And I’ve been lucky enough to have enough love in my life that I don’t need to constantly be in a relationship to feel complete.”

A moment of silence fell in between the two.

“That’s a lot to heap on a relationship.” she whispered in contemplation.

Iwa awkwardly scrambled for damage control, “…no pressure.” was all he managed to say.

“So why try to date? When it’s so tough to find someone who can match up with volleyball?” she asked.

“Companionship?” he shrugged, “It’s still nice to date around.”

“And you’re…nice. I’ve been wanting to date you since we were in college. I’ve liked you for a long time…” his entire face flushed pink.

Her eyes fluttered wide open. Since college? Is he serious?

“Our friends were right,” she said in a hush, “You did have a thing for me. I thought they were just teasing us.”

“You had a boyfriend back then and when you broke up with him, I was seeing someone else.” he exhaled, looking her earnestly in the eye, “Wasn’t it obvious to you?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if Hiromi just didn’t want to speak or was too busy contemplating. She was too stunned to speak.

“It felt like fate seeing you on the plane.”

A million things were going through her mind, she slowly opened her mouth, “Now that we’ve been on two half dates, what’s it like? Is this what you’d thought it would be?”

“College is very different from now, but the short answer is yes.” he nodded, rolling his shoulders back. “Everything just clicks. I’m so comfortable with you. It’s so easy for us to talk. I like you just as much as I did in college…I just really like you. Time hasn’t changed that at all.”

Hiromi looked overwhelmed. She was unable to look him in the eye. She was barely getting to know him romantically and he had long been decided about his feelings for her.

“Do you wanna ask if they sell alcohol here? You look like you need a drink.” he joked. Hiromi didn’t look like she heard him.

"This is so intense for a first date.” she shook her head in what seemed like regret.

“We can stop,” he gently interjected, “We can talk about something else.”

She finally looked up to him and whispered, “Hajime, you’ve just dumped a lot of pressure on me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled apologetically, “Anyways, I’m aware that we’re both at different…stages of attraction. Besides, I think this would be way more awkward if we both were pining.”

“Wouldn’t that be sweeter?” she asked.

“Way too sappy for me.” he waved with his hand. Hiromi let out a small chuckle. Iwa secretly sighed in relief.

——————————————————————————— After dinner, they headed to the arcade to blow off some steam. Iwaizumi offered to carry some of her books to which he somewhat regretted. Her books were like rocks. How the hell was she lugging them on her own in the city?

“I could carry them on my own if it’s too heavy.” she offered.

Iwaizumi looked at her incredulously. She was at least half a foot shorter and much smaller in build. His biceps weren’t going to buck in front of her.

They wandered around the arcade for a bit, unsure what to do first. Iwa silently prayed they didn’t have to do any dancing. Just when they were about to decide on the claw machine, Hiromi pointed towards a small karaoke booth at the corner of her eye.

“Let’s go in there.” she tugged at his jacket.

Iwaizumi flipped through the songs. None of them seemed to be in Japanese. All of them were in English.

“Did you pick up a default english karaoke song?” she asked, browsing through the catalogue. The room was clearly designed for kids. It was so small their knees touched and Iwa could barely sit up without hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I don’t really sing…in English. Any suggestions?”

Hiromi typed in the number of a song.

“I’m about to introduce you to your first usable English karaoke song.” she grinned at him mischievously. Iwa looked at her suspiciously.

The opening notes started to play—some acoustic guitar and a trumpet. The song sounded…Mexican? For the longest time there were no lyrics on the screen. Hiromi swayed to beat as her eyes were glued to the screen. When the song finally began to hit what sounded like the chorus, the music paused for a second.

“TEQUILA!” she yelled into the mic.

Iwaizumi was so startled he jumped up and hit his head on the ceiling. Hiromi was giggling uncontrollably.

“That’s it?!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” she laughed, pressing the mic towards him, “You try on the next chorus.”

When the trumpets began playing, Iwa readied himself. The song hits its familiar pause soon enough and he pulls the mic closer to his lips.

“Tequila?” he said tentatively.

“With more conviction, Hajime!” she urged, taking back the mic. On the third chorus, she moved closer to him so they could share the mic.

The music hits its third pause, they looked at each other and yelled, “TEQUILA!”

They both grinned and laughed, almost as if the act of singing about alcohol was like a drink in itself. He could feel her shins pressed against him as she continued to sway for the music. A glint in her eye flickered as she nudged him to dance along with her.

Iwaizumi wasn’t going to refuse. Especially not on their first date. He swayed what he could on the tiny box while the song lasted.

————————————————————————— At the end of the night, they both sat in the train waiting to get off on their respective stops. The carriage shuttled back and forth, pushing and pulling their bodies back and forth into each other.

“Hajime,” she tapped him on his shoulder, “We didn’t finish the last set. Let’s do a quick one before I get off.”

He nodded, “Pick one we can answer with just one word.”

Hiromi swiftly browsed the list, before looking up.

“Finish the sentence, ‘Right now, we are both feeling…’"

Their faces were both so close they could feel the heat of each other’s breath. The back of their hands were touching, but neither dared to reach out or pull away.

“Hopeful.” whispered Hiromi, an evident earnestness in her voice. She was fighting off her shyness just long enough to look him in the eye when she talked.

Iwa smiled, “Smitten.”

Before she could react, the train jolted as it shuffled towards her station.The train stopped at Hiromi’s station and she got up from her seat, taking the books from Iwa’s arms.

He followed her to the exit and watched her as she got off. She gave a small wave from the platform while she watched the doors closed.

Iwa was tempted to press his hands onto the window, unwilling to end their time for the evening. His last sight of her was her smile when the train plunged itself into the night.

“Did he start out his day at the market with a morning jog?” she asked herself, watching the train swiftly pull away.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. The night had gone differently from how he thought the date would proceed. For one thing, he didn’t expect to confess so early into the relationship.

He took his phone and curiously googled the questions she mentioned.

It turns out the title of the New York Times article was not “Questions to Get to Know Your Date” as Hiromi had led him to believe. Instead, it was titled, “Thirty Six Questions That Lead to Love”.

“Huh,” he said to himself. He shut off the screen to his phone.

36 was too much. In his opinion 3 was enough.

-----------------------------------------------------------

This is part 3 of a series on Iwa living in Tokyo after he moves back from California. Comment or message to be added to the taglist. 

Also, I’ve been feeling quite down lately, so say some nice things if you feel like it in the comments 😬✌️

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Series taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan

[malfoys-demigod]

Favorite Quill - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: After losing your favorite quill by accident, Draco makes the Holiday right with a surprise. 

Tagging @the--queen-of-hell​ <3 

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this fluff! 

One week until Winter Break. One more week until most students can go home, spending the Holidays with their respective families whom they have not seen in months. One more week until some students can finally have the castle to themselves as they spend a quiet little winter break alone at Hogwarts. 

What did everyone have to go through before Winter Break, though?

Quarterly exams. 

It was that awful week before the Winter Break where everyone would have to set their minds on studying mode instead of thinking about what presents they might receive during the holidays. 

People like Hermione Granger did not have a problem with that. She was part of those few people who were excited to take their quarterly exams as they were more prepared than ever. However, her friends Harry and Ron were part of the other set of people who just want to be done with the quarterly exams even if they did horrible in it. 

You on the other hand, was somewhere in the middle between these sets of people. Sure, you wanted so badly to take the Hogwarts Express train and see your parents as soon as possible. You haven’t seen them in months and being in their presence would really be glad to feel. But at the same time, you’ve been doing well with your academics that there was this feeling of confidence in you that you would ace your exams. 

One of those reasons why you can’t wait to take the exams was because of your favorite quill. 

You weren’t exactly superstitious, (maybe a little stitious - please get that Office reference) but you considered your favorite quill to be a lucky charm that you possessed. 

What exactly made it your lucky charm? Well it all started when you and your parents were in Diagon Alley.

It was that week before your first year at Hogwarts that your parents brought you to the famous Diagon Alley to buy your school supplies. Robes? Check. Wand? Check. Books? Check. Everything else was going well until seeing that one perfect quill by the other side of the street made everything perfect. Before leaving the alley, you couldn’t help but notice the simple yet white glowing quill, presented in the glass window of the shop across you. 

You tugged your father’s coat, signaling that you wanted to enter the quill shop before you all left for home. The moment you went inside, you made a beeline to the quill and felt the smoothness of its feather as you watched the white creamy color hollow in your eyes. 

The teller of the store went around to see you, infatuated with the quill. “Limited edition, very unique.” He spoke. He was explaining how there were only 7 models made for that very edition. One of each sent that to the 7 continents in the world and you were just lucky to have one of them sitting in a store in Diagon Alley. 

Your parents were fortunate enough to hear the story of the quill that they said, “How about we buy that, sweetheart?” It was a speechless moment for you as you were extremely overjoyed considering any child would be up in the moons if they hear their parents allowing them to get what they want. 

With that quill, you were always determined to do your best in your academics. Whether it be simply taking down notes, writing an essay, or taking exams, you always had your favorite quill with you, acting as that lucky charm every year. 

Draco of course knew this story. He was first curious to why you were infatuated with a quill. He first saw you during your first year by the library, writing an essay with a happy face. 

“Aren’t we happy to be writing an essay today, Y/L/N?” he approached you, standing up so confidently as he stood beside your chair. 

Usually you’d reply with a snarky remark just like him but you surprisingly smiled warmly and began talking about the story of your favorite quill. 

Draco too was a little surprised that there was no snarky remark but a pleasant story. “Well that’s quite a story you’ve got there, Y/L/N,” he gave a small smile and nod as he walked away. 

Now years later in the present time, you were having another year of winter break exams. There was nothing to be worried about as you were prepared and equipped with your favorite quill. 

It was the morning of the last day of examinations. One more day until you could pack your things and see your parents. 

You were in the Great Hall having your morning cup of pumpkin juice with Pansy, Blaise, and Theodore. Pansy was discussing her potions notes with Theodore while Blaise was teasing you about your obsession with your quill. 

“I don’t understand how that could be a lucky charm, Y/N. All you need is to be prepared with your studies and have a go with the test. No quill can magically show you the answers,” he teased. 

Pouting, you smacked him in the arm as he drank his juice. “Nonsense, Blaise! Don’t even bother as to what the muggles say, ‘jinx’ my luck.” 

Before Blaise could playfully roll his eyes, Draco entered the Great Hall nonchalantly as his eyes were on you. He hooked an arm on you as he sat down and gave you a kiss on the cheeks. “Morning, love.”

“Ready for the last day of exams, Dray?” 

“Actually, I was actually wondering if I could use your quill today,” he nervously asked, “I know you barely lend your quills to anyone, even me, but I really would love to ace my potions examinations before the day ends.”

