#enough with the angst have last session's peak moments

[caemidraws]

The Magic Teapot (c)

[gonelike-ach00]

ꜰᴏᴜʀ - jeno

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summary:

They weren't aware of it but they were beginning to write their future as the days finally welcomed their youth. Now, as the sun begins to rise and the cold days of childhood leave them, they are welcomed into the warm—sometimes too hot—hug of youth.This was their start--the first taste of the warmth of youth.

genre:

fluff, angst, slice of life, high school romance, recurring anthology

word count : 2.2k

pairing: high school! jeno x high school! female character

ꜰᴏᴜʀ - jeno

After lunch library sessions were his favorites. Sure, Jeno loves his friends and always chooses to spend time with them, but it was during his lunchtime study sessions that he found himself the most productive. The library barely has anyone in them after lunch, students would usually find themselves hanging around with their friends.

“Naeun!” Jeno raises his hand to greet Lee Naeun from class D, who worked part-time at the library. He never thought he was allowed to, until apparently, he finds out that instead of being paid monetarily, her tuition gets a cut. 

“Jeno!” She stops him from walking into the library any further, she stands from her seat.

“Yeah?”

“Your usual seat’s occupied.” 

He straightens his back and looks at her weirdly. His head jolts back and he stares at Naeun as if she had gone crazy for a good few seconds. “What do you mean?”

Naeun sighs. “I mean your seat’s taken.”

“By who?” He doesn’t even need to catch his breath when he asks this.

Naeun mutters something under her breath. “Just so you know, you don’t technically own that spot, right?” She leans in towards Jeno and then leans forward, not really towards him, but beside him as she peaks out of her seat in the library and tries to catch a glimpse of the person sitting in his seat. “She seems to be having the time of her life studying on that seat.” 

“Study?—” Jeno needed a moment to realize who might have taken his favorite spot. There was only one other student at his age who would willingly study during lunch breaks. Nearly everyone else took this as a chance to rest and hang out with friends since most of the students during the day would be studying. No, he was sure that anyone serious about their future would most likely end up studying even after school had ended, which is why lunchtime was reserved for breaks and playing games with your friends.

Except for someone like Cho, Cho Eunji.

Jeno took a few steps back to catch a glimpse at whoever was sitting at his favorite seat. It was the perfect place to study, it was at the edge of the library and sat in front of a window that looked out the school grounds. Sure, you would be able to hear the other students talking, laughing, and giggling, but it was the perfect mix of silence and murmurs. 

“Why did you let her sit there?” 

There in that same spot, Cho Eunji was sitting. Her eyes were glued tightly on the paper in front of her and her non-dominant left hand was keeping her head up as she read through the text in front of her. He had never seen her with earphones on, thus, this was the first sight he had ever caught her listening to music at all. The white earphones felt like a contrast to her study bug exterior.

A subtle change that he can’t seem to take his eyes off.

“Jeno,” if Naeun had never talked, he would have never taken his eyes off of her, “just take the seat beside hers.”

The comment alone makes his eyes roll. “Really?” If he could stomp, he would have, but he knew better than that.

“Jeno—” That was the last thing he heard from Naeun before he made his way to Cho, so lost in her studies that she didn’t seem to notice the looming presence over her shoulder.

 Did Jeno find Cho a beauty in his eyes? Yes. If he denied that he would be lying. But does he find her absolutely repulsing and a constant reminder that he was just not doing enough? Absolutely.

This is why instead of being the better person of simply just tapping her shoulders to catch her attention (which he didn’t need to do if he wore his big boy pants), he knocks on the the wooden table she was sitting on. Of course, her eyes would look at his hand first then slowly trace his arms to his face. Cho looked at Jeno, at first, confused then annoyed to be seeing him standing there bothering her. 

“Of all the seats?” Jeno asks her as she takes out one of her earphones. “Really?”

Cho pauses and then takes out the other earphones she has in her ear. Then she looked behind her because this was definitely a joke, wasn’t it? Then at the far back there Naeun was standing by the entrance of the library staring at the two of them with her hands on her waist just like the perfect librarian she was. She shakes her head as Eunji looks at Jeno once again. “What—”

“This is my seat.”

“Your seat?” She lifts one side of her book and then the other. Shaking her head as if she was confused that she couldn’t find what she was looking for, she looked at Jeno innocently. “Last time I checked your name isn’t written anywhere here?”

“Come on, Cho.” Jeno sighs and looks away from her in frustration. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

Eunji’s eyes just look up at Jeno innocently. “On purpose?”

Jeno could see it in her eyes. She knew. She knew that this was where he would study after eating lunch with his friends. He knew that this was where he would be at his most productive. There’s no way she didn’t know if it was written all over her face.

Jeno runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He never likes admitting defeat when it comes to Cho. It was as if his whole body was wired to not allow her to win. Thus, in his stubbornness, he doesn’t drag out the seat beside her—no, he was more petty than that. He stands.

 He stands lingering over her shoulder as he pulls out his review notebook and scans the notes he had taken in class. He just stands there, with his backpack on and his notebook in his arms. He pulled out his ballpen from his pocket and started underlining sentences he had written earlier in class. 

Eunji just sits there staring at him in absolute disbelief. There was no way Jeno was acting like a ten-year-old child not given his favorite chocolate on Halloween. No, she was sure this scene was incomprehensible for those who know Jeno merely for his academic excellence. In the mere few months he’s been at this school his reputation has skyrocketed. He was friends with cool— she dared argue that they weren’t really that cool—the crowd of the school. had grades unlike any of the guys (or any guy in school at all) in his friend group, and was gifted in the coordination department. Yet, he sulked like a small kitten who was forced to take medicines because they ate off the mud in the park.

“Just sit down will you?” She leans back on her seat.

Jeno looks around him before looking back at Cho. “My seat’s already been taken,” he shrugs his shoulder.

“Oh my god!” She sighs and throws her whole head down on the table. She looked to the side and she could see that Naeun was no longer in her line of sight. Even her friend has given up on keeping an eye on the two of them.

Jeno pauses and closes his notebook to lean his lower body on the table where her stuff sits. “I don’t even see you in the library during this time,” Jeno complains. As he remembers that he would always see her sitting in her seat chatting with Bona (who would often come and visit the class because Renjun was there). 

“What’s—”

“It’s just you also take breaks during lunch.” He shrugs not really realizing the fact that he just exposed that he paid a little more attention to her than anyone else around them.

Except, the dense Jeno was lucky that Eunji was equally as dense as he was. 

“Bona said she had something to do today.”

“That’s weird.” Jeno tilts his head to the side.

Eunji’s eyes snap towards him after his comment. “What’s weird?”

Jeno opens his mouth and then sighs. He turns his body a little bit toward her and puts his notebook down on the table. “Renjun returned to the classroom after we had lunch.” Just as his friend always did. Renjun was always the first back in the classroom because he knew that Bona would be waiting there with Eunji.

“So, Renjun doesn’t know she had something to do?” Even Eunji leaned back in her chair as she tried to think about what was going on with Bona.

“Is she sick?” Jeno asked.

Eunji shakes her head.

“Is there anything bothering her?” He tries to ask again.

“Not that—” Eunji pauses, because she knows Bona made an odd comment yesterday.

“So, she said something?”

Eunji’s head snaps up and she turns to look at Naeun. She stands up from her seat and takes a few steps towards Naeun, except she isn’t seated where she usually sits. Knowing that her friend was often busy at lunch, she didn’t want to bother her with the question about Bona. Eunji gives up and turns around, except when she does Lee Jeno is sitting in the seat she left open.

“What are you doing?” She stomps back to where he was now seated.

Jeno looks at her innocently in the same teasing manner she gave him earlier. “What?” He even shrugs his shoulders.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“What did I do?” He turns his whole body towards the desk and pulls his chair into the desk.

“You can’t possibly be sitting there, when all my stuff is literally on the table.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans her weight onto one of her legs while staring at him in absolute disbelief. 

Jeno looks over his shoulders and then down to the table. He pretends to look under the table first before heading towards the chair—even standing up in the process—and looking through it as if he would spot her name written on those two objects. “Sorry, can’t see anything here.” He shrugs.

Eunji reached down to close her open book, there at the front of the book was her name neatly printed and placed inside the plastic sleeve of the book. “Here.”

Jeno’s eyes looked at the book then back at her, then down at the book once again, and then back at her. This was all before he slumped into the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh come on, Cho, you—”

“Hey.” Naeun walked up behind Jeno and appeared closer now in Eunji’s line of sight. “Can the two of you tone it down?”

Even Eunji was baffled by the request. There was barely anyone in the library. No, Eunji and Jeno were sure that besides the three of them, no one really went around the library after lunch. Then they hear the door of the library open and close. All their heads turned towards the direction of the sound, but they were all too late. The only thing they saw was the door closing.

“Someone else was—” Jeno doesn’t even turn around.

“Aside from you,” Naeun was referring to Jeno, “Sua and Mina always come by during lunch.”

“Sua?” Eunji repeats the name Naeun had just said.

Naeun nods her head. “Yeah, Shin Sua, she’s a girl from class D. She’s really good friends with Mina from your class.” 

Eunji nods her head familiar with Mina, yet not so familiar with the girl named Sua. “She new?” She asked Naeun.

“Who? Mina or Sua?”

“Sua.”

Naeun shakes her head. “I think she moved here during her second year in middle school. She always kept to herself, so she didn’t stand out too much.”