Hesitant at first, you raised your eyebrows jokingly as you watched Draco use his secret puppy dog eyes on you with a pout in the end. 

“Promise you’ll give it back at the end of the day?,” you asked. Of course you would lend him your favorite quill. He was probably the only person you would lend your quill to. 

Draco planted many small kisses on around your face as a sigh of many thanks. Pulling out your quill from your sling bag, you looked at Draco with a serious face as you slowly and carefully lent your quill to him. 

“See you at the end of the day, sweetheart.” 

“With my quill.” 

— 

Draco felt a wave of relief in his body as he found you sitting in the common room reading the Daily Prophet. He dropped his bags and jogged towards the couch. “There you are, darling! I was looking all over for you,” he sighed. 

You didn’t mind Draco’s existence as he was standing, towering behind you while you calmly sat on the couch, continuing your reading. 

Unfortunately he was still standing behind you, waiting for a response from you as he brushed your hair with his fingers. 

“Go away,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m still not talking to you.” 

“Are you serious,” he asked, “you’re still angry at me?”

Angrily standing up, you threw the newspaper onto the floor and turned around to face a scared Draco. “Of course I’m bloody angry! It was only this afternoon that you lost my quill! I honestly don’t know how you can lose my quill in a castle we live in everyday!” 

“It’s a big castle, Y/N.” 

“Not helping at all!” 

You went to your dorm room and got a hold of your baggage and started making your way outside of the common room. 

Draco was still standing outside by the couches, placing a hand on his forehead. When his eyes met yours, he ran towards you, holding your forearm to prevent you from moving. 

“What.” 

“I’m sorry. You know that.”

“I’ll see you after the holiday. Quill-less.” Being the nice person you were, you planted a small peck on the cheek and removed his hand off from you and left the common room. 

Draco gave a small sad smile, looking down at the floor. His heels turned around and made a beeline towards the couch where you stormed off. He couldn’t help but notice tonight’s newspaper you were reading. 

There was a big advertisement on the last page located in the lower right side of the page. “Limited edition quills from around the world: coming straight to England for the auction of the year.” Then in the bottom of the message was a picture of the exact same quill that you had owned. This was fate! Draco couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“Thank Merlin,” he muttered to himself. Even though he too was going home to Malfoy Manor to see his parents for the holiday, he still owled a letter to his father regarding the limited edition quill that was coming it’s way to England. “-must obtain it as soon as possible.” he lettered to his father. 

Of course this was Lucius Malfoy he was lettering to. Of course it would be obtained as soon as possible and when one says as soon as possible like the Malfoy’s, they mean in a span of three days. One day for Lucius to arrange a spot for the auction, a second day for the actual purchasing in the auction, and a third day for Draco to surprise you with the quill. 

He wasn’t going to come over to your house and present himself with the quill. No, he was absolutely more dramatic than that. In fact, he had already established a plan the minute he stepped foot on Hogwarts express on the way home. How did it go? Well, since this is Draco Malfoy, it went as dramatic as it can be. 

When Lucius came home with the quill, there lay Draco by the steps of the Manor as he finally watched his father apparated from the auction. Of course there were plenty of questions from Lucius considering how troubled Draco sounded from the letter. 

When Draco finally explained what had happened with you, Lucius scoffed in return, slightly scolding Draco for doing this to the love of his life. “You better come back with an accomplished task, Draco. I expect that my trip to the auction was for something worth doing. I do not want to hear how you’ve broken her heart more,” Lucius demanded from his son, who was nodding nervously. 

Draco hurried back upstairs to continue his plan. He started using your quill to write you a letter. A letter which contained him apologizing and stating his love for you. Along with the letter came the quill he finished writing with, the one he had his father auction for. He wrapped the quill in a gift box and had the owl send it to your house, as he dressed up in a fresh new black suit, along with flowers to apparate to your house. 

So there you were, warming yourself by the fireplace that was located in your living room. You were sipping your favorite hot chocolate drink, indulging in it until suddenly, a familiar owl stood by the slightly open windows in your living room. 

‘Is that Draco’s owl?,’ you wondered. Standing up, you were met with a gift box, a green one that was wrapped with white ribbons. Attached to the box was a letter that had a “M” stamped on it. Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Of course. 

You could not wait so instead of reading the letter like what most people would do, you set the letter aside and started unwrapping the box with curiousness. You were taken by surprise when you finally saw what was in the box. The exact quill your boyfriend Draco had lost during the week before winter break started. Before tearing up, Draco’s owl somehow signaled you into opening the letter. 

‘-I hope you aren’t upset with me using your quill to write you this letter.

With all my love, 

D.M.’ 

Those were the last things written in the letter as you started shedding a tear. Looking at the quill, you were taken back at the mesmerizing glow of its color, as if it was the first time you laid eyes on it, exactly like the day you first saw its other model when you were 11 years old. 

Before you could cry even more, there was a voice from the back who spoke. 

“Don’t cry, my love. You know it pains me to see you cry.” 

Turning around, you saw Draco Malfoy, holding up a bouquet of your favorite flowers with a small smile on his face. “Hello, love,” he spoke again. 

Your body crashed strongly with his as you wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing quietly. “I’m sorry,” you said. 

“For what? I should be the one saying that.” 

“I’m sorry for lashing out on you that day.”

“Hush, my dear. You had every right to. That was your favorite thing in the world. I’m sure you love that more than me,” he said playfully. 

“Of course not, Dray. But how did you get it? There’s only a few editions of those in the entire world? Don’t tell me it’s fake!,” you said, pulling away from him with an eyebrow raised at him.

“Nonsense, you know I only give you the best. In fact, that came internationally. I had my father hear about this and he auctioned for it. But I found out about it.,” he said confidently. 

“It must have taken a lot to purchase that.”

“Like I said dear, I only want to give you the best. “ 

“Aw.” 

“Now, why don’t we spend our day staring at this glorious crafted item the exact way you did with your old one?” he said with a smirk.

[fandomscombine]

Exploding Stink Bomb

Platonic!Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: Chaos ensues when the twins steal your latest prank invention. How much worse could it be when innocent people are caught in the mess?

WC:1744

Entry for @feetoffthetable​ 's 500 writing challenge. A week late I know-sorry! Cause I lost the initial draft. (Note: Do NOT trust auto save that much) So I had to rewrite it.

The prompts are taken from Random Prompts List No. 4 and No.11. (Are in bold in the text)

4. “…Are they dead?” “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!”

11. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.” “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Y/n L/n, also known as 'The Pranksters Trio' of modern day Hogwarts.

It is the winter of senior year, and your stress levels are increasing by the day. NEWTS are to be held in a couple of months and you have managed to procrastinate completing your mock papers. At this rate, you would get a passing grade but in all honesty you know that wouldn’t cut it, you know your abilities. If you actually put effort in your subjects you can bump a level up.

You've made a deal with your parents that if you had completed your practice papers, you could spend the last week of the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys.

Which you are; 3 days in, 4 days left till school.

'What your parents don't know won't hurt them...' You mumble to yourself as you stir the bubbling green mixture clockwise.

See you haven't finished the potions assignment yet. Your parents thought you did last week, but in reality what you were working on was a little fantastic smelling concoction that could contribute to the twins' upcoming new joke shop merchandise lineup!

During the journey to King’s Cross, Fred had come up to you and asked if you could help brainstorm a new product that would blow people's minds away. Of course you agreed, a multitude of ideas already brewing, you would do anything to help out your friends.

That night, it was all you could think about. Naturally you are itching to get started, before the thought flies away. Pushing your potions textbook aside, you got to work. It took 18 hours of no sleep but it paid off. The product was now in your hands.

A shiny burgundy shimmering marble-like sphere. The final product was smaller than the blueprint- the amount of ingredients you had on hand in your muggle household were limited- you do a mental note on raiding the potions supply closet once back in school for dragon hide.

But when you do finally have all the resources, the sphere should be the size of a baseball.

For now, at 30% of the ideal size, this mini test sphere could stink up a small bedroom. Which is enough to do damage but also has a small enough impact that you fix if anything were to go wrong.

BAM! You knew the quiet was too good to last.

“y/n/n, my dear!” Greeted Fred, waltzing into Ginny’s room.

“Are you--” George placed his hand on the door, stopping it from slamming back to his face. “Oi! Why’d you have to kick the door so hard? You could have ruined my handsome face!” He shouted to his twin.

Dropping your quill back into the ink bottle you sighed. “Nooo, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be finished when I’m finished. Most likely tomorrow, the earliest.”

“Why can’t you just let US test it though?” voiced George.

“Because I came up with it and it’s the only one we’ve got!” You reasoned. “I wanna see it when it explodes!”

Right then, the boys’ eyes lit up.

“IT EXPLODES?!?!?” They exclaimed in union.

“SHIT!” It was too late to cover it up. The secret is out.

The twins shared a look, you don’t really believe in twin telepathy but in the case of your 2 best friends and mischief, they almost always are on the same page.

You are sent flying sideways off your chair and hit the air mattress. “Offph! George! Let….me….go!” With all your might, you try to push George off you but to no avail. The muscles built up during quidditch training are to his advantage.

In the other side of the room, Fred is rummaging through your trunk, eagerly looking for the mysterious and highly sought after invention.

Although he may not know what it looks like, Fred is still one of your accomplices in sneaking prank items to school, meaning he and Geroge know all the secret compartments in your trunk. As do you with their trunks.

This setup made sense, it was a precautionary method devised so that in a matter of incoming danger or when suspected of something, the others could easily get rid of any incriminating evidence.

The system is perfect! Well expect now when it backfired on you.

“AHA GOT IT!”

Your face snaps to the direction of the voice. Cursing internally, right there, raised high above Fred’s head is the prized Exploding Stink Bomb.

“WICKED!” cried George. While the twins are reveling in their success, you took the chance to push George off you and launch towards Fred.

While George was caught off guard, Fred had the few seconds in which you got up to process what was happening and sprinted towards the door.

“IMMA GET YOU FRED!”

“LET’S SEE THAT SMALL LEGS!”

“GOT YA! AHHHHH--” One moment you had your hand on Fred’s shoulder, next you felt a tug on your waist. “GEORGE LET. ME. GO”

“No can do y/n/n.”

His hold wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was certainly tighter. “Learned from your earlier mistake eh” You teased.

“Just caught me off guard” George reasoned.

Fred walking backwards, bids his farewell. “See you Suckers!” He shouted, taking a bow. With that he disappears round the corner.

A THUD.

“Ginny!”

You and George shared a look of confusion, what was going on?

Arriving at the scene, you are not surprised to see a sneering Ginny.

“That’s what you get for going in my room!”

What you’re more surprised to see is a frantic Fred. You knew that Ginny is fully capable of being terrifying but this was all in good fun right?

Slowly George walked up to his brother. “Freddie what’s wrong?”

“The ball… it slipped”

Eyes wide, your heart starts to beat faster. “Where…?”

You barely had gotten the question out, the answer is given.

As if on cue, you hear shouts coming from your right, Ron’s room.

Ginny being the closest, beats all of you to the door. When it opened, you catch the faint bit of purple smoke before it completely clears away, no other evidence of the stink ball in sight-you smile at the result, hard work does pay off.

‘Now is not a time to be happy y/n’ you told yourself. Your gaze reached the unconscious bodies on the two beds. “Well that’s…..uhh... new...”

Here are 4 guilty looking teenagers looking at the scene of the crime.

Ginny gingerly poked Ron’s side, keeping a fair distance away just in case he jolts back. “…Are they dead?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!” George paused his pacing to point his finger at both you and Fred.

“Hey! I am not the one you had thrown the stink bomb into the room!” You said defensively. “Besides I told you to test it when I’m ready! BUT NOOOO… you two wanted it now WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING IT’S FULL CAPACITY AND RESTRICTIONS!”

“I…..I…” When George couldn’t come up with a come back, he changed tactics. Turning to Fred he challenges. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.”

Fred, who was still standing rooted at the entryway, replied. “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

“What the heck happened anyway?” asked Ginny.

“Yea, I thought it was just a stink bomb that could explode!” added George.

“It is just an exploding stink bomb!”

“Then why are they unconscious?” George’s panic becomes more evident as in addition to his pacing, his voice is now an octave higher.

“I think that the stink bomb was too powerful for such a small room.” Sighing, you gestured to the closed windows. “There’s no adequate ventilation too. Must have cause them to inhale a larger concentration”

“How long will they be out?”

“I don’t know Ginny…really.” You shrug. “It could be hours, one to two at best.”

“TWO HOURS?!?” The twins say in union despite one clearly in utter distress while the other scarily unmoving.

Fred gripped his hair, placed his head in between his thighs and let out a scream that could rival a lion.

George now having lost hope of his brother functioning, took charge. “Mum is gonna be back any second now. What are we gonna do?”

“Well, first…we’re gonna check the boy’s condition again for progress” You suggest, dragging Ginny to check on hair while you check on Ron.

“Then..we’re gonna say..”

“GOT YA!” You 4 shout, finger guns at the ready.

“Wait.. WHAT?!!?? WHAT’S HAPPENING?” George looks at Harry and Ron- who are surprisingly alright and laughing their heads off, to you and GInny looking very smug.

Fred tilts his red face up to the commotion.

“YOU JUST GOT PRANKED! SAY CHESSE!” You announced, indicating to Ginny with the camera.

“Cheeseee” murmured the twins in defeat.

~

“How’d you do it?”

You knew that they would be back with questions. You keep them on the edge as you finish up your potions essay.

"You lot are predictable."

"Predictable?" George scoffed.

Tidying up the study table you continue "Mhhhmmm hmmm. Predicted that you would test it out on Ron, knew that you would try to steal it from me cause you both are very impatient- especially you Fred."

"Heyy!"

"But how did you wake up Harry and Ron?" Piped George. "We shook them but they were still unconscious!"

"Ah George ever the curious. It's simple really." You lay on the bed with hands behind your head, enjoying this moment of outsmarted the boys. "Your siblings were all very tired of been pranked so when we saw an opportunity to have you taste of your own medicine we grab them chance."

You glance at them.

"The time of you setting off the stink bomb is unknown but we were ready. I've made a nose blocker chewing gum while I was tinkering with the foul smell of the stink bomb."

"No sense of smell, no effect." stated Fred.

"Exactly, the rest I'd just improv and acting! The boys weren't actually unconscious, just a temporary numbing spell which Ginny and I reversed when we checked on them."

Sitting back up, you continued.

"What I didn't predict was how crazy you with react. I've never seen you two gone off the rails scared shirtless like that before." You admitted. "Priceless."

"And now you have a photo of it" grumbled George.

"And video too!"

"WHAT?"

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[sugako]

after class

ta!suga x f!reader cw: 18+ mdni, college au, alcohol consumption mention (not during the main plot), dubcon (bc of power imbalance & suga coming on VERY strong), oral (giving), facefucking, public sex (no one sees), teasing (receiving), blink once & u miss it degradation, fingering (receiving), quickie/rough sex, unprotected sex wc: 2.5k+ a/n: here is my wee lit ta suga brainrot ,, boy do i hate academia but wow do i like writing shit in a college setting

It was just a literature class, an enjoyable one at that. Yet, every time you walked through the door, the dull thump of your heart sped up. Hovering nearby, he was almost always there, not that you really minded. Maybe your mind was clouded with romantic thoughts because of the room - it was in the oldest part of campus and it showed with the cozy wooden walls and a stained chalkboard at the front of the room.

The nostalgia encouraged by the soft, warm light that streamed through the windows only made your longing more intense. He looked like you imagined a tricky mythical being to look, all sweet and inviting on the outside while fierce and feral inwardly. About a week into class he revealed his true self when reviewing - or rather tearing into - everyone's essays.

You noticed his eyes first. They way they lingered on you when he stepped in to lecture, flitted around your face and down your body, lit up when he went on a tangent about a theme he particularly enjoyed. Even though your mind sometimes wandered, everything was still outwardly appropriate. You called him by his last name like he asked, he called on you appropriately, answered your emails and graded your papers just like anyone else's.

One mistake-filled Friday night you made the mistake of following your friends to the nearest bar, and there he was. Face flushed with happy tears in his eyes he stood up at the bar with some of his friends. When his eyes fell on you the gears slowly turning in his head were visible.

He rushed over, chest pressed tightly against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you and ushered you up the counter.

“So good to see you!” He whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You knew it was wrong, you tried so hard to tell yourself it was wrong, but he wasn’t much older than you and you weren’t in class now so what difference did it make, you reasoned. Besides, he was drunk and you had a drink in you already and he smelled so nice… “...too, but don’t tell anyone.”

“Huh?” You barely heard him over the roar of the crowd around you and the music vibrating off the walls.

“Heh, nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m gonna buy you a shot, you deserve it after that last essay. Very well thought out.” Being overly crisp in his words to achieve some kind of comedic affect you assumed. He leaned slightly into the counter, bringing you with him, and quickly ordered. Within minutes the bartender had placed the clear shots before you. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said, clinking his small glass against yours, sending half of his shot onto the floor.

It burned like always, but you held back your reaction, lips barely pursing as you set the glass back down.

“Thanks,” you started, unraveling yourself from his warm body, “I gotta get back to my friends, but it was nice seeing you.” You said softly, some little part not wanting to leave him.

Suga held you out by your waist and nodded once. “Good to know you can take rough things so well, go on then.” He says with a little push.

His words confusingly haunt you for a moment before you realize he’s talking about the ‘rough’ shot you just took, even if the wording was crude. The rest of the night you agonize over what he meant. “Good to know you can take rough things.” But by next Monday, it’s as if it never happened. He carries on in class like normal and so do you, until a week later.

He’s handing back quiz scores at the end of class, conveniently leaving you until last. The way he sped through lecture today, there’s about ten minutes left and, with no professor around this day to stop him, he dismisses everyone early. Except you.

“Can you actually stay behind a few minutes? I just want to talk about your answers.” When fear flashes across your eyes, he chuckles easily just like he was back at the bar and your heartbeat only speeds up. “Nothing bad, I’m just interested in your answers.” In tense silence, the two of you stand, waiting until the last student has made their way out.

“So which question-”

“Actually, I think there’s a better way for you to improve your score.” He grins devilishly, getting up from his spot beside you to fully close the door. Suddenly the room feels very stuffy and you’re very aware of everything around you. It makes your stomach turn, you’re not sure if it’s in a good way or a bad way, but you weather through and take a deep breath.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m comfortable with the score I got.”

“I know, I know, you did very well.” He soothes while he makes his way back over just to lean precariously against the very tiny desk attached beside you. “It’s just… I know you try so hard, you pay attention to me more than anyone in this class. I think you deserve extra credit just for that.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” You struggle out, trying to find the words. Brain racing, you have no clue what to make of the situation. It seems like he has everything planned out, scripted, and you’re just blindly following along like a lost, little lamb.

“You know, I notice how you blush and smile sometimes when I lecture, and you take notes just so well while I’m speaking. I mean it’s very cute, don’t get me wrong, but you pay even better attention to me than you do your own professor.” He scoffs.

The way your chest is rising and falling is visible now, you’re sure he can see it through the thin material of your little sundress. “Sorry, you’re just always so excited I guess I get caught up, but umm… are you sure there isn’t another class coming in, I jus-”

“No,” he says sternly, “there’s not another class in this room for hours. But why be worried about something like that?” Suga asks with a small, knowing smile.

“I-I, uh, well I don’t know, I just thought… just making sure I g-guess.” You sputter out, quivering voice betraying yourself.

“What did you think I meant?” He asks evenly, the smile slipping from his features. Like a fish gasping for air, your mouth bobs open and shut, struggling to find the words or maybe a lie, but he doesn’t let you. He closes the tight space between the two of you with a short kiss that you immediately sigh into.

Pleased with your relaxed reaction, he pulls away almost at once, dropping your quiz from his hands onto the floor in between you. Mind spinning, you’ve barely registered the kiss before you’re crouching down to pick up the paper.

“Oh, thank you. You’re so kind.” He says plainly, placing a hand over your shoulder.

“No problem,” you begin while you start to rise, only to be stopped by his tightening grip on you.

“Sorry, you just look so pretty down there.” He coos, taking his hand away when you relax onto your knees and place the papers back down. You don’t know what to think, especially with his noticeable bulge so directly within eyesight. You want to be here, you can’t stop thinking about how his lips felt in that brief moment or what lies beneath his pants, but you can’t help feeling a little guilty. The sound of a zipper snaps you back to the reality where you’re on your knees in front of your TA.

“I, um…”

“You can do whatever you want right now, sweetheart.” The nickname he gave you at the bar makes heat surge through your veins. “But I want you to know if you chose to stay here and to touch me, I’m not gonna hold back, mmkay?”

Taking a deep, swallowing breath you nod quickly, fingers grappling at the pale blue waistband of his boxer briefs. “I understand,” you whisper out, “I want you.”

“Okay, princess, don’t say I didn’t-” His big talk is cut off when you mouth over him through the soft fabric, licking over the tiny wet stain he’s produced. “Oh,” he chuckles meanly, “so hungry for my cock, huh?”