Eunji turns her head around towards Jeno after asking Naeun all her questions. She thought clouds were forming above his head because even with the high beam of the afternoon sun, his expression had darkened. It wasn’t in anger, that much she could tell, but one she couldn’t particularly read on his face. This was saying a lot because she has definitely teased Jeno far more often, some she admits were really pushing it, but she has never seen him with this kind of expression on his face.

“Jeno? Are you—”

He stands up from his seat and takes his notebook back into his arms. Then he does something that definitely throws both Naeun and Eunji off, he bows. 

“Jeno—” This time Naeun tried calling out his name as he made his way out of the room, except he was stopped when Mina appeared from the corner.

Jeno stops walking and looks at her. Her short bobbed her and softer cheeks made her blend in really well with everybody else. There was nothing distinct on her face that he could remember, but he knew that she was definitely a classmate of his. Mina, on the other hand, after quickly meeting Jeno’s gaze averts her own and bows her head before running after her friend.

It didn’t take long before Jeno followed suit and left the library earlier than he usually did.

“What just—”

“I know.” Eunji was shocked to see that Jeno, who always seemed to like the idea of challenging her, just backed off and disappeared.

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[eddiemunsonswhxre]

never be me / eddie munson

masterlist

one shot

cw: angst, painful as heck, cursing, tears galore

eddie decides he’ll never be good enough for you and refuses to let you believe otherwise.

a/n: i want to include this in a possible future fic i’ll be writing so here’s a sneak peak of the pain it will cause :) also i wrote this in the car on the way to tennessee so if it sucks or has a lot of errors im sorry

-

eddie knew it was a dumb idea from the start. you were pretty, popular, a token good girl. and he was him.

you deserved one of those preppy boyfriends who took you to nice restaurants, wasn’t afraid to hold your hand in public, and one who didn’t have a reputation as he did. he couldn’t even let himself make it official with you. he was too scared.

now he was making it to your house as he did almost every thursday. except today it wasn’t for a study session. he’d graduated, because of you. you’d both graduated that previous weekend. he felt terrible as he thought of how to go about this. he’s never broken up with someone before, shit he’s never been this involved with someone before. he’s never loved anyone like this before.

he wanted to be selfish and keep you forever, but you had such a big future ahead of you. you’d been accepted to harvard, your dream school, and he didn’t want you having to worry about him. he’d corrupted you, so badly, and he regretted every second of it because all along he knew no matter how much he wanted too he wasn’t going to stay with you.

he’d changed you from your parents golden girl who never put a finger out of place to one who constantly defied them. you drank, you smoked, you began questioning your beliefs in god that you were so firm in when you first moved here, you were different. he took all those qualities away from you, but the thing he regretted the most was taking your virginity.

he held your purity ring in his hand as he walked up towards your front door. his hand was shaking while he stared at the dainty silver ring he wore on his necklace for the last two months. he took your virginity, something that was super important to you, just because he was selfish. he wanted to live in ignorance as long as possible, but he couldn’t spend any more time pretending like he wasn’t going to break your heart at some point. he took a deep breath and rang your doorbell.

it took a few moments and your door was flinging open. “eds! i didn’t know you were coming,” you say, smile covering your face as you fling yourself into his chest. eddie closes his eyes and gulps.

he lightly rests his arms on your back before pulling out of the hug. “sorry, i was just wondering if we could talk,” he says weakly. you nod, standing on your toes to press a peck to his lips before grabbing his hand and guiding him inside.

“oh, i was going to call you earlier but i’ve been cleaning all day,” you began as you guided him to your bedroom. “i was thinking maybe we could go to that one water park outside of indianapolis on saturday? i know you’ve never been, and we could take robin and steve too?” you asked excitedly, recalling eddie previously mentioning how fun a water park looked.

eddie feels the inside of his nose burn as he already feels like crying. he wills them back, wanting you to believe he wanted this breakup. “i can’t,” he says firmly and you half turn to him on the stairs with a frown.

“oh, well then we can go sunda-“

“i can’t,” he interrupts you and you close your mouth slowly.

you reach the top of the stairs at this point and pout. “maybe we can go next weekend then?” you suggest.

eddie feels the pain in his heart intensify already. “uh, no, y/n, i don’t think so,” he says and your pout turns into confusion. “can we just- please sit down i have some stuff i need to get out,” he huffs, more frustrated with himself then anything.

“yeah, um, o-okay,” you stutter nervously. you finish walking him to your room, dropping his hand as you sit on your bed.

he bites his lip, pacing and rubbing his hand over his face as he tries to compose himself. you look at him with concern, worried something was wrong. he looks into your eyes, faltering as he sees the worry painted in them. he wanted to back out, maybe spit out that he loved you and finally wanted to be what you wanted.

but he couldn’t. because you deserved better than him. he walks up to you and holds your ring out to you. “you should take this back,” he says shakily.

you look from his eyes to the ring. “why?” you ask.

eddie grits his teeth nervously, looking away from you. “i um-,” he starts, having to stop and take a deep breath. “whatever we are… i want it to be, to be done. i-i’m breaking up with you,” he says, looking anywhere but your eyes.

the whole world around you went blurry. your ears started to ring as a huge lump took hold in your throat. you’re silent for a moment as you process what he just said. break up. he doesn’t want you anymore. eddie looks to you and when he does his heart crumbles. he wants to take it back, but it’s too late. “b-break up?” you whisper and eddie winces.

he nods and looks off to the side again, tearing his gaze from your broken expression. “this just isn’t working, y/n,” he says softly.

“w-what isn’t working? i did- i did everything you wanted,” you ask, desperate. eddie closes his eyes as a knife digs into his already torn heart. you were right, you did everything he asked you to and here he was, saying you weren’t enough. fuck.

“we just aren’t meant to be together, okay?” he says, grabbing your wrist and placing the ring in your hand. tears stream down your face as the cold metal makes contact with your hand.

you looked up to him, swearing you saw the regret in them. “but we are, you-you said so,” you say and eddie furrows his brows.

he shakes his head, “i never said that,” he whispers, wracking his mind to try and remember if he did.

your lip quivers as a sob threatens to spill from your lips. “you did,” you sob out and eddie resists with everything in him to keep from scooping you into his arms and telling you it was all okay, that it was just a mistake. “after graduation, when we all got drunk at steve’s, you told me that you never wanted to be with anyone else. that we were-were made for each other,” you cry and eddie’s entire face falls.

“i-i did?” he chokes. he didn’t think he got that drunk that night.

you nod your head yes before standing. “take the ring back, it belongs to you now,” you say, holding it out.

his guilt filled eyes begin to water. “y/n, no, that’s yours,” he whispers.

a bit of rage enters your bloodstream. “no, because you took it, remember? i let you because you made me believe you cared about me! so, this is yours,” you say, slamming it into his chest and waiting for him to take it. he does with shaky fingers, intimidated by your small outburst. you never lost your temper.

you turn around, pulling at your hair so hard you feel like your scalp could bleed. eddie feels himself collapsing on the inside at the state of you. he reaches out towards you, wanting to pull you into him. “you told me you loved me… you lied?” you ask, refusing to turn to him.

eddie doesn’t know what to say. he does love you, but he doesn’t want you to convince him to stay. “that doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, resting his hand on your shoulder.

you fling his hand off you and spin around. “doesn’t matter?! are you fucking serious?” you scream, causing eddie to physically jump. oh fuck, you almost never cussed.

“y/n…” he starts carefully.

you shake your head, fists clenching. “no, eddie! you mean everything to me! you’re- you’re basically all i have. yeah there’s robin but she doesn’t know me like you do, i told you everything. everything! i let myself fall in love with you because you acted like and told me you loved me too. and now what? you just wanted to get to me, change me, corrupt me? take my virginity, make me need you, and then leave?” you scream.

a couple tears trickle down eddie’s cheeks. “no, no, baby, i promise you that’s not it,” he says, taking a step towards you.

you shove him back with the little strength you can manage. “then what the fuck is it?” you cry.

“i had to leave you before you left me,” he admits and you turn to glare at him.

“what?” you ask.

eddie closes his eyes. “it’s not just that, but you’re going to college, y/n. harvard for fuck’s sake! i can’t keep you when you have all these opportunities. and-and i don’t deserve you. you deserve someone so much better, someone who can make you happier than i can,” he explains and you stare at him with disappointment in your eyes as your heart splits further.

“since when did you think you got to make this choice for me? i don’t care what i deserve or what you think i deserve. i want you, eddie! i only want you,” you say, choking on your words

eddie shakes his head. “you’d be making a mistake if you stayed with me. there’s so many guys so much better than me. you said it yourself i corrupted you. you need someone stable, someone who knows how to care for you, someone who’s everything you need. and it’ll never be me. i’ll never be able to be that for you. i’m not doing this because i don’t want you or don’t love you, i’m doing this because you need to realize you can’t love me,” he explains, watching you cry.

“that’s such bullshit,” you scream, face soaked in tears.

eddie lets out a small hiccup and shakes his head. “baby, i’m doing this for you,” he says.

you cover your face with your hands as you try and grasp this. “you can’t decide this for me. i-i know what i need and i want to work on it with you because i want it to be you! maybe i wanted to be corrupted, did you ever think of that? i don’t care if you’re stable because in relationships you care for each other when you’re not. you are everything that i need, eddie,” you beg, trying to get it through to him.

eddie closes his eyes in a mix of pain and frustration. “no, i'm not. you’re not thinking long term, baby. i can’t follow you to school, you won’t even have me around and i can’t support you from hundreds of miles away even if we could work this out,” he explains.

you go quiet and let out a sob. “i denied harvard,” you whisper and eddie freezes up.