Nodding deftly, you tug down on the waistband, letting his length slap against his clothed abdomen. He’s pretty, neatly trimmed, and pale but with a pretty, pink tip that makes you clench around nothing. The way his thighs are tensed under his slacks, you know he’s holding back, and you don’t want to make him wait any longer.

At a careful pace, you take him into your hand, pumping gently while you guide him into your mouth. When the salty taste of his precum hits your tongue he snaps. His hands bury into the back of your neck, holding you exactly in place when he shallowly pumps himself into you. Painfully, you relax your jaw, letting him use you while big tears well up in the corners of your eyes from the sting.

Over and over again his cock hits the back of your throat, gliding past the mess of spit that’s built up in your mouth. He feels so right, so good and all you can think about is him. Your nails dig into his legs, trying to find some purchase in the smooth material of his pants.

He watches as you keep your eyes trained up on him, admiring the spit already spattered across your cheeks. “So messy, sweetheart, you’re adorable.” He says just loud enough for you to hear over his unrelenting pace.

It’s hard to understand him with how hard you’re focusing on sucking in his cock while he fucks into you. “Always knew your pretty mouth was good for more than answering stupid questions.” Suga grunts, shuddering when your throat spasms around him, and swiftly pulling out.

Panting for a bit of air, you heave on the floor, upper half only held up by the loose grip you have on his thighs. Before you can catch your breath, he’s dragging you back onto your feet and facing your body away from his. A heavy hand forces your chest down against the tiny desk before you and his feet kick yours apart.

“Wore this cute, little dress for me?” He asks, flipping up the skirt and palming over your ass.

“N-no, I had a, uh, presentation today.” You try to say, the lie evident with how heavy the words weigh on your tongue.

“Oh, shut up,” he laughs, “I know this is the only class you have today, you told me that weeks ago.” He hums, fingers toying with the edge of your underwear, moving them around across your skin this way and that until he finally pulls them down. “And you wore these slutty panties just for me too. Probably thought about touching yourself after class while you thought about me instead. Isn’t this much better though?”

“Yeah, a lot better.” You squeak as his fingers force your thighs farther apart, meeting you aching cunt just to spread your slick around.

“Your panties are ruined, completely soaked. Must have been thinking about me all class I bet.”

“N-no,” but before you can argue he presses two fingers into you, scissoring them inside of you.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He replies and you can hear the eye roll in his tone. Again, his free hand presses between your shoulder blades, squishing you harshly against the desk. With a little sigh, he takes his fingers away from you and uses both hands to perfectly position your hips for himself. “Ready, sweetheart?” He asks sweetly, pressing his tip against your entrance.

“Yes, please, please fuck me!” You cry, finally crumbling before him and burning with need.

He’s so close now you can feel him, the want that’s built up in your brain over the last couple months is nearly unbearable now. You feel his fingers curl into the flesh around your hips just before he eagerly sinks into you. Involuntarily, you let out a shaky gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out.

“Relax for me princess,” he grunts, partially enjoying how tightly you’re clamped around him, “this isn’t an exam.”

It’s impossible to think of a witty retort or even a weak one while you shake around his cock, desperate for him to fill you up. On their own accord, you hips twitch back trying to meet him fully, but he only laughs and keeps you in place.

“I was gonna go easy on you, but since you seem to want me so bad…” he trailed off, slowly dragging himself out, the weight of his cock heavy against your gummy walls, “...you can have me.” His final word is punctuated by a harsh snap of his hips that fills you to the brim.

All you can muster is a broken, little whimper as his thighs continually smack against your backside while he fucks you into the desk. Any regard or concern you had for the world of students or staff outside the thin walls of this room was gone and it appeared his was as well. The wet squelching smacks of your bodies meeting bounced around the walls, the thin carpet failing to dampen much of any noise at all.

Through all of your spasms and twitches his pace was unrelenting. “Go ahead and touch yourself,” he said when he noticed the way your fingers danced around, obviously preoccupied, “wanna feel your pretty, little cunt cum.”

Managing out a little sound of agreement, you quickly wedge your wrist under your body, trying your best to circle your needy clit while he’s ramming you back and forth. It doesn’t take long before your sobbing out, hips rutting against his, feeling the coil deep inside draw you closer and closer to the edge. You keep your fingers in time with his motions, making quick work of your own pleasure, not holding back when you feel the last bit of resistance before your fall.

With a short, choked cry you’re gushing around him, convulsing around his cock while he slows just enough, his own thrusts getting suddenly out of time.

“Good girl.” He groans, a brief surge of pride and energy pushing him to his own finish line, the way you’re still periodically clamping down around him certainly being of some help. “I’m gonna ruin this perfect pussy.” He barely manages to mumble out before he’s holding you deep and close, his cock twitching deep inside of you just before his cum shoots against your walls.

“Feel so good.” You sigh, fully relaxing into his touch, the sleepy haze of your orgasm overtaking your senses. As he comes down from his high, he massages your shoulders, slumping over your own exhausted body and wrapping his arms around your middle. You don’t miss how his fingers cradle just under your breasts, kneading lightly.

“I think,” he starts, still very much out of breath, “we’ll need a couple tutoring sessions, just to clear up everything.”

[inkedtae]

golden gills ⇾ jjk. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ goldfish!hybrid jungkook x bratty!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 ⇾ e2l, smut with a sprinkle of fluff and a waterfall of filth 

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ Reader taunts Jungkook for being the new Teacher’s Assistant for her history class. She simply can’t stand a teacher’s pet. Jungkook can’t help but make her one. 

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ a shit ton of flith, hate-love sex, office sex, super bratty reader, thigh riding, hair pulling, spit play, pube play, panty sniffing, a tad bit of edging, oral (f. receiving), dom!jk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of spanking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names, a dash of puns here and there, lowkey crack, probs gonna need some (un)holy water.

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ extremely unedited. please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission. currently on a kookie kick so get ready for some filthy (and occasionally fluffy) kookie content. if you have any request, please send them my way (i might consider another member). enjoy!

><> le playlist 

He strut into class, a little notebook clutched in his large hands. You couldn’t help but notice how his veins popped out. Was he flexing or was that just simply always the state of his hands. His sharp nails, tips tinged orange, dug into the leather binding of the notebook while he spoke with your professor. You glared at him from your seat at the front. He must’ve felt the heat of your gaze as he rubbed the nape of his, looking over at you. 

There, right there was the reason why you hate that man so much. That shit-eating smirk tugged on his pink lips, brownish-yellow eyes flickering between you and the professor. An annoyed sigh escaped you. He was too cocky for his own good. He may have radiated golden rays wherever he went. The yellowish-orange tint of his hair layered with strands of pink was undeniably eye-catching. You figured that if he was full fish and not just a hybrid, then that might be the colour of his scales. But, when that golden image was paired with his arrogant personality, you reminded yourself as your eyes bounced up and down his frame, he was insufferable.

Despite the golden hues of his species, Jungkook felt most comfortable in black. It was a trend you noticed immediately on him. His flowy, golden fin would stick out his shirt, lined along his spine, and tiny golden gills would rest in the hollows of his cheeks but he would only wear black. You hated how you knew that he only liked to wear loose fitted clothing because it looked great on him. It was all he wore so how could you not notice it, you tried to reason. That fact didn’t soothe your rage one bit, however, since it meant that you indirectly admitted to yourself that he always looked good. 

That man is dangerous, you thought to yourself before turning back to your notes. You didn’t have much to write just yet, but you weren’t going to waste your last moments before class staring at Jeon Jungkook. You opted for doodling, gently scratching your orange pen within the margins.

“How come whenever I walk in I always catch you staring?” He asked, sitting a couple of seats to your right. 

“Glaring,” you correct, not bothering to look up. 

He chuckles to himself, the breathy sound confusing your heart and stunting your rage for a minute. “You’re giving me your attention either way, hun,” he replied. “And I barely had to do a thing.”

You stopped mid-stroke, looking up at him with that same glare before your eyes scanned across the classroom. You noticed empty seats peppered between others who were lucky enough to enjoy some peace before the lesson began.  “There are other seats,” you muttered, turning back to your notebook. 

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, tossing his notebook down on the table with a light thud. “I like this one,” he sighed as he pulled out a black pen from his pants. “I can see everything from here, and everyone can see me.”

You furrowed your brows at his words. What a cocky little shit; always needing to be the center of attention. “You’re an idiot,” you hissed, making the mistake of looking up at him again. 

He met your annoyed gaze with a playful glint in his eyes. He had his tongue poking at his cheek, and a single brow raised as if asking if you truly meant that, as if warning you to try again. “Am I?” he challenged. “Or are you too busy concerned with me to realize how wrong that statement was?”

Your face scrunched with confusion as you tried your best to decipher his words.Why did he have to be so cryptic? Why couldn’t he just tell you what the hell he meant? Giving up, you were about to tell him how stupid he sounded when the professor began his lecture. 

He welcomed the class, introduced himself and went over the course syllabus before turning to look at Jungkook. “And, if you have any other questions, please feel free to contact me or my TA this semester, Jungkook.” He then gestured for Jungkook to stand. 

Fuck no. 

Your face fell as he rose from his seat. Before he could even catch a glimpse of your pure shock and devastation, you schooled your features and looked back towards your professor. It all began to click now, why he spoke with the professor before class and why he sat at the front. He even tried to warn you, in his own stupid, idiotic, cryptic way. Did you really insult your TA? He was going to be grading your work for the next four months. You wanted to believe Jungkook wasn’t a total asshole but with the way he taunted you with that look in his eyes before the lecture started gave you pause. 

Your face must’ve been revealing bits and pieces of your panic, despite your efforts, because you soon heard little breathy chuckles to your right. “Relax, hun. I won’t let it affect your final grade,” he whispered as the professor dived into his lecture. “This time.”

That little shit. 

You had written your essay two weeks prior to the due date, which is a lot coming from you since you’re more of a pull an all-nighter the night before kind of girl. You had researched thoroughly about the topic provided, giving your own analysis on the wars and political practises of the West. You even quoted Karl Marx a few times, and this little shit only just passed you? You had an average to maintain and you knew your paper was not merely worth a passing grade. You even had your best friend, Namjoon, read it over and approve of the analysis, citations and writing style. 

So the moment his office hours were available you made your way over. They were running during another one of your classes but fuck him if he thought you were going to let this slide. You weren’t sure what he was thinking but if this was all some power play, you were about to show him who the fuck was in charge. 

“Jeon, you motherfucker,” you huffed in a way of greeting as you walked into his office. 

Jungkook peeked up at you from his bowl, noodles hanging out of mouth. His eyes were a bit wider, cheeks puffed all too cutely as they were filled with food. He finished slurping his noodles as you shut the door. Though still completely furious, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop staring at his mouth. Something about those pouty, spice stained lips lit up your core and caused arousal to pool into your panties. 

You let out a shaky breath, seating yourself across his desk as he pushed his meal away, directing his full attention on you. He sat back in his seat, that stupid smirk over taking his features. 

“Yes?” He practically purred his response causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

You tossed your graded paper on his desk, eyes unforgivingly boring into his. “What the fuck is this?” You asked in a calmer voice, but the anger was still ponet in your tone. 

“You’re crappy paper I had the misfortune of reading,” he answered casually, like you just asked him about his day. 

The original fire in your eyes, you somehow were able to maintain since entering this office, dimmed into disappointment. Was it really that bad? But, you worked on it relentlessly. You had at least hoped it would pique his interest. Even Namjoon told you the approach you took was unique and well-thought out. For Jungkook to say it was a misfortune to read wasn’t just a shot at your grade but a blow to your intelligence, your pride. 

He must’ve noticed your change in demeanor as he sat up and sighed. He picked it up to look over it once again, but you ripped it out of his hand, crumpling it with, what you hated to recognize as, shame. “Don’t do me any favours, Jeon,” you all but warned through gritted teeth. “The grade speaks for itself. I can’t believe I thought someone as stupid as you would be able to understand something as layered and complex as this paper. The only thing crappy about any of this is the fact that I have a useless TA.”

Jungkook watched you with an unwavering gaze. “Watch your tone,” he grumbled, voice carrying more edge than those words ever did. 

You’ll admit, it stunted you for a moment, but the pain still lingered. You released the creased assignment on his desk lazily, treating it like the afterthought he believed it was. “Or what?” You taunted, tilting your head slightly. “You’ll fail me?” Your voice dipped in and out of feigned sadness, sarcasm dripping with every word. “You’ll go tell your precious professor? Hmm, little pet?”

Jungkook shifted in his seat, inhaling sharply from his nose before standing up. Even from across the desk, he towered over you. “Behave, (Y/N),” he warned, poking at his cheek with his tongue. 

His words meant nothing. You ignored the inner voice that reminded you that your behaviour was only getting this bad because his words actually meant more than you even wanted to acknowledge. 

“You’re just a useless pet, a stupid little goldfish trying so desperately to look tough in those all black clothes,” you pressed on, gesturing to his shirt that sat atop his chest and biceps all too well. He circled around the desk as you continued, “you can’t even get me to treat you with respect. Better yet, I bet you can’t even get me off. You’re that fucking useless.” 

How or why that sexual sentence slipped in was beyond you. You didn’t really have much time to think about anything, your mouth running on its own and leaving your mind to catch up. All you could see is him, him and those orange hues that lit around his muscular frame like a halo. You noticed him avoiding your gaze and you couldn’t help the teasing giggle that left your lips. 

A brow quirked up as he looked at you through his lashes. You only just realized that they were tipped with bits of gold. “There’s nothing you can do,” you said, standing up for the sole purpose of leaning in and whispering, “little pet.”

Those two words triggered something dark inside him. He groaned out, in frustration or excitement - you weren’t sure, and crashed his lips into yours. You wished you could say you resisted at first, but you were melting into his touch immediately. All logic left you and the only thing you can recall from that moment was another rush of lust and desire soaking your panties. You knew you lost your better judgement when you shamelessly moaned into the kiss at the fact that his lips tasted like freshwater and whatever flavour of spicy noodles he was previously eating.  

A rough hand tangled in your hair, tugging on it to pull you off his lips. You whined at the lost contact, surprising even yourself. You only caught a glimpse of his hooded eyes before he latched his lips onto your neck, setting fire to every inch of skin his mouth graced. Those eyes of his held a degree of rage and lusty fury all while little flicks of orange and gold swam within them. Had they always been like that? You never really got time to think about it before Jungkook bit at your flesh, unforgivingly nibbling and tugging only to slobber sweet kisses to soothe the sting. 

Your hands clutched onto his shirt, desperate to recompose even an ounce of your dignity. As if he knew what you were up to, his chuckled, warm breath fanning your skin, prickling you all over with goosebumps. Your thighs pressed together tightly at the sensation, and you were thankful you opted for a skirt rather than jeans this morning, knowing very well that there would’ve been a wet stain near your crotch. 

Jungkook inhaled deeply, parting from your neck to lick the shell of your ear. “You always smell so fucking sexy when you’re horny for me,” he raved. 

“I’m never horny for you,” your pride answered all too quickly. You wanted to add that he was mediocre at best right now, no matter how big of a lie that was too, but couldn’t find the courage after he bit harshly on your collar bone then lapped his tongue over the sting. 

“Don’t lie, pet,” he warned, smugly throwing your word back at you. 

“I’m not your pe- shit!” You gasped when his lips landed on the shallow hollow of your collar bone. You tugged on his shirt once more, tilting your head back as he began to attack it. His kisses were absolutely sinful and you found yourself wanting them all over you as you rolled your hips into his.

Once he was satisfied with the dark mark he left, he slightly pulled back. He opted for moving you around by the grip he had on your hair. It earned him little blissful whines from you that he couldn’t help but laugh at. He yanked your body closer to his chest, your hands now resting on his shoulders as you somehow positioned your crotch over one of his thighs and quickly, shamelessly moved against it. Your actions surprised you as well; you didn’t realize you were this hot for him.

“What were you saying before, my precious pet?” He teased, hovering his pouty lips over yours. His free hand rested upon your ass, gripping and kneading the flesh like he was coaxing the answer out of you. 

You bit your lip in denial of making a single sound. The notion wasn’t lost on him and he used his grip on your ass to halt your movements on his thigh. While you struggled to defy his silent orders, he held your body flush against his, keeping your clothed pussy trapped over his thigh with a single hand. You could feel his semi-hard against your lower belly as he smirked down at you. Had you not been in his grasp or too stubborn, you would’ve smacked that smirk off… with your lips. 

Jungkook yanked at your hair so that you were looking up at him with lips slightly parted and eyes undoubtedly desperate. That was the thing with your eyes; you could never hide your true feelings from them. 

His hot breath fanned over your chin as he muttered, “What happened to those cute little sounds, pet?” It took the last ounce of self control left in you to not to moan at his words. He continued to stare at you for a moment, admiring how, though you’re trying so hard not to show it, needy you were. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” he cooed. 

His voice was gentle enough for you to immediately comply. You parted your lips, looking up at him innocently. Though you knew what was coming next, your pussy clenching around nothing out of mere excitement, you did not pull away. In fact, you stuck your tongue out as he hovered his lips over yours and spat a stringy dollop of saliva into your mouth. It didn’t taste fishy at all, but simply, what you recognized as, him. You gazed into his eyes with lust-charged hate as you swallowed it without a second though. 

He smiled, satisfied, and released your hair to let his hand slide down to your other asscheeks, moving both hands under your skirt now. A little hiss left him as he felt your wetness reach the back of your panties too. “You really are this horny for me, aren’t you, baby?” He questioned as he guided your clothed pusssy against his thigh once more. 

“N-none of this is for you,” you stuttered. You tried to sound annoyed but the little moan in your tone hinted otherwise. 

He nudged his nose on yours, mannerisms shockingly softer than his grips on your ass. “Want another?” He raised a brow. 

When you remained silent, not wanting to admit that you most definitely wanted another wad of his spit in your mouth, he laughed. The corner of his wondrous eyes crinkled and he threw his head back, laughing at your silence. When his gaze met yours again, he bit his lip to subside the rest of his laughter, taking note of your furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

Jungkook seemed to like the challenges you were offering. He slightly tilted his head, eyes suddenly seeming unreadable. It wasn’t like you were paying much attention to his logic anyway, yours long gone by now. No, you were focused on the pleasure, the built up arousal twisting in your lower belly just desperate to be released. You knew your pussy wasn’t usually that sensitive, sometimes finding that you needed to tug on your skin to really get yourself off. But, holy fuck- 

“Jungkook!” You whined all too loudly as he flexed his thigh beneath you. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, tone reaching dangerously cocky levels. You loved it. 

Meek moans and whines poured out of your lips, like his name was the damn that held them back. Your grip on his shirt was sure to leave creases now, as you looked up at him, holding his gaze while you got yourself. You were passed pride now, ready to admit to yourself that you wanted to stare into those golden-brown eyes because, fuck, the simple sight was enough to make you cum.

Jungkook knew it. He knew you were close and squeezed your ass to let you know that. “Does my pretty pet wanna cum?” He lazily asked. The indifference in his tone was strangely enough to make you a slut for him; as if you weren’t already. 

You couldn’t give him the satisfaction, however. You were far too stubborn for that. Breaking your gaze, you threw your head back and shut your eyes. The pleasure was all you wanted to focus on as you got so fucking clo-

“No!” The cry tore from your throat, breaking as it fell from your lips. He took advantage of the grip he had on your ass once more, trapping your pussy on his flexed, muscular thigh. 

“Open,” he ordered.

You glared at him, sticking your tongue out with a huff. He spat another wad in your mouth, smacking your ass as you swallowed. The force jolted your body closer against his, now completely flush against his chest. Fuck, that chest. So strong and firm. You ran your hands up and down his pecs as he spoke. 

“You close your eyes again, and I’ll have you on your knees,” he threatened. You moaned at his words, earned a quirk of his brow. “Fuck, baby, you’re such a slut for me.” 

“When are you going to tell off that shirt?” You asked, the helplessness in your voice surprising you.

“When you ask nicely,” he teased, bringing his hand back down on your ass.

You leaned back just enough to tug on the hem of the loose shirt. He looked at you expectedly, actually believing you’d ask. A smirk found its way on your lips as your hands snuck beneath the cotton to rub up and down his skin. His breath hitched a bit at the contact, making you silently giggle to yourself. It was nice to know you weren’t the only one coming undone to soft touches. 

He kept your hips locked in place, but began to move his thigh under you. You gasped feeling the pleasure build itself back up in your lower belly. Digging your nails gently into his skin, you scratched at his nipples. It seemed you were both rewarding the other for a tease well done as he returned the blissful gesture by quickening the pace of his thigh. 

“J-Jungkook,” you whined, slowly bringing his shirt up higher and higher. His hands left your ass long enough for you to pull his shirt off and you took it as a sign to also be allowed to move again.

Giddy giggles left you as you got what you wanted and more, and you barely had to play nice at all. He was too consumed with getting you off to care, or so you thought. His hands came down on your ass with a force your pussy couldn’t ignore and you were sent into your first orgasm of the hour. 