“you-you what?” he asks, stunned.

you look up to him, pain pouring from every pore of your body. “i told harvard no, eddie. i’m going to university of indianapolis, it’s like less than forty five minutes away,” you say, picking at your nails.

eddie feels his chest deflate. “why’d you… harvard is your dream school,” he says, confusion filling his bones.

you looked up at him with empty eyes. “harvard is a dream, you’re real,” you say quietly and eddie’s whole heart shatters.

“you didn’t go to harvard… because of me?” he asks in a whisper.

you nod, biting your lower lip. “you begged me not to go… told me you needed me and shit and that everyone else always leaves. i didn’t want to be everyone else, and honestly i’d rather stay close to you that start over again completely in a new state,” you admitted.

eddie closes his eyes. “that’s so,” he starts, “stupid,” he exhaled. you narrow your eyes at him, you did it because you loved him.

“i did it for you, for us,” you say, anger filling your blood again.

eddie shakes his head. “no, i-i’m not holding you back. call them, write them whatever. you need to go to harvard,” he demands.

you furrow your brows. “no, eddie i want to stay here, with you,” you say.

he shakes his head once more, swallowing. “you can’t stay here with me. be-because we’re not even together, at all anymore. i'm not changing my mind. i’m sorry, but, there’s never going to be an us,” he says, really only saying it so you’d go. he couldn’t be the reason you didn’t go to harvard. he was nothing compared to that school. that was your dream, not him.

“but, eddie, i love you, and i know you love me too-“ you say but eddie holds up his hand.

he knows you’ll probably know he’s lying, but he prepares to lie anyway. “no, i don’t. no matter what you do, i won’t be with you. just- i-i never want to see you again. goodbye, y/n,” he says, turning and bolting out of your room.

your heart shatters as he leaves. “eddie!” you call, bolting after him. “eddie, wait, please,” you say, running down the stairs after him. since when was he fast?

eddie tries his best to tune you out, tears falling freely from his eyes. “eddie, please, don’t do this. please, don’t leave me,” you scream, sobbing as you blindly run out the door he left open in his rush.

eddie chokes on his sobs as he hears your pained cries. “eddie, please,” you sob, as he opens the door to his van, hopping in and starting it. you reach his passenger door which was locked but you put your hands to his window. at some point, it has started to rain and your tears were starting to bleed into the rain drops.

eddie takes one look at you and falters, he was breaking you. and it hurt like hell. “please, i love you,” you sob, hands slapping on the wet glass. it’s for your own good, eddie tells himself. he throws his van in reverse and floors it out of your driveway.

you try running after him, but he’s peeling out of your neighborhood like he was running from the police. eddie lets out a sob as he watches you fall to your knees at the end of your driveway, crying into your hands as the rain soaked through your clothes. “god damnit!” he yelled, slamming his hands on the steering wheel.

~

just about twenty four hours later there’s banging on eddie’s trailer door. he groans, burying himself further into his depression bed. he was currently laying in just his boxers in a mess of tissues, snot covered sheets, a blanket you’d left in his van, and holding one of your sweatshirts you kept here to sleep in. the banging doesn’t stop and suddenly on his window, causing him to jump.

“get out here, munson, i know you’re in there,” steve harringtons voice yells at his closed and covered window.

“fuck,” eddie mutters. he was definitely about to get his ass beat. he stood up, pulling on a stray pair of pajama pants and wiping his nose for the millionth time. there’s more knocking on his door and he groans. “i’m coming!” he yells hoarsely. he marches to his door, swinging it open to see robin, steve, and dustin standing at his door.

dustin’s jaw drops at the sight of eddie. his face was beet red, his eyes were swollen, red, and glossy, and his nose looking raw from rubbing it, not to mentioned his bloody lips for how much he was biting them. “where’s y/n?” robin asks directly, looking around eddie.

he furrows his brow, maybe she hasn’t told them yet. “not here?” he questions, voice nasally. robin pushes past him, deciding she needs to search for herself. “hey, what the fuck?” eddie says, stumbling back.

“she’s not with you?” steve asks, looking at dustin who looked panicked. “that’s your girlfriend, man, you’ve gotta know where she is,” he continues.

eddie coughs into his hand, eyes stinging again. “she was never my- doesn’t matter. we broke up, yesterday,” he says, crossing his arms and looking down to his toes.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. that’s probably why,” dustin says, slapping steve on the arm, an alarmed expression on his face.

robin comes back to them, tears in her eyes. “i don’t know where else to look,” she whispers and eddie looks between them all.

he starts to panic, what were they talking about? “wait, what’s going on?” he asks, looking to dustin knowing he’d be the first to spill anything.

“y/n is missing,” he says and eddie’s eyes widen.

“what?” he yells, fear flooding his entire body.

robin and steve look between each other and steve knows he has to talk because robin’s about to start crying. “y/n was supposed to hang out with us last night and take dustin to breakfast this morning. she didn’t show up or answer any of our calls. we went over last night but no one answered the door. about an hour and half ago i took the hidden key they have and just went in. she’s not there but her car is and we-we found this,” steve says, reaching into his pocket. he pulls out a crumpled piece of notebook paper and hands it to eddie.

i need to be alone, please don’t look for me x -y/n

eddie feels like his soul leaves his body as he begins to shake.

oh god.

oh no.

what did he do?

[book-of-baba-fett]

Illicit Affairs - Chapter 17

Captain Rex x OC

Chapter Summary: Talia catches up and unwinds with some old friends on Kamino, but does she make a choice she'll regret?

Chapter Rating: E

Warnings: Angst, Smut. Piv, drinking, drunk sex.

A/N: please don't hate me you guys lol. I swear things will get lighter for a moment. Getting close to the endgame now! Thanks as always to @galacticgraffiti for being a wonderful Beta reader! As always, comments/likes/reblogs are so SO appreciated.

Ao3 Link Series Masterlist

Rex had one time tried to tell Talia that every day on Kamino wasn’t rainy, that sometimes the sun peaked out behind the gray veil of clouds, but the past two days spent in Tipoca City felt shrouded in time, Talia’s internal clocked screwed up as she shuffled from briefing to briefing. She met with cadets, all of whom seemed in awe at the presence of a Jedi. It was sweet how they spoke with excitement, but Talia couldn’t ignore the twist in her gut as they vowed their unwavering support to the Republic. So young, yet that was the only life they were told about. At lunch she ate with Storm, who had attended his own sessions to assist training cadets as well, but Storm could sense something had been going on with Talia lately. He had been watching her closely since Turia, maybe just checking in on her as she recovered, but by now she was ready to snap at him, no longer wanting to deal with his probing gaze.

It was almost dinner time, and she knew he would be waiting again. But Talia wasn’t hungry, and didn’t feel the urge to risk him asking too many questions about why her mood was so downcast as of late. She debated heading to a training room again; she hadn’t gotten much further with her progress with force lightning. She really did rely on an output of rage to create it, so each burst seemed weaker than the last. She tried delving into her mind, finding fuel for the energy while she trained, but the dark place it took her was taxing. She was torn between the drive for the power, and the mental wall she had put up against it.  She knew it was risky even dabbling with it this much. But she wanted to try it more. There had to be good use for a power like this, the Council just didn’t see it yet.

She knew also  that she shouldn’t push herself, though; the process was physically and mentally draining. Her knuckles were raw and bruised already from not taking proper care in her earlier training. A residual ache lingered in her body from the exhaustion of pushing herself past her limits. Talia had enough sense to know she shouldn’t push it more for the day, but now found herself wandering the too-bright pathways of Tipoca City. 

Pacing through the halls, Talia paused to watch the ever-storming weather outside, her gaze following a graceful aiwha as it flew out of the water, battling against the wind before diving back into the thrashing waters.

“General Riva!” A booming voice called from her side. Talia didn’t have time to turn but she didn’t need to see who it was; only one clone had such a presence, and quite honestly had the nerve to swoop her up in a wampa-hug that threatened to break her ribs.

“Wrecker!” Talia coughed out in laughter as her feet left the ground. Wrecker quickly placed her back on the ground – the man meant well, at times he just forgot his own strength. Talia grinned at him and took in the rest of Clone Force 99 behind him. She had met them about a year ago, when they had helped the 412th on a mission when the battalion was still in its rebuilding phase after the vicious attack from Maul.

Hunter stood to the side of Wrecker, a small smile of greeting on his tattooed face. Tech seemed more interested in something on his datapad, but mumbled his greetings, while Crosshair stood the furthest back, a signature toothpick in his mouth.

“Good to see you all! Nothing ever seems to change with you guys. Crosshair, your smile is as lovely as ever.”

The sniper rolled his eyes at that, but Talia caught the smallest flicker of a grin threatening to peek through. Hunter stepped forward and held his arm out, which Talia accepted to shake as he spoke, “Good to see you, General. What brings you to Kamino?”

“Just some repairs, picking up some new troops,” Talia shrugged. She tilted her head back, “You all heading to the mess? I guess I should finally head over and get some food.”

“We just got back from a mission-“ Hunter started

“-and don’t feel like dealing with that many regs,” Crosshair added under his breath.

“So, we were just going to head to our quarters,” Hunter finished, ignoring the statement from his brother. He glanced at Talia, back at his squad, then back to her “We actually have some…uh… contraband, if you’re looking for something to do tonight?”

“Offering alcohol to a General? That’s a bold move,” Talia scoffed, crossing her arms. For a moment Hunter looked flustered, as if he were worried she might actually reprimand them when Talia laughed, loosening her posture and slapping him on the shoulder. “You have no idea what I would do for a drink – I’m in.”