Jungkook chuckled to himself, watching your jaw clench as high-pitched squeals escaped you and your pussy released all over his pants. The wet mess emitted filthy, slouchy sounds, further imprinting the fabric and filling the space between you two wonderfully. You held his gaze all the same, riding out your high as your nails dug into his pecs. He hissed at the sensation but did nothing to stop it. 

Your rapid rolls over his thigh stuttered against the friction, the pleasure starting to become too much for you. You halted your movement and quivered the last bits of our orgasm out. He peppered your face with little kisses all throughout, and you let him, whimpering for more. 

Jungkook pulled back at your sounds just to flash you a smug smile. He helped you off him, standing you up again. You bit your lip to keep from whining at the loss of contact. Though you did get your release, you were hoping for more. Your eyes, too obviously, flickered between his abs and the bulge in his pants. 

“If you want more, little pet, you’re going to have to strip for me,” he informed you. Jungkook held your fucked out gaze as he swiped a finger over the drenched spot of his pants to scoop up some of your release. You swallowed thickly at the action, watching as he sucked your cum off his finger. 

“You’re going to have to ask nicely,” you all but whine as his adam’s apple bobbed. 

His once playful teasing eyes seemed to be getting annoyed. The softness within them switched into something a bit darker. He was done with playing, and it only made you want to play with him even more. 

“I’m waitin- ah,” you gasped as he ripped the buttons off your thin, tight sweater off, exposing that yellow bra of yours that cupped your tits all too well. 

Jungkook towered his slender frame over you. “I don’t have to do anything,” he whispered, hovering his lips over yours. “Strip, little pet.”

You pulled your sweater off. A part of you wanted to reach up and just kiss him again. He was so close you could feel his breath against your parted lips. But, you knew better than to fully challenge that dangerous look in his eye. Your skirt was pushed down next, but you kept your panties on, slightly too embarrassed by the fact that they were sticking to your pussy. Reaching back behind you, you fumbled to unclasp your bra. Jungkook remained silent as he reached a single hand back there and undid it easily. 

You thought it must have regained his composure, the thought slightly pissing you off since you were becoming more and more of a mess by the second. But, the moment your bra fell, he attacked your breasts, burying his face between them. His lips latched onto one of your nipples, tonguing, biting, sucking away at it. One of his hands rested on your hip to keep you steady, while his other gripped at your other tit, massaging the fuck out of it. 

Your hands were lost somewhere in his orange-yellow hair, tugging at the long strands. You moaned his name repeatedly. Shameless and horny, you were loving his attention. “Oh, god, just fuck me,” you sighed. 

He hummed against your nipple. “In a minute, babe,” he muttered between alternating tits, now latching his lips onto your other nipple. 

From his slightly bent over position, you could see his fin lined along his spine. You wondered how it looked in the water, if it flowed within the waves like it did out of them. A hand reached over, gently grazing the ripped, but soft fin with the tips of your fingers. He shuddered against your touch, rolling his shoulders back but didn’t stop his tongue’s attack on your tits. 

You whimpered against him, lightly scratching his scalp with one hand and rubbed up his fin with the other. “Jungkook,” you breathed. You were desperate, needy and in total need of another orgasm. And that was what you kept telling yourself as you stuttered, “p-please, kookie.”

Jungkook froze, mid-suck and looked up at you slowly. “My, my,” he smirked, abandoning your tits and straightening up to his full height once again. Your hand on his fin slid up to his shoulder once more, an action that disappointed him too, his eyes flashing something too needy to be masked by his cocky demeanor. “Begging already, baby?”

You pressed your thighs together, granting yourself the smidgen of friction he was hell-bent on denying you. “That was barely a beg,” you scoffed. 

He shook his head at your words. “Shall we change that?” He lifted your hips before you could even respond and placed you on his desk. You were surprised he could lift you being that you were a grown ass woman and all. 

He spread your legs, groaning quietly to himself at the sight of your cum slick thighs and sticky panties clinging to your folds. Placing a hand to his forehead, he lowered his head and took a deep breath. 

You hated the sudden fear and panic of insecurity that shot through you. However, you couldn’t help but weakly ask, “s-something the matter?”

He nodded, meeting your gaze once more. “Yeah,” he sighed. You felt your heart drop, ready to close your legs when he continued, “those ruined panties haven’t come off yet.” A sigh of relief left you, your momentary panic bringing down all your walls with it as a blush tinted your cheeks. 

Jungkook must’ve liked that sight too because he was proudly smiling to himself. “Let me help you with that, little pet.” He dipped his head between your legs, lapping up the cum that stained your inner thighs too, not too bothered by the slight discolouration of them. 

Your legs were already trembling at the warmth of his mouth. He hooked his arms under both your legs, pulling your pussy closer to his face. Nudging his nose against your clothed clit, he inhaled your sinful scent. “God, this must be a fucking dream,” he muttered more to himself than to you in particular. “You smell even sexier when you fucking cum, babygirl.”

A whimper trickled out of your lips at his words as you gripped onto the edge of the desk. Little did you know that was merely the start of his filth. His mouth engulfed your clothed pussy in a single motion, licking and sucking the cum out of your panties. The hungry groans he made against your heat were boarderline pronographic. You were living for them, rolling your hips into his face relentlessly chasing after your next high. 

Jungkook tsked against your panties as if warning you to behave again, then sunk his teeth into them, catching a bit of your folds too. You cried out his name, your nails scratching at the dark wood beneath you. He watched you intently as he pulled those ruined panties off. You lifted your ass for him a bit and brought your legs together as he leaned back. 

He stood over you once they were off, the piece of clothing still locked in his jaw. Taking them out, he sniffed at them again. You pressed your thighs together once more, mesmerized by the sight before you. “Beautiful,” he rasped. Then he stuffed the wet, balled up panties in his pocket. “Mine now,” he explained, noticing the shock in your eyes. “Just like this pussy.” 

Grabbing your ankles, he pulled you closer to the edge of the desk and spread your legs apart once more. A little blush crept up his neck as the mess before him. He moaned to himself, getting on his knees. You never knew you needed to see a shirtless Jungkook on his knees before. He looked heavenly but his tongue was hellish, licking a clean strip up your folds. You threw your head back as he sucked on your clit. 

“Kookie,” you whimpered, having a lazy hand get lost in his hair again. You weren’t sure how or why you fell into that nickname, but you did and you weren’t planning on stopping. 

He hummed up at you, also accepting the nickname like you’ve been calling him that forever. His tongue swirled around your entrance, teasing - always fucking teasing you. He’d poke the tip of his tongue in only to watch you shudder and immediately clench your walls. His mouth traveled a bit higher halfway through another assault on your clit. 

“Can’t help it,” he muttered before licking at the short hairs a top your pussy. You blushed deeply at his actions. You had hoped he didn’t notice, but now seeing him practically lose himself over it, you felt a bit of pride swell in your chest. 

Jungkook bit at the flesh, tugging the hair with him as he pulled back. He spat on your pubes just to lick it up against the hair again. You gasped, looking down at his filthy actions with pure lust in your eyes. He repeated this action a couple of times, noting how excited it made you then returned to the wetness between your folds. 

“That really turned you on, huh baby?” He questioned watching as more of your wetness pooled out of your entrance. Diving right back in, he lapped up all the new arousal repeating the same flicks of his tongue over and over again. You couldn’t really grasp what the pattern was at first, but then it hit you all at once, forcing you to cry out in approval. He was licking his name against your entrance in Korean and English, poking his tongue into you with the dots of his js. 

“M-marking your territory?” you questioned, trying to sound as confident and composed as he did but your moans kept getting in the way. 

“I’d be drowning in it too if I wasn’t part fish,” he chuckled, fanning his warm breath against you. “Why don’t you prove me wrong, little pet?” His tone hinted that it was more of a suggestion rather than a challenge. “Cum for me.”

You were up for it either way, rolling your hips into his face. Nothing felt as sexy as when the little gills in the hollows of his cheeks brushed up against your inner thighs, slightly quivering at the contact. That unexpected sensation and the way Jungkook began to devour your pussy was enough to shock you into your second orgasm. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” you cried out, moans tumbling out of you endlessly. Your eyes rolled back, head falling back with them as you quivered against his face. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you squealed as you rode your release to the end. 

Jungkook flattened his tongue, letting you get yourself off on him. Once he was sure you finished spasming on his tongue, noting how your thighs started to squeeze his face as they came together, he flicked his tongue back into action. He lapped up your cum, swallowing every ounce of what you’d given him. 

Sensitive and gasping for air, you attempted to weakly push his face off of you. It was an impossible task. He was too strong and too consumed with the task at hand, slurping your juices, unfazed and unbothered. 

“Kookie… I… fuck,” you squealed, closing your legs around his face. He was practically suffocating against your pussy as he drank you up.

He suddenly, and very easily, pushed your legs apart as if you hadn’t just been using all your strength to close them. He got up, face glistening with a mixture of his saliva and your cum. He looked like a fucking goldfish god with his hair all tossel from your grip and face all smeared of your cunt. You wanted to clean it all up for him, but he wouldn’t give you a chance yet. 

His thumbs slid into his waistband about to push his pants down when he caught a glimpse of you. You were looking all fucked out, trembling from the remnants of your last orgasm, legs curled up into your chest. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he whispered, all hints of playfulness and teasing threats gone from his tone. He almost sounded sincere, almost sounded like he actually meant all those things he said, like it wasn’t all just words thrown in the heat of the moment. 

You were panting quietly, not exactly sure what to say to that. You felt like you were saved by the exposure of his cock (on many levels) and pushed all thoughts away until you were back to your normal, rational state of mind. 

His cock was huge, veiny, and leaking precum, desperate for some contact. You shakily slid off the desk, fully prepared to get on your knees for him and give his heavenly cock the attention it deserved. But Jungkook tsked at you, nodding his head back to the desk. 

“Back on the desk, babygirl,” he grunted as he began to pump himself using the precum collected on his pink tip. 

You leaned against the edge of the desk for some stability, swallowing thickly at the sight of his veiny hand around his veiny cock. Licking your lips, you met his gaze shyly as if silently asking him to reconsider. 

Jungkook smirked, slightly buckling his hips into his hand. He gave himself a couple more pumps then set his hands on your hips to lift you back up on the desk again. “Be a good girl and I might consider letting you wrap that pretty mouth of yours around my cock next time,” he promised with a smile all too sweet for you to challenge. 

“Next time?” You meekly questioned. 

He positioned himself between your legs, that giddy smile still etched on his lips. He slapped his cock against your wet pussy a couple of times, making you whimper his name, before replying, “just behave, little pet, and you can have my cock down your throat anytime you want.” He then, without much further warning, sunk his cock into your entrance, hissing at the tightness. 

“J-Jungkook,” you sighed, only now just realizing how fucking badly you really needed him to fill you up. Tears pricked your eyes at the pure blissful sensation of his cock stretching you out so fucking good. 

Noticing your tears, he halted all movement. “Am I hurting you?” He asked, concern laced in his tone.

You shook your head immediately, all but begging, “keep going, please. Fuck, please kookie.” 

He let out a sigh of relief and continued to sink into you until he bottomed out. You gasped, holding his gaze while your nails dug into his shoulders. He flashed you a golden smile before pulling out and ramming back into you at a sinful pace. 

 “S-so b-ig,” you choked out between harsh thrusts. 

His face was contoured with pleasure, nose scrunched and brows furrowed in too cute of a way that you would’ve never even guessed he liked it this rough. “Ah-yah,” he gasped, overtaken by the clench of your cunt’s walls. “Tightest cunt I’ve had.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He complied with little complaints and you leaned your forehead against his. Noses brushing, breath exchanging, Jungkook fucked you into the desk with such force, he jolted it back a bit with each thrust. You tilted your head enough to kiss his gills and whine against them. A smile graced his lips at the contact and he tightened his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. You peppered each gill with kitten licks, then soft kisses despite how rough he was fucking you. 

Your arms moved around his back, practically hugging him. Shaky hands found his fin again and tightly gripped onto it. He buried his face in your hair, evading his senses with the floral scent of your hair, and groaned out little praises in your ear. You bit at his shoulder, subsiding your moans into his skin. You knew you weren’t exactly behaving, leaving little marks on his shoulder, but you also knew Jungkook was too engrossed with how your cunt gripped on his cock to care too much. 

All rough kisses and bites  on his shoulder came to a crashing halt, however, when he hit that spot deep within you. “Jungkook!” You shreeched, throwing your head back. He hit it again and again. Each time he hit it harder and rougher, coaxing you closer and closer to your release. 

You rested your forehead against his again, wanting to stare into his eyes when you came all over his cock this time. “There, there,” you encouraged, moving your hips up to meet his. The entire room returned the quick slaps of skin on skin in faint echoes, reminding you just how filthy this was. 

“Your close, aren’t you, little pet?” Jungkook asked as your cunt tightened around him. “Wanna cum, babygirl?”

You nodded your head eagerly, toes curling as that knot in your lower abdomen twisted in ways you weren’t completely familiar with. 

“Beg.”

“W-what?”

He chuckled and smacked your ass. You gasped, gawking at him in disbelief. “Beg.” he ordered. “I won’t repeat myself again.”

You squealed in frustration. “P-please Jungkook,” you started. “Your cock is so big… just wanna cum all over it. I- ah, I need to cum. Please, just please let me cum, kookie. Please!” 

“Cream on this cock, babygirl,” he growled in approval. 

You unraveled all you had to give him, cumming on his cock as he continued to ram into you in an unforgiving pace. You held his gaze all the while, shrieking moans and trembling whines escaping you. Your eyes slightly rolled back, mouth hung open as you tried your best to maintain eye contact. 

“Ah, fuck! You- you’re so fucking sexy when you cum, baby.” He gasped, thrusts getting sloppier. 

Though you were being overstimulated once again and felt the blissful burning of your after-high start to creep up on you, you still talked Jungkook into his orgasm. “Please fill me up, kookie,” you started, but never really got to finish as that was all it took for him to release ropes of white within you. 

You ground your hips into his as he buried himself deep in you. His brows knitted together, eyes just as needy as yours, cumming deep inside you. You knew he was cumming a lot just from how full you felt, but his cock was so huge, fitting your cunt just right, that it plugged all his cum in you, no remove for leaks. 

You circled your hips into his as he gasped for air, panting his hot breath over your face. “You’re so handsome when you cum,” you whispered, filter completely gone by now. 

Jungkook huffed a little smirk. He nudged his nose against yours before placing a gentle kiss against your lips. It was all over, the heat of the moment, the need for a release. Still, you kissed him back like it was a normal pastime. His tongue played with yours and you let him. It was like you two already had a routine of rough sex and intimate aftercare. And, shockingly enough, you didn’t find that off-putting at all. In fact, you realized you could actually get used to this, used to him like this. 

He pulled away, gasping once again. You joined him this time, slowly untangling yourself from him. You hadn’t even felt him soften inside you, practically just as big as when he was hard. You both gazed down at his cock, watching as he pulled it out to find it coated in a mixture of your cum, completely creamed. The cum plugged within your cunt came pouring out in thick glopes all over your graded paper. 

“Shit,” you whispered, watching your paper being ruined. “Now, that’s never going to the professor,” you huffed, looking up at him again. 

He bit his lip and scratched the back of his neck. “About that,” he began. “That’s actually not your real grade.”

A mixture of confusion and rage clouded your once sex-blown gaze. “What?”

“I may have given you another copy of your paper with a crappy grade just to get under your skin,” he confessed. He rested his hands on your thighs, rubbing them gently as if trying to calm you down. 

It worked. 

You raised a brow up at him. “Were you trying to get me naked?” 

Jungkook blushed, softly chuckling. “That was just as wonderful a surprise to me as it was to you.”

You held his gaze for a moment, finding comfort in the silence and his cute smile. “It was wonderful,” you muttered. 

“No one has touched my fin or gills like that,” he suddenly said, a blush tinting the tips of his ears. 

“Like this?” You asked as you leaned in to stroke his fin and kiss his gills once more. 

His hands found their place on your bruised hips and he hummed, “mhm,” before peppering your neck with sloppy kisses again. “Now get that pretty ass of yours off my desk.” He lifted you up only for you to wrap your legs around his waist. He laughed at your childish antics, holding you up by a newfound grip on your ass. “Come on, (Y/N),” he chuckled. 

You pulled back only a bit with a pouty smile playing on your lips. “Make me,” you whined. 

Jungkook smirked. “As you wish, little pet.”

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 5

summary: you like jack. jack likes you. it doesn’t have to be complicated - but that’s now how things work. {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing

sorry for the huge gap between this update and the last one!! university has been manic and somehow writing 1500 words for an essay is much harder than writing 4k words for a fan fiction. i hope you enjoy!!

- jazz

You weren’t in a relationship.

This was not a relationship.

Sure, you spent every night at Jack’s apartment and sure, he made you dinner three times a week and sure, he did everything a boyfriend would but no, he was not your boyfriend. You didn’t do relationships - especially not with cowboys. This was, as you had agreed prior, just a bit of fun. It was nice not having to go back to an empty apartment in a strange city, and even nicer to wake up in his warm arms. Because that’s what Jack Daniels was: warm - and funny and kind, all things which continued to surprise you. Every time he offered to help you with your paperwork or made you coffee in the morning, you couldn’t help but ask why. For him, it was his second nature; he cared about you and so, he looked after you. For you, having been trained in an office where it was every man for himself, it was hard to get your head around. 

You didn’t mean to let him do much for you. It was just that you hadn’t ever had anyone to look after you; it had always been you against the world. And, on the occasions he wasn’t being a pain in the ass, Eggsy. 

Eggsy! Fuck.

You shot up in bed, almost rolling out as you realised what time it was. 7AM. Midday in London, where your best friend had been waiting for your call almost two hours ago. The daily phone call that had become, of recently, weekly. You hadn’t mean for your priorities to slip, but with both Calahan and Jack keeping you busy, it had become hard. You were already stretching yourself in a thousand different directions on a good day - then there were the days where you had three witnesses to do recon on, twenty arrests to file in the system and a suspect to interrogate. Eggsy knew firsthand what it was like but you’d been perfectly able to keep up with the daily calls during your first few weeks here - then Jack happened, and you’d started to slip. Completely unintentionally, of course, but was that not just part of adult life?

‘Jack!’ You tried to wriggle free of his grip, but it only tightened. ‘I gotta get up-’

‘- no, you don’t.’ He wrapped his arms your waist, pulling you into his chest. ‘It’s a Sunday. Like hell do you need to get up on a Sunday.’

‘I have to call Eggsy.’ You attempted to wrench his arms off of you. 

Jack lifted his head off the pillow, revealing a tousled mess of dark hair and  languid brown eyes. He blinked for a moment, offering you a sleepy smile when your eyes met. 

‘Promise you’ll come back?’ He asked.

‘Promise.’ You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, smiling against him when he finally released you from his hold.

You pattered across the room, grabbing your phone off of the nightstand as you passed. As expected, there were six missed calls from Eggsy and a text with a a gif of a sad puppy. You felt a pang in your chest -- had you been a terrible friend? This was the longest time you’d spent apart in your entire lives. He was a constant presence and maybe that’s why you’d run to Jack so easily. No, you pushed that thought aside. You were with Jack because you liked him. It was nothing to do with anyone else. 

‘Look who finally found the time to call me.’ Eggsy’s sarcastic drawl came down the phone after exactly two rings. 

‘I am so sorry.’ You groaned. ‘I overslept.’

‘You never oversleep.’ He shot back. ‘You get up at 5am every Sunday to go for a run and watch Friends.’

‘You’re the one who was always banging on at me to start enjoying the luxuries of sleeping in.’ You reminded him. ‘So I did.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Eggsy teased. ‘So how come you’re not at your apartment?’

You froze. ‘I am.’

‘Really? Because I tried your landline five times and you didn’t answer.’ 

‘What is this?’ You scowled. ‘Interrogate your best friend day or something?!’

‘Stop trying to change the subject.’ He shot back. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Whose name?’

‘The guy you’re clearly sleeping with.’

Another groan. ‘He doesn’t have one.’

‘He must do if it’s serious enough to distract you from...nevermind.’

‘From what?’ You asked.

‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

‘Eggsy. Just tell me.’ You stressed. ‘It’s me.’

‘That’s my point.’ He replied. ‘Look, I didn’t want to say anything because it’s gonna make me sound like an arsehole, but you’ve been distant these past few weeks.’

‘I’ve been working. You know how important this job is.’ You sighed, running a hand through your hair. ‘And the timezone isn’t helping.’

‘You say that, but then you’re with a guy-’

‘- I’m not!’ You cut him off. 

You were tired. Too tired for this. You loved your best friend but sometimes, his petulance could rub you the wrong way. You’d been so important to one another for so long that Eggsy sometimes acted a little...entitled. Entitled to every second of your attention, entitled to know every detail of everything in your life. Most of the time, you would divulge - and that probably didn’t help the situation - but this? You wanted to keep it yourself. It was personal. Too personal even for him. 

‘You’re the one who left early to be with Tilde and I didn’t whine or kick up a fuss!’ You snapped. 

‘So you had a problem-’

‘- I don’t have the energy for this right now.’ You cut him off. ‘It’s early and I’ve been working my arse off all week. This is my first day off in forever.’