The Bad Batch were truly unlike any clones Talia worked with; besides their physical differences, they had their oddities that made them an interesting bunch to hang out with. What they had in common with their reg counterparts, was their bond with each other. The way they would nag and tease one another, a  flair for embellishment when recalling war stories. And for Talia it was a needed break, listening to them goof off after having a few beers.

Wrecker found a way to grow more boisterous under the influence of alcohol, Tech would fall into slightly slurred tangents that were loosely related to the topic of conversation which would prompt Crosshair to teasingly taunt him to ‘turn the page’ to the next topic, but Talia caught the way his normally stern face slipped into a smirk as he joked with his brother. Hunter leaned back in his chair, slowly nursing his drink, a light flush on his cheeks. He would occasionally toss Talia an apologetic glance when one of his brothers made a particularly crass joke, but Talia always waved it off with a smile.

The night quickly moved on, Talia and the Batch drinking more of the beer they had stashed away. It was cheap stuff, even more watered down than what Republic offered for free to clones at 79’s; but it worked to give Talia a light buzz. She leaned against the table, laughing and tossing out jokes once she felt more comfortable- Talia knew the Kaminoans would disapprove for so many reasons, but she didn’t care.

Talia thought back to herself at the beginning of the war, unsure and a bit uncomfortable in her new role as a General. Many nights she had secluded herself in her own quarters as the Venator drifted through space, reading into the late hours. Then one time as the ship was docking in Coruscant, Church, Storm and a few others had invited her to 79’s for the first time. She’d been hesitant, but she accepted.

It was nice, seeing her men more at ease; even if they were as unsure how to act with her off duty as she was with them. But they settled in, getting a bit drunk and enjoying each other’s company. For Talia, that was the moment it hit her how close she was in age to the men she served with, how normal hanging out with them in down time felt. She started to make a habit of going, or relaxing in the barracks after a long mission. Maybe it was unprofessional for her as their technical superior, but Talia grew to rely on the downtime.  She felt it from the men too: the longer they fought the more they needed these little moments where they could dull the stresses of war. And when soldiers passed on, she was able to look back on those nights as a way to remember them, remember the way they laughed or the dumb jokes told. 

That’s why she felt at ease whenever she went out with the 501st, or even now drinking with the Batch. She didn’t know them as well as her own men, but it was easy to sit in and relax with them. The beer was hitting her head, how little food she had that day more obvious as she could feel herself getting drunk. But she didn’t care, she hadn’t laughed this hard in awhile. She felt like the weight that had been resting in her gut ever since Turia was slightly lessened, the laughter easing the tension that settled over her and the alcohol numbing the bitterness she felt. Maybe this was made easier by how different Rex was from the Batch. They didn’t look like the regular clones, their voices even sounded slightly different so she didn’t feel that jolt of pain she had been feeling any time she talked to a soldier since she had last seen Rex. 

Shit. She’d done it again. She’d thought of Rex.

Talia glanced at the empty bottle in her hand; the drink was obviously not doing its job if she was still being reminded of him. She reached for another full bottle, cracked the lid open and gulped.

“How do you drink so much for someone so tiny?” Wrecker’s voice called out from across the table, a teasing grin on his face. Sure enough, about half a dozen empty bottles sat in front of him, and the large clone seemed barely buzzed.

“I handle my booze just fine,” Talia answered seriously, not realizing the evident slur that would lay in her voice nor predicting how when she waved her hand, she would knock over the empty bottles in front of her. The boys laughed at her clumsiness, and she grinned bashfully, reaching down to pick up the bottles. “In my defense, I would have done that sober.”

It turns out the Bad Batch had a decent beer supply, pulling out a new case and drinking more. Talia still more observed their conversation, her eyes being drawn to the waves outside the window once more. How they thrashed against the foundations for Tipoca City, the lights from the buildings reflecting against the surface before it faded into darkness, the waters a black void in the nighttime that would occasionally be illuminated by bolts of lightning. 

Talia was vaguely aware of the boys getting into a brotherly argument, catching a glimpse of something that sounded vaguely like a plan to head into the shooting range. As the ranking officer present, she probably should have had the sense to say something along the lines of ‘alcohol and blasters don’t mix’ but she was more fascinated with the sight out the viewport. The door slammed shut, a silence settling in the room with the absence left from Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker. Hunter grabbed a few bottles, placing them together to slightly tidy up, his eye flicking to Talia as she sat with her thoughts. She held her bottle in her hand, the cool glass against her skin as she twisted it in her fingers, the ale sloshing inside, a poor mimicry of the waves outside.

“Everything ok?” Hunter asked, nudging Talia and breaking her from her silent periphery. Her head jerked to the side, glancing at him. Talia stilled her movements of the bottle, instead, tilting it back and swallowed the remaining booze.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Talia answered right after as Hunter raised a brow doubtingly. Talia sighed. “Just had a long training day, that’s all.”

 Hunter huffed out a laugh. “I understand that; whenever we come back around the Kaminoans run us through every possible test and training routine.”

“Coming home isn’t just all fun?” Talia asked, already knowing the answer. Kamino might be home to the clones, and some had differing degrees of sentimentality to it, but there was nothing ‘homey’ about the aquatic world that she had witnessed these few days.

“It’s not all bad; don’t have to deal with clankers, but I guess we have to trade them in for the Kaminoans,” Hunter answered, earning a giggle from Talia.

“Not that I’m complaining, because it was nice to see a more relaxed side of you, but why did you spend your night with us? Surely you must have had more exciting things to do?” Hunter seemed sincere with his questioning, a curious glance in his eye.

“Not at all; I’m not a very exciting person.” Talia shrugged, earning a disbelieving huff of laughter from the clone next to her.

“I doubt that,” Hunter replied, leaning against the table to smirk at her. Talia rotated on the bench, swinging her legs over it so she sat facing him.  Maybe it was the influence of the cheap beer, but it really was hard to tell he was a clone. Hunter didn’t have the same sweet honeyed eyes of his brothers; his were smoky, like everything else about him from his long hair to the tattoo covering half his face. Talia always felt the tattoo acted as a mask half the time; imperceptible emotions hidden away under it. A fierceness that hid a layer of softness underneath. She couldn’t quell the curiosity in her mind that wondered how far the skeletal pattern went on the rest of his body.

“Oh, I mean it,”” Talia insisted, taking one last sip of the beer in her hands; she didn’t even realize she had been that close to finishing another one. Her cheeks were warm, the room slightly swaying but she contributed a part of that to the waves rocking outside. Talia pressed her arm against the table, leaning against it and mirroring Hunter’s pose facing her. “Don’t really get up to much. Unless you count that one time I was kidnapped by bounty hunters and held hostage by Count Dooku.”

Hunter looked taken aback for a second at Talia’s blunt delivery, but his face broke into a grin as he shook his head. Talia giggled, feeling a bit lighter by the minute. Maybe this was what she needed. A distraction, her head being somewhere else.

“Still, hanging out with me and my brothers probably isn’t up to your speed,” Hunter continued. “Hope the boys haven’t been driving you too crazy.”

“Hunter, I would be perfectly capable of leaving if I was bored,” Talia rolled her eyes. “Besides, you all are…refreshing. And I needed to unwind a little.”

“So did it help?” Hunter asked, spreading his arms wide on the edge of the table behind him. Talia’s eyes flicked to the way his biceps pressed against the tight material of his undersuit, quickly correcting herself to bring them back to his face. “Hanging out, do you feel less stressed?”

“A bit,” Talia nodded, ignoring the heat settling in her cheeks.

“Anything in particular bothering you?” Hunter asked once again, his voice filled with sincerity. The liquor loosening her lips tempted Talia to talk about everything on her mind; about her own insecurities with the Order and as a leader, how stuck she felt, about Rex. But her last shred of composure allowed her to keep it in, stoppering the bottle of emotions in her.

“Just had a lot of long campaigns in a row,” Talia answered vaguely. It wasn’t a lie. Just withholding the finer details.

“I understand,” Hunter sighed, leaning into the table. “Half the time we aren’t even finished with one mission before we’re getting our next assignments.”

“I just want it all to be over with,” Talia admitted. “No more fighting; I’m good at it, but I never wanted to be a soldier.”

“What did you want then?” It was the type of question that had run through Talia’s brain often these past few days. In theory, it should be simple to answer. But Talia felt a weight pressing on her chest every time she even tried to delve into it.

“I’m not sure, but I know this isn’t it.” Talia answered softly. Hunter’s brows cinched, searching for something comforting to say. If he knew her better, he probably would probe her more, trying to get out of Talia what was really troubling her, what left her in this limbo of doubt. His eyes met hers, soft and reassuring and Talia allowed a smile back, something to signal she was ok.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Hunter assured, “It’s a pretty wide galaxy out there. Besides, you’re an amazing woman, and I don’t think there’s much you can’t do.”

Talia resisted the urge to sarcastically laugh, thinking of all the things she failed at. But Hunter was being so sincere, something about his presence was so strangely calming. It was…nice having this sort of reassurance. Even if she didn’t want to talk more in depth about it, someone being there and seeming to care was comforting. And he was familiar. The way his face scrunched when he thought, the small smile he gave, even the sound of his voice; it was scratching the surface of what she knew. And maybe she had been wrong in secluding herself so much lately, because even just this moment of company was partially filling a vacancy that had been left within her. Or maybe it was the drunken haze settled into her, driving some innate need of hers to be with someone else, to feel something else than the loneliness that she allowed to seep in recently.

Talia wasn’t sure what propelled her to do it, whether it was just the beer or the way he smirked at her, or just how much she craved the touch of another person. But Talia leaned in, pressing her lips to Hunter’s, chasing him back as he mumbled something in surprise. 