‘And you still managed to find time for a hook up and not call me?’

‘It’s not a hook up.’ You quickly said. Quicker than you would have liked, actually. ‘I’m just doing something for me for once, Eggsy.’

‘I encourage it but not at the expense of-’

‘- of what?’ You snapped. ‘Of you?’

‘Exactly.’

‘I’m going back to bed.’ You announced. 

‘But we haven’t spoken properly for days!’

‘Yeah, and you still managed to make this into a woe me, she’s doing things that don’t revolve around me! conversation.’ You sardonically laughed. 

‘What do you want me to say? Sorry for missing you?’

Eggsy was attached to you. Probably a little too attached. It had caused problems early in his relationship with Tilde and he didn’t even know fully about Jack and was already kicking up a fuss. You couldn’t blame him; you’d grown up together, and you were the only constant person in his life. Whenever things had been bad at home, you were his escape. Whenever he found himself getting into trouble for hundredth time, you never strayed away from fighting his corner. He’d been there for you too; fighting off bad boyfriends and calling out any sexist co-workers. It was just that sometimes his sentiment extended a little too far, to the point where he got offended if he wasn’t the centre of your universe. 

‘No, Eggsy.’ You murmured. ‘I just...I’m sorry I snapped, and I’m sorry I was shit and missed your call, but I’m not sorry for not giving you the 411 on everything I do.’

‘I give you the 411 on everything I do.’

‘And I’ve told you a million times that you don’t have have too.’ You replied. ‘I have a life outside our friendship and you’re going to have to get used to it.’

‘That wasn’t what I was trying to get at.’ Eggsy began. ‘I just meant that I know you and I know you don’t do relationships but it kinda seems like you’re doing one right now and I just...don’t forget about me, yeah?’

Glancing over your shoulder, you checked that the bedroom door was still closed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Jack to hear, but discussing the private details of your thing together to somebody else wasn’t really something you wanted him to hear. Especially when he barely knew Eggsy. 

‘I could never forget about you, Egghead.’ You softly smiled. ‘But this is not a relationship, okay? It’s just something to keep me busy whilst I’m in the city. Both parties are very much aware and I promise you that I know what I’m doing.’

(You didn’t).

‘Okay. I’ll let you get back to sleep.’ Eggsy chuckled. ‘Love you, old pal.’

‘Love you more, old chum.’

Your heart was a little heavy as you hung up. You missed him dearly but you liked what you had going here; people actually listened to you at Statesman and whatever the hell was going on with Jack felt good. You’d felt confident in what you’d said to Eggsy about it not being a relationship, but you couldn’t help but panic a tiny bit. What if you were slipping further and further towards the point of no return? What if you were becoming so comfortable that even if you did fall into some accidental, domestic situation, you were too attached to admit it? That went against everything you fundamentally were. Jack went against everything you fundamentally were - and yet, you were so ready to shrug it off. It wasn’t bad to let someone look after you, right? You could stop whenever you wanted, but it hadn’t reached that point just yet. 

Jack was still awake when you crept back into the bedroom; he was staring at the ceiling, eyes heavy with sleep, but open nonetheless. He didn’t turn to look at you when you crawled back onto the mattress, instead just reaching an arm out towards you as you collapsed against his side. There was something...grounding about him. Steady and comforting. He spent most of his time humouring your finicky and pedantic nature, constantly reminding you to calm the fuck down and take a breather. He’d been teaching you to take things a little less seriously, and it felt good.

‘How’s Eggsy?’ He murmured quietly, eyes falling shut again. 

‘He’s...’ you dropped your head against his shoulder, pondering for a moment. ‘Eggsy.’

Jack’s chest shook with a light chuckle. ‘You sounded a little stressed on the phone.’

‘He was just asking a lot of questions.’ You replied. ‘More than I have the answers to.’ 

‘About what?’ He asked. ‘Me?’

‘A little.’ You explained. 

Jack made a quiet mmm sound, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you closer. He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled you under chin. You didn’t resist - he was comfortable and warm, and you felt safe like this. The actions were a direct antithesis to the vortex of panic and confusion in your brain. The more you did stuff like this - soft mornings and stolen kisses and sleepily pillow talk - the less easy it would become to cut it all off at a minute’s notice. It’s not that you wanted to do so, but knowing you could was what offered that extra little bit of comfort. It was like an extra fire escape in a big building, or an extra parachute on an airplane. 

‘What are we, Jack?’ You asked quietly. ‘Jack?’

Your question was met with a snore.

--

Jack knew that something was off the following day. 

You normally would have stayed at his apartment for the entire day, as you had for the last three weekends, but instead, you’d left at midday with a bullshit excuse about paperwork. He hadn’t argued it. Jack was very much aware of your shining individualism and need for time to yourself, so he didn’t think much of it. It was the same when you’d aired every text he’d sent, and the same when you didn’t ask him to give you a lift on Monday morning. He was a little torn between wondering if you were just being unwittingly taking time for yourself, or if he’d said or done something. Surely you would have said something, right? You always had done before. Of all the people he knew, you were the one who would call others out for their shit. 

The final straw had come when you weren’t in the office when he got in. Your desk was empty, and there was no sign of you having been there at all since Friday. No faint smell of Chanel in the air, no discarded Starbucks cup or terribly written stick notes. Nothing that he’d come to associate you with. 

‘Tequila?’ Jack stuck his head out the door, eyes catching his colleague’s as he drifted down the hall. 

‘Boss?’ Tequila stopped, giving him a nod. ‘Sup?’

‘Have you seen Percy anywhere?’ He asked. 

‘Yeah, she’s in Ginger’s office.’ He replied. ‘And damn, she looks good today. Heels and-’

‘- don’t drool.’ Whiskey cut him off. ‘It’s not a good look on you.’

Why were you in Ginger’s office? You never worked there. Heck, he didn’t know that the two of you were that close. You didn’t seem like the type of person who had time for friends. Eggsy was the exception, of course, but Jack saw him more as your weird, surrogate son than anything else. 

Sure enough, Tequila had been right - about both things. You were in Ginger’s office and you did look amazing. Not that it was different from any other day, but you were wearing a new lipstick shade that day and your hair had been done slightly differently. He couldn’t blame the guy for making a comment on it, even if it had made his blood boil. Jack knew that he didn’t really have the right, because you weren’t...exclusive or anything. All part of him was beginning to wish you were, but he knew that wasn’t your style. This was the closest he was ever going to get and frankly, he was just grateful somebody as breath taking as you was giving him the time of day. 

‘Hey, Whiskey.’ Ginger saw him first. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I need my agent.’ Jack replied. ‘Got some paperwork on Calahan.’

‘I know, I’ve got it here.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Ginger is helping me with it.’

‘Not that paperwork.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Other paperwork.’

‘We don’t have other paperwork, Ja- Whiskey.’ 

‘We do. And I need your help with it.’ He said. ‘Now.’

‘Like right now?’ You frowned. 

‘Yes, agent.’

Agent? Had he just called you agent? Freaking Merlin called you that. It did make sense, because they were technically both your bosses, but Jack wasn’t...well, he was Jack. Jack who you’d spent every night with for the past three weeks. Jack who made you dinner every night. Jack who you’d had a thousand deep conversations with. 

‘I guess I’ll see you around.’ You forced a smile at Ginger. 

‘Sure thing!’ She smiled back, not picking up on the tension. 

The pair of you walked back to your shared office in silence, shared for the sound of your heels on the floor and the traffic outside. Neither of you had spoken for twelve hours and yet, there was some kind of tense atmosphere slowly taking over the space between you with each passing second. For a pair that were normally so good at talking, you sure had failed at it. 

Jack shut the door as soon as you entered - actually, he slammed it. It made you jump slightly, turning around to face him with a scowl. 

‘The fuck’s going on, Whiskey?’ 

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ He grunted. ‘What’s with all the sudden quiet? You doing a sponsored silence or something?’

‘No.’ You leant against your desk, not faltering. He was lucky that looks couldn’t kill. 

‘So why are you avoiding me?’

‘Why do you think I’m avoiding you?!’

‘I don’t know, darling - maybe the fact you left early yesterday, you’ve been ignoring my texts and calls and the fact you weren’t in the office this morning?’

‘Well, I guess you got me there.’ You muttered. ‘I just...Eggsy said something yesterday and it freaked me out a little.’

Jack faltered slightly. ‘What?’

‘He said it seemed like I was in a relationship.’ You explained. ‘And it made me realised that we’re really slipping towards that territory and it’s just not something I’m able to do.’

‘So, what? You wanna stop this whole thing?’

‘No!’ You exclaimed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Hey, c’mhere.’ Jack crossed the room, gently taking your hands in his. ‘What are you so scared of, sweetheart?’

‘Nothing. I’m not scared of anything.’ You tried to puff your chest out, and he could only laugh. 

‘I know what it’s about.’ He placed a hand on your cheek. ‘Remember all that shit you spewed about not needing anyone? About how you never needed anyone to look after you?’

You nodded. 

‘It’s not that don’t need anyone - I think you’re scared to.’ He explained. ‘Now, I’m not saying you need me, because I think you might slap this hat right off my goddamn head if I do, but I am saying that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been bordering on the territory of letting me look after you these past few weeks., and that is scary for you.’

‘Maybe I have.’

‘And that’s okay, sugar.’ He stressed. ‘You’re allowed to want someone to look after you, without needing someone to look after you. There’s a difference.’

‘There is?’

‘You don’t know a damn thing, do you?’

‘I don’t think I do.’ You bit your lip, eyes falling to the ground.

Jack chuckled. ‘Everything we said still stands -- all that about this only being whilst you’re in New York, about it not getting in the way of our work. I know this is more serious than we planned but I’m still down for it if you are.’

‘I just...there is one more thing.’

‘What is it?’

‘Ginger and I were talking - not about you, you just kinda came up - and she uh...’

‘She said I’m the reason she’s not in the field, didn’t she?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s...that’s complicated.’

‘It doesn’t seem complicated.’ You urged. ‘She’s a good agent. She works hard and she at least deserves a chance.’

‘You trust me, don’t you?’

‘Why are you answering my questions with questions?’ You thinned your eyes at him. ‘But yeah, I do.’

‘Then trust me when I say that I have my reasons.’ He said. ‘Please?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘So, are we good?’

‘We’re good.’

You didn’t resist when Jack pulled you into a tight hug, or when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He held your head to his chest, hand on the back of your head for a moment, letting out a small sigh. It was easy to listen to what he’d said, about trusting him and it’s complicated - in fact, it was a little hard to think about anything when the faint smell of his aftershave was swarming your senses, warm body pressed to yours. 

But still, you couldn’t push away the nagging feeling at the back of your head. 

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