Hunter did not protest, instead his hands found purchase on her hips as Talia clumsily straddled his lap, his grip steadying her and pulling her tighter to him. Talia moaned into his mouth as her core grinded against the bulge forming in his pants, eliciting a curse from Hunter as he gripped her harder, encouraging her to keep moving against him. The kiss was needy, desperate, remnants of beer lingering on their lips. Talia slid a hand up Hunter’s neck, gripping his hair and tugging lightly. Hunter pulled back for air, and for a moment Talia was worried she had crossed a line but before she knew it aHunter’s hands were sliding lower to grip her ass as he stood.

Talia yelped as she was jolted up. Hunter picked her up and turned them around, just to place her at the edge of the table. He leaned down, kissing her again as Talia’s hand’s found purchase on the front of his shirt, tugging the fabric up.

“Are you sure?” Hunter asked breathily, pulling back to search for any hesitancy from Talia. She shook her head and tugged at his shirt once more. She bit her lip and met his eyes. 

“I’ve always wanted to know how far down this tattoo went,” Talia smirked, pressing her hand to his face. Hunter returned the smirk and helped her remove his shirt. He was leaner than Rex, Talia observed, and the skeletal tattoo continued down his torso, black lines over his toned chest and disappearing beneath the waist line of his pants. Before Talia could reach to pull more off him, Hunter’s hands met the hem of her tunic, unwrapping her robes. His eyes glanced up to hers once more and she nodded, her hands meeting his to help speed up the process.

This was no flight of passion, not a moment of devotion and need for one another, where they were the only thing that could satisfy the other’s need; no, it was instinct, it was desperate and rushed. 

It was craving the touch of someone else, almost pretending it was something more just to fill the void. 

Talia quickly tossed off the last of her clothes, just for Hunter’s rough hands to meet her skin. She moaned as he cupped her breasts, arching herself to press into his touch. His head dipped and he took a nipple into his mouth, swiping over it with his tongue. Talia gasped at the tingling pleasure brought on by Hunter’s mouth, her hands once again landing on his head. Hunter seemed to like it when she tugged on his hair, because he started to suck on her breast, his hand roughly squeezing the other as she cried out.

Hunter pulled back and glanced over her body, the remnants of his spit still glistening over her chest, her legs spread wide and revealing herself completely to him. It suddenly struck Talia, the intimacy of it all, almost too much for what she wanted. She flipped herself over, resting her forearms on the table and sticking her ass out for him to see.

“Fuck me, Hunter,” she sighed, glancing gover her shoulder at him. His eyes were wide as they trained on her wiggling ass. “I want you inside me.”

“Are you sure?” Hunter asked once again as he slowly, hesitantly gripped his cock.

“Yes, just… fuck me already,” Talia ordered, facing forward once more.

Hunter’s hands gripped her waist, his thumbs massaging over her skin as the head of his cock nudged against the lips of her pussy. Her heart was pounding, a thud in her head that could be partially contributed to the ample amount of alcohol in her system. Hunter slowly pressed into her, groaning at the tightness around his cock. Talia winced slightly from the stretch with no foreplay, but relaxed into it, moaning as he settled all the way inside her. The fullness made her eyes roll back into her head, that satisfying relief of having that which she had been craving.

Hunter’s hips slowly rocked back and forth, his breath rugged and hoarse above her as he squeezed the flesh of her hips. His cock dragged along her walls, her cunt squeezing around him. 

Talia’s body was still wound tight, a need for something still stirred in her gut and as good as it felt having him inside her she needed even more. Her palms pressed flat on the surface of the table for more leverage as Talia bounced her ass back to meet his strokes. Hunter cursed as Talia met his thrusts, his cock hitting deeper inside her. It ignited something in him, maybe knowing she wanted more was the right push he needed to give it his all.  He placed a hand between Talia’s shoulder blades, nudging her down against the table as he fucked into her harder.

Talia’s cheek rested against the cool surface, the edge of the table imprinting along her thighs. Talia squeezed her eyes shut, listening as the room was filled by the jostling of the table, slightly skidding on the floor with each thrust, the slap of Hunter’s hips meeting Talia’s ass, his grunts and her high-pitched gasps echoing along the walls. She felt his hand as it firmly held her back in place, his fingers spread wide against the smooth and now sweat dampened skin. Blood was rushing through her head, her mind numb as she succumbed to the feel of Hunter burying himself in her, each buck of his hips like a lightning strike of pleasure to her gut. 

Even in her state, that prickling feeling in the back of her mind reminded Talia how the rest of the batch could walk back in at any moment, that they could see her naked and bent over the table they had all been drinking at moments ago, having all sense being fucked out of her by their Sergeant. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. She needed this, needed to feel him using her for his pleasure. Needed to feel the touch of someone else, get to that precipice of an orgasm that wasn’t from her own hand. Needed to feel something.

Talia’s legs were twitching as they hung off the side of the table, no longer able to rest on the ground as the hot waves of pleasure began to spread through her body. Hunter’s breath grew more frantic, his grunts getting louder as his pace grew sloppy. He lowered himself so his chest pressed into her back, their skin clinging to the other. Talia almost cursed at him for changing the angle when her orgasm was so close, but her words were lost to a cry of pleasure as he slammed himself into her deeper and harder. His head fell in the crook of her neck, his breath hot on her skin. His rasping voice in her ear telling her how good she felt, how hot she was, and grunting her name before he pulled out, spilling hot spurts of his cum on her ass.

Hunter stepped back, his breathing still heavy, his voice husky as he asked, “Did you finish?”

“Yeah,” Talia lied, her own breath still tense. She could feel Hunter’s gaze on her, his own doubt in her words palpable but he didn’t voice it. 

Hunter stepped away, murmuring something about getting a towel as Talia slowly pressed herself up. Through the glass on the window she caught her reflection, her hair disheveled, her cheeks flushed, but mostly what she caught was the exhaustion in her face. Her heart rate slowed down,the orgasm  slowly fading away, and she was left wrung out. It had felt satisfying while it was happening, it had seemed like what she wanted. But an ache settled in her chest because it wasn’t enough, because it only scratched the surface of what she really wanted. Who she really wanted.

After considering the past few days a victory for having not cried, Talia couldn’t stop the flow of tears that suddenly cascaded down her face. It seemed as though her body was trying to release every bottle up emotion she had through her tears as she heaved out a sob and crouched to the ground.

“Shit, Talia?” Hunter’s called out, rushing back over to crouch where she huddled and hot flashes of mortification hit Talia. She didn’t want to be crying right now, but it felt like a dam had burst, and she could not stop herself.

“I’m so so-sorry,” Talia choked out, trying to stop the tears but all she managed to do was cry harder. Naked. On the floor. With Hunter staring at her as horrified as Talia truly felt.

“Don’t apologize, I should apologize!” Hunter hurried to grab the remnant of Talia’s clothes where they were scattered about. He brought them over to her, seemed like he was going to try and put them on her again but retracted his hands and just held out the clothes for Talia to shakily accept. “Please, what did I do? Did I hurt you?”

“No you didn’t, you were great. I’m just in love,” Talia’s voice cracked out in a sobbing drunken slur.

Hunter stared at her, his horror fading into confusion, then ran a hand through his hair. “Gen-Talia, I’m very flattered but uh-“

Talia actually managed to hiccup a laugh in between her sobs, as she loosely wrapped her tunic on. “No, n-not you. I’m not that drunk.”

“Let me get you some water,” Hunter stood up to grab a canteen as Talia redressed. He pulled his shirt over his head as she gulped it down, then kept a watchful eye on her until she finished it. “Listen, I’m so sorry if you felt I pushed you to do anything, I thought you were more aware and wanted-“

“Hunter, I wanted it,” Talia cut him off. “It’s just…I recently got out of a relationship and thought this would-.”

Talia couldn’t finish the sentence because she herself didn’t know the answer. Did she really think having sex with someone else would magically make her feelings for Rex go away? Did she just want to numb the pain she was feeling and used the first person she could find?

Hunter stared at her for a moment, understanding dawning on his features. He didn’t need Taia to explain further. He just nodded and sat next to her, “I didn’t think Jedi did the whole relationship thing.”

“We’re not supposed to, at least not fully,” Talia explained, still sniffling. “We’re encouraged to love, but are supposed to be able to let go. I’m struggling with the latter.”

“Who was the guy?” Hunter asked after a beat. As Talia bit her lip and looked down he quickly added, “You don’t have to-“

“He’s another clone,” Talia admitted softly. Her hand reflexively went to her neck, searching for the necklace she would usually fiddle with whenever she was thinking or nervous. In another jolt to the gut she remembered she didn’t have it anymore. “He ended it because things were too complicated.”

That was putting it too simply, Talia knew it. And she had a hunch Hunter knew it too by how he looked at her, but he didn’t question it.

“But you love him?”

Talia nodded, wiping her face with the back of her forearm. “Didn’t get to tell him that though.”

Hunter and Talia sat in silence after that. He offered her more water as tears still fell from her face. When she couldn’t cry anymore, she could barely keep her eyes open, the sweet temptation of sleep calling to her.

“You can crash here if you need to, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” Hunter offered as he stood up. He held out his hand to Talia, which she accepted while shaking her head.

“No, I shouldn’t. Besides the walk back to my quarters might do me some good,” Talia waved him off. Hunter looked doubtingly at her to which she just rolled her eyes, “I can message you when I get back, does that make you feel better?”

“Yes it does; you can barely stand straight and I don’t want to think you fell into the ocean,” Hunter nudged her with a smirk. Talia actually managed to giggle a laugh at that. She made a last attempt to make herself appear a little bit together in the event that she walked into anyone on her route back, but she accepted it was a lost cause.

The halls were empty, their white glow adding to her already forming headache. She didn’t rush her walk back; even though she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep she was already dreading the feelings that would come in the morning. The guilt she was feeling was gnawing at her, guilt for her own embarrassment, for how Hunter had to see her in that state, and that bit of guilt that made her feel like she had betrayed Rex.

Every bit of this planet reminded Talia of Rex. She should have known drinking would just make that worse. She didn’t expect it to make her admit the depth of her feelings for Rex. How much she missed him calling to check in on her, the thought that she could meet up with him on leave sometime soon, or that they even could have a mission that would bring them together. These empty white halls and the thousands of identical faces just made her ache for the one that now probably wanted nothing to do with her. If she had told him she loved him back on Turia, would he have still ended it? Or would he have fought to keep her, like how she wanted him too?

Talia found herself in her quarters, once again plunged into that darkness with nothing but the void of the sea outside her window. The rain had slowed, the waves lightly rocking instead of thrashing; she wondered if it would actually be a sunny day tomorrow. Her fading buzz tingled through her, her eyes growing heavy as she collapsed in the bed, holding her comm in her hand.

Dawn on Coruscant felt timeless in parts of the city; the buildings rose so high that on certain platforms you couldn’t tell the sun was rising, a peculiar haze just settled into the city. There were remnants of bar goers still out from a few of the clubs that stayed open later, night and morning shift workers trading places in their commutes, freight vessels landing in the atmosphere carrying food, medical supplies, and all the miscellaneous supplies the people of the Republic’s capital needed.  It was a bit of a walk from Naobe’s apartment to the train station; Rex had stayed there longer than he should have, but he was still slipping out before she could wake up.

Rex needed to clear his head; he had done nothing wrong technically, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his gut, that guilt that made him feel like he had. Maybe Naobe would be upset to find her empty bed that morning, she had seemed fairly interested in him, but Rex wasn’t planning on seeing her again. It was a stupid distraction. One night with a random woman wasn’t going to make him forget how he was feeling. Wouldn’t make him forget Talia. He had known that, yet he still felt disappointed.

Still, he couldn’t dwell on it. He was Captain Rex of the 501st. He had a duty to the Republic, to the brothers who served under him; he couldn’t let his emotions get in the way of that. He would push through like he had pushed through everything else that had come his way.

Rex arrived at the train station; it was empty apart from a couple sitting on a bench near the ticket booth. It was a quick ride to the base, and the next train should only be a few minutes away. Rex glanced at the couple, a Twi’lek man and woman. The man held a bag in his hands, and the woman was leaning on his shoulder, eyes drifting closed as she fought to stay awake. Rex looked away, fiddling with his comm as he felt like he was invading on something too private.

He had muted his comm while at Naobe’s, and had a couple messages. Nothing urgent it seemed, mostly the chat he was in with a few of the CC’s going off. Flicking through them to clear the notification, something else caught his eye that punched him in the gut.

Talia had left him a voice message.

Rex stared at the screen, unsure of if he should wait until he got to base, play the message now, or just delete it and save himself the trouble. But his own desire to hear the sound of her voice won out, and Rex hit play, letting the message echo through his helmet.

--

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@djarrex @justanothersadperson93 @paige6768 @saltywintersoldat @clonecyaree @dinner-djarin @whore4rex @raven--queen @swlover2187 @collectoroffics @pinkiemme @twistedstitcher27 @frietiemeloen @a-c-lee @ashotofspotchka @galacticgraffiti @itsagrimm @rexandechosandwich @immortalhdx @thebitchformerlyknownaskenobi @stankferrik @aquaamethyst96 @mavendeb @alwayssnivellus @rain-on-kamino @nyravioppri @staryskyforever @amyroswell @Sailingthehighseas @lucyysthings @manqoz

[cjsinkythoughts]

Rocks, Shoulders, and Ears

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3501

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Major Angst in this one, guys, Loads of Feels (sorry not sorry), John Walker being a douche (I really don’t like the guy)

A/N: I’m SO SORRY! I promise I was planning on it being shorter, but I went a little overkill with the angst! There’s just so many feelings and not enough space in my heart and soul, so I had to pour them out here! You get to see more of Reader and Sam’s relationship in this one and there’s major Bucky Feels towards the end (in my defense, this is based on the Couples Therapy half of the episode).

I’m really hoping we get to see Bucky go to Louisiana next episode! I’m holding out for it! I have a few ideas that include Sarah, but I need the episode! Ugh! Now we have to wait a whole ‘nother week! I really shouldn’t write three chapters on one episode in one day. I just couldn’t help myself!

Anyways! Please enjoy this part and thank you so much for all your support! Seriously, it’s meant so much to me, especially after the week I’ve had! If you haven’t checked out the previous parts, my FATWS Series Masterlist is HERE, so please go read those first. Like always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Enjoy, babes!

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The last thing you remembered was falling asleep in Bucky’s arms after walking a few miles. And a hospital in DC wasn’t exactly what you preferred waking up to, but it’s what happened. Turned out, not only was your shoulder dislocated and your thigh was strained, but you had a mild concussion. Your arm was in a sling and your palm, which you had completely forgotten about after you wrapped it while on Bucky’s back, was wrapped properly. Luckily, your thigh wasn’t too bad, but they wanted to put you on crutches, which you refused immediately.

You had to get out of that building. You had no idea where the guys went, which was weird because you were sure they’d never leave you alone. Especially in a hospital.

You quickly snuck your way through the halls after grabbing your bag which - thank God - was left on the seat besides your bed and changing into an extra pair of clothes. 

You tried calling Bucky’s phone, the one he had specifically for you, which he always always answered. He even made an excuse to go to the bathroom once when you accidentally called in the middle of a therapy session. Nothing. You called the number four times before trying Sam’s phone.

It clicked on the first try.

“Hey. Listen, sorry for leaving-”

“Where the hell are you?”

You heard him sigh. “I was just about to explain, so hang on a second there. You weren’t waking up, probably because that concussion you forgot to mention to us-”

“In my defense, I didn’t know.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your free hand up, exasperated. “Anyways, Bucky wanted me to meet someone, we’ll talk about that when you inevitably get here, put we had a bit of trouble and Bucky was arrested-”

“What?!”

“Chill your pants, Y/L/N. Just listen. We’re in Baltimore. I’ll text you the address. Get here soon and I’ll explain the whole thing. We’ve been here for a couple hours, but there’s people on their way and we’re getting everything situated right now.”

“Okay. Fine. But you’re in trouble.”

“Don’t I know it, babe. Now hurry your cute little ass here. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

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

The ride from DC to Baltimore is usually an hour or so, but you’ve got resources, especially in the nation’s capital, and riding the bike you got, being able to go way over the speed limit? You got there in half the time. Being an Avenger really does have its perks.

The moment you got there, you hopped off the bike, not even bothering to turn it off, and stormed into the precinct. You headed straight over to the desk, but a pair of hands caught you by your uninjured arm before you could make a scene.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam spoke softly, squeezing your bicep gently. “He’s okay, alright?”

“Why is he-”

“He missed his court-mandated therapy session.” Sam informed you, pulling you over to where he had been sitting previously. “There was a warrant out for his arrest. They had to bring him in, but it’s fine. His therapist’s been contacted. She should be here any minute to get him out.”

Your head fell back at his words. His therapy. How could you forget? You let Bucky complain to you about it and played along sometimes, but you really did think it was good for him and you tried supporting him. Yet you made him miss it and now he’s in trouble.

“Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” You found Sam’s worried eyes, his hand coming up to hold the side of your neck. “He’s okay. He’ll be out in just a bit. It’s fine.”

“It’s my fault, Sam.”

“No. It’s not. He’s a grown ass man who made the decision to skip.”

You shook your head, holding his wrist for something to anchor you down. “No, Sammy. I brought him along. I should’ve been more responsible-”

“I know we’ve joked around about you being in charge and stuff, but…you know it’s not all on your shoulders, right?” Sam tilted his head slightly, eyebrow pinched in confusion making his eyes narrow. 

You turned your head, not wanting to look at him. You didn’t need another set of deep eyes to fall into. “Sammy…I promised him I’d look after you.”

“I know. And that’s fine. But looking after us - looking after him - doesn’t mean you have to be there to hold his hand and take the fall for him. He’s not a child. Hell, he’s a hundred years old. Tell me you understand that.”

Licking your lips, you closed your eyes and shook your head again. “I-I can’t-”

“Is that why you’re obsessed with finding Wanda?”

You frowned at his question, eyes snapping to his. “I’m worried about her, Sam.”

“I am too, but she can handle herself. And if she doesn’t want to be found, you have to let her be. I know the Avengers were your only family. I know how much Steve meant to you-”

“No.” You pulled away rather harshly, digging your nails into your palms, trying not to cry, ignoring the wound you were irritating. “No, you don’t. How could you understand my feelings for Steve when I don’t understand them myself?”

Sam always had this ability to make anyone feel important, just by looking them in the eye. It was something you always admired about him; the way his smile could light up a room, those warm eyes making everyone’s fears go away. They reminded you of hot chocolate. Something that could soothe your worries, comfort you, warm your very soul from the ice tragedy and heartache tend to big on.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry in front of people, but with the way he was looking at you, it was hard to keep the tears from slipping.

“You loved him, Y/N. Why is it so hard for you to see that?”

“I didn’t - I wasn’t in love with him, Sam.” You argued, wiping your cheeks aggressively and turning, crossing your arms defensively.

“What do you call it then?”

It was a rhetorical question, Sam copying your movements and sitting straight to watch for Bucky coming out. A rhetorical question that you didn’t know the answer to. Because you weren’t in love with Steve. No. Maybe you had been, but somewhere along the way he passed your heart to Bucky. So why did it hurt so bad?

You refused to dwell on it anymore, clearing your throat and dabbing at your eyes one more time before changing the topic. “Why are we in Baltimore?”

“Bucky wanted me to meet someone. Isaiah. You know him?” Sam turned back to you, his warm eyes shifting into something else. Suspicion? A bit of anger? Annoyance? You couldn’t tell.

“Isaiah? I don’t think I know any Isaiahs. And definitely not here. Why? Who is he?”

Sam shook his head, eyes darting around the lobby. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You nodded, although now your curiosity had peaked and you wondered who this guy was that made Sam so agitated. While you waited, you felt your eyes drooping and you let your head fall onto Sam’s shoulder, who chuckled.

“You’re still tired? You know you slept for, like, twelve hours, right?”

“I haven’t been sleeping much.”

Sam turned his head to kiss yours. “Y/N, I know you want to care for everyone, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” And with that, the subject dropped, Sam pulling out his phone while you rested your eyes.

It was another ten minutes or so before Sam’s name was called and the both of you stood up to greet the speaker. A woman, Dr. Raynor. Bucky’s infamous therapist.

And speaking of infamous. The moment you heard his voice, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it was just your brain malfunctioning. And then he was walking towards you, calling Bucky ‘Bucky’ like they were old pals and he was saving him from something terrible.

Your face scrunched up as Walker talked about stopping Bucky’s regular therapy sessions. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have him tied up-”

“Don’t call him an asset.” You snapped. “He’s a human being with needs, and therapy-”

“He’s a super soldier with skills that we need.” Walker cut in, making you scowl as he turned back to Raynor.

You scoffed in disbelief at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before he did, heading straight for Bucky, who lifted his right arm, wrapping it around your shoulders once you were close enough.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, closing your eyes and trying to relax in his hold, breathing him in.

“Are you? Should you be walking? What did-”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Really?”

“Promise.” You sighed out with a nod, squeezing him once more before pulling back as Raynor stepped forwards, ordering Bucky and Sam to do a session with her. You almost laughed when Sam tried refusing, a little chuckle actually leaving your lips when Bucky slumped, dragging his feet like a kid going to the principal’s office.

You followed, Bucky holding the door open for you. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Of course, doll.” He gave a small smile, before walking in after you, Sam letting out a, “hey!” when Bucky shut the door on him, making you roll your eyes. You let the corners of your mouth tick up slightly in amusement. Yes, they annoyed the hell out of you, but you had to admit it was pretty funny sometimes.

“I believe I asked for James and Sam, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“It’s Agent, actually, and I think I’m gonna sit in.”

Raynor narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think-”

“That wasn’t a request.” You threw her words to Sam back at her, making Sam smirk. You shot him a wink as she relented with a sigh. 

“Fine. Just as a spectator. Don't interrupt.”

You raise your hands in surrender, slipping around the table to stand in the corner as your fellas sank down into the seats across the table from her.

A small puff of laughter came from you at the lack of response when she asked one of them to start. She shot you a warning look over her shoulder, but you shrugged. You couldn’t help it; it was like all those times back in grade school when a teacher asked for a volunteer to read in a classroom full of rowdy kids and crickets followed.

Once she mentioned the next exercise was used for couples, you had to laugh, making both men shoot you begging pouts.

“Y/N.” Raynor glared at you, so you controlled yourself, gesturing for her to continue.

Her miracle question did work so well, neither of them cooperating well.

She didn’t even bother with you when you started cackling after she mentioned the “soul-gazing exercise” and Bucky thanked her, Sam commenting that he would like this one. You gave a teasing wolf-whistle when they got close, one of Bucky’s thighs between Sam’s and vice versa.

“Doll.” Bucky whined at you.

“Listen here, smartass-”

Raynor cleared her throat, cutting Sam off from finishing his statement towards you. You leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms with a smirk. After all the bickering and side taking they’ve put her through, letting you enjoy this was the least they could do, and they knew it.

Of course, this exercise didn’t work out either. A staring contest. Children. She was best friends with literal children.

But then something happened. Something you never thought would happen. Raynor asked Bucky why Sam aggravated him, and Bucky looked over to you, his eye growing sad in a way they only did when Steve was involved.

“Steve believed in you.” Bucky told him earnestly. “He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield? That is…that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing.  So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me.”

You heard his voice crack a little at the end as he slumped down in his seat, you jaw dropping slightly. You listened to the rest of the conversation, catching the way Sam grew irritated again, something that you didn’t previously think was possible, but was happening more and more now.

Why wasn’t Sam talking to you? Why was he holding all this in suddenly? And why…Bucky…he didn’t tell you that. Why didn’t he say anything? How could he ever feel…

But you knew how he could feel like that. Yes, Steve believed in him so much that he tore the Avengers apart for him…but he was the only one willing to do that for him. Yeah, you and Sam and Wanda and Clint, you all joined their side but, being honest, it wasn’t because you believed in Bucky. It was because you believed in Steve. Of course, it was different now. You believed in Bucky with your entire being, and you believed in Sam with your heart and soul, but…did either of them know that? Did they believe you when you told them? Or did you not tell them enough? This whole time you thought you were doing right by Steve - trying you damn hardest to watch out for them. But it obviously wasn’t enough. And that was on you, no matter what Sam said.

You read people. That’s what you’ve always done, that’s what you’d always do. It was the reason you earned your spot on the team. You read people and situations and could figure your way into their heads in a second. Years and years of undercover work taught you how to do that and how to protect yourself while doing so.

So why? How? How did you miss something this big? How did you miss the way Sam was holding onto something? Why did you ignore the vexation in his tone for the last couple weeks? How did you miss that Bucky was hurting that deeply? Why didn’t you do anything more for him?

You left the room before either of the boys, but you heard Sam standing up as you walked out the door.

You should’ve known you weren’t the only one holding things in. Of course they were. The difference is, you were supposed to be their rock, the thing they could hold onto to ground themselves, the shoulder for them to cry on, and the ear lent to them whenever they needed someone to listen. That was your job. It wasn’t their job. Not for you. Your rock - your shoulder, your ear - he left you. And you thought, after all he did for you, if you just returned the favor for his best friends, you’d…you dunno. You’d be closer to him, maybe.

But you couldn’t. Because you weren’t Steve Rogers. And you knew that from the start, but you had to try. You tried. And it wasn’t working. He made it seem so easy when he did it for you. Clearly you didn’t give him enough credit for dealing with all your shit on top of his own.

“Doll.” You didn’t stop walking, needing to get outside for some fresh air. “Doll, hold on. Wait a minute.”

He grabbed your arm as you made it outside, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t tell me.” You spoke quietly, your voice fragile as you stared at him, confusion and hurt in your eyes. Were you really that bad at doing your job? Did you really already fail him? He asked you to do one thing…

“I didn’t…I didn’t want you to deal with my problems.” You opened your mouth, but he shook his head, holding your face between his hands. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know something’s going on with you. You’re good at hiding your nightmares at night, but I’m better. You’re jumpier than usual. Quieter. Every time Wanda’s brought up, you turn away. And the other day? On the truck? You froze. I was watching, doll. It was just a second, but you froze. You never freeze.”

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Buck-”

He frowned, tilting his head. “Not my job? Aren’t we friends? Isn’t that what friends do? Or am I just a job to you? I know you promised him to look after me. Is that all I am to you? A responsibility?”

You shook your head vigorously, holding onto his wrists. “No. No, Bucky, I just-”

“Do you think he was wrong about me?”

Salty diamonds ran down your cheeks as you clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. “No.”

“Did you ever believe in me? Did you ever care or was it all just because Steve? Is Steve the only reason you tolerate me?”

“Don’t say that. God, please don’t say that.” You begged quietly, meeting his gaze again. Every beautiful detail was laced with devastation, eyes imploring her to make him feel better. “Of course I believe in you. I have since Wakanda, you know that. Yes, okay, maybe Steve is why I helped you at first, but-but…I care about you, James. So much so that it hurts sometimes. He wasn’t wrong about you. Or Sammy. You both mean so much to me. Okay?”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed thickly, nodding slightly. You both simultaneously moved to get closer, him pulling you while you stepped into his chest, arms around his waist. His arms were tight around your shoulder, holding you just as firm as the kiss he planted on your forehead.

Sam came out, planting himself besides you as you pulled away, Bucky wiping your eyes. “I feel better.” He huffed out sarcastically, making you smack him in the arm. “Ow! Yeesh. Women these days.”

The sudden siren of one of the parked police cars made the three of you look over, spotting Walker and Hoskins. You groaned. “Did he see that?”

“Hey,” Bucky caught your jaw between his fingers, shaking his head. “Who cares? It’s between us and us only. Right?” You nodded, making him kiss your forehead again, a whisper of “attagirl” against your skin. You hadn’t heard that from him in a while.

“Gentlemen!” Walker waved them over, nodding at you. “And lady.” The three of you reluctantly walked over, Bucky going to lean on the police car Walker and Hoskins were near and you hopped up to sit on the hood of the police car across from them, Sam besides you.

You got information from Walker, who was once again trying to get you to work with him, but Sam summed it up nicely, explaining that the three of you didn’t have to follow the rules he did. You started to leave, Bucky tucking you under his arms once you slid off the car, when Walker stopped you once more.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”

You grumbled under your breath as the faker and his lapdog walked off. “I’m gonna kill him.” You vowed as the three of you started in the other direction. “I swear to God, I’m gonna rip that shield off his back and use it to beat him in that stupid face of his-”

“Down, girl.” Sam jested, flicking your ear. “We need a game plan. What’re we thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed as Bucky piped up, talking about the Isaiah character - who you still didn’t know - before HYDRA entered the equation.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, tugging his arm to make him stop once he mentioned Siberia. “Do you remember Siberia? Because if you’re actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, we remember Siberia very differently.”

“He’s our best bet-”

“So you’re just going to go sit in a room with this guy?”

Bucky scrunched up his nose. “Ye-yes…”

A beat of silence passed before Sam gave his stamp of approval, but you still disagreed. “There’s no way this’ll end well and I refuse to let you-”

You found your face between Bucky’s hands again. You really wished he’d stop doing that and just ask for your attention. You didn’t mean that, of course. You’d be held by him every second of every day if you could. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”

You licked your lips, looking around the darkened street. This was not a good idea. A bad plan - a terrible plan, really - but, unfortunately, it was the only one you had. “Dammit. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.” You finally sighed, running a hand through your hair after Bucky let go of you, his eyebrow quirking.

“Is that a yes?”

Sam nodded. “We’re gonna go see Zemo.”

You tugged Bucky’s hand when he nodded back and went to walk after Sam, who started walking around the corner, making him stop. “And yes. I do trust you. With everything I have, Buckaroo.”

[princessozera]

Therapist MC

Anon request:  What if MC was a professional therapist and tried to get the brothers to open up and get their problems off their chest, because let's be honest, they all need therapy from bottling up their feelings for so long.

A/N: Tiny bit of angst

GN!MC (they/them, 3rd ppov)

Word count: 2.7k

"It's not really manipulating if it's for their own good... right?"

It's not really manipulation at all, but MC feels guilty none the less. Everyone in the house of lamentation needed to talk things out, and while a whole family session would probably help IN THEORY, MC is both physically and mentally not strong enough to handle that kind of showdown. Quite frankly, no human is.

There's an argument to be made that some of their issues tie in with their sin and that makes it impossible to break out of bad habits, but that's not MC's goal. They aren't trying to fix everything, or change them, they only want to help them heal a little.

None of them would ever own up to needing therapy anyways, so MC has to divide and conquer. It's a good thing the brothers are creatures of habit and routine. And even better that MC's always had a deep interest in pavlovian conditioning.

Lucifer

Being the eldest and strongest of 7- not to mention the right hand man to a prince- undeniably comes with heavy burdens that few can relate to.

Being the avatar of pride did nothing to help this, Lucifer refused to rely on others even with his emotions and burdens. After all, the last time he'd been so open and vulnerable, he'd been forced into servitude with a pact he still yields to in this day and age.

As if the gray hairs weren't worrisome enough, MC doesn't miss the contemplative staring into the distance, the long periods of isolation and exhaustion working endlessly day in and out- Lucifer almost single handedly carries the RAD student body and there's little to show for his work. MC tries to sit with him when they can, cracking little jokes, learning Lucifer's favorite snacks to bring him on particularly busy days, hoping their presence at least can provide some comfort.

MC tries to take some of the load off his shoulders, offering to summarize the less important paperwork and help with filing, trying to get him to relax enough so he can feel comfortable enough to ramble about his stress- anything to get it off his chest. Lucifer clearly see's through their efforts and insists that being in their company is help enough.

MC isn't discouraged, they knew he wouldn't give in so easily, so instead they learn to realize when he had a smaller workload or was starting to reach a peak level of stress, and prepared a routine of demonus and music to get him to trust them.

MC wants to be able to have intimate moments like this with him in the future, without it necessarily starting a dump session or always bringing up bad feelings- that would push Lucifer away more than anything else. So they pick very specific drinks and even buy a brand new record for them to listen to together during these little talks. They also make a point to always mark a turning point in the conversation with a few key phrases ("You seem to be-", "Have you been getting enough rest-").

It takes a few repeated nights like this before Lucifer can really start to open up and realize that these moments will always be confidential, and most importantly he will be safe with MC. They fall into a pattern- a lull in the work, an offering of wine. Dim lights, and background music, MC carries the conversation until Lucifer is relaxed enough to join in. A few lines from him, a few questions from MC, and soon Lucifer is leaning on their shoulder, or has them placed against his chest as he talks to his hearts content.

It's not always sad or dark topics, sometimes Lucifer just wants to hear MC's opinions on things, or pose silly questions that get him weird looks from others. Sometimes those questions hide darker meanings, so MC makes sure to guide the conversation carefully and keep an eye on the amount of demonus Lucifer drinks during a session.

Lucifer can't handle personal talks like this as well as MC, but that's to be expected, they are trained after all. So instead he shows he cares with acts of service; taking over chores, inviting them to lunch, offering to help with any problems they might encounter.

MC makes it clear that Lucifer can come speak to them whenever and continues to stop by when they can spare the time, for who will care for the care giver?

Mammon

No matter how close of friends Mammon and MC become, there are some things he just refuses to talk about, and they're often the things that need to be said the most.

He's been the distraction, the emotional punching bag of the family and it didn't take a trained therapist to see it or worry about the damage it was doing to him, demon psychology be damned.

MC tries to broach the topic with him one day, and quickly learns that he's a deflector. Mammon changed the topic immediately, and every time after that when MC tries to gently push him to talk about it. But Mammon hadn't reacted hostile to the questioning, so MC decided to let him come talk to them on his own terms.

It happened after a night of drinking- liquid courage and all that.

While he'd never put a label to it or talk to his brothers about it, Mammon is the most open about talking with MC about these things. He'll almost always be the one to come to MC first, kicking it off with a quick "Hey, could we talk later?" instead of his usual "Are you busy right now?" or "Where are you, we're going out!".

Mammon likes to pretend it isn't happening, like it's any old thing. He'll ask to have a movie playing in the background that neither is watching. He'll play with MC's hand, their hair, poking fun at their clothes between serious statements. But the one thing he always refuses to let MC see him crying. So instead MC offers an alternative- they will turn around and he'll cry into their back, and oddly enough it works for them. He's comforted by them and their presence, without the shame he feels at being vulnerable like this when he knows his brothers would never let him hear the end of it.

Mammon also makes it a point to be around if MC ever needs to talk. He wants them to know they can trust him too, so if he ever thinks they're holding something back from him, he'll try to take them out on a fun day to see if they'll be willing to talk afterwards.

Levi

MC's methods with Levi are indirect. Considering that asking him regular questions about love and "normie stuff" send him into a tangent of grumbles, it's not hard to imagine Levi shutting down almost immediately if MC were to try to talk about his self depreciation in any sort of seriousness.

So instead, MC speaks to him in the language of video games and manga.

He'll be in the middle of an intense gaming session when an innocent question is posed. What does he like about his favorite characters? Why are they so amazing? MC insists it's okay if he's mentioned it a hundred times before, they want to hear it again. And Levi's great at multitasking, so he'll go into his passionate speeches about the great Henry and the undefeatable Ruri chan. He feels silly at the bit of pride he feels when MC tells him that he has some of the same characteristics he praises in these characters, but Levi thinks they must be bluffing, so he tries to change the topic around on them.

MC also asks about Levi's least favorite characters, and when he starts to bash and berate them can't help but pose another "random thought"; did Levi see a bit of himself reflected in them? Is that why he hated them?

If Levi stops playing his games entirely to stare at MC, they reassure him that it was simply a hypothetical; you don't really need a reason to hate a character, so they meant no harm in that question. MC points out characters they hated for that reason- seeing the worst of themselves reflected- to try to ease Levi's concern, and so he'll resume gaming and he's finally more open to a conversation.

It's all video game and manga characters, comparing each other and their traits, good and bad to keep it even.

Satan

"If any of my co workers saw me do this, I'd get fined and my license suspended immediately."

Satan was a tricky case, he was more analytical of the media he consumed, so MC couldn't pull the same trick as with Levi. There was also the possibility that if he figured out what MC was trying to do, he'd start to ignore them altogether, or in an extreme case, threaten them. So what did MC decide to do?

Get him a drink.

Fine, 3 or 4 may be more than "a drink" but the gentleman brother had few other vices MC could use to their benefit. Similar to Lucifer, MC picks a very specific drink to have Satan associate with trust and opening up, and works very had to set the atmosphere just right for Satan to want to talk about his doubts and fears.

It was a balancing act at first, the first time was too many drinks and Satan had been inconsolable about the cat he hadn't seen in a week. The next time, he hadn't been relaxed enough and when the topic switched to Lucifer and his birth, he'd became so enraged that he smashed the bottle they had been drinking from. He hadn't flown into a blind rage, but it had been enough for MC to decide to leave that topic after a longer build up of trust.

These talks with Satan often ended up with Satan laying across MC's lap as he let the weight of the devildom crush the words out of him- disjointed, ugly, messy, and more than a touch acidic. Once MC had posed a question or topic, Satan ran with it until the exhaustion from thousands of years of pent up anger started to catch up to him.

MC never let him fall asleep like this though, always bringing conversation back to lighter topics before he drifted off to sleep. They'd run a hand through his hair and assure him that he was not just a by product of Lucifer, or an accumulation of his sin. Satan was his own demon, and he wasn't defined by the actions of those before him.

Satan often didn't remember the contents of the conversation the next day, only feeling a weight off his shoulders and his steps a little lighter. He always made sure to take MC out to lunch for 'inconveniencing' them the night before, but thanks them for keeping him company when he was less than amicable. Satan goes out of his way to set up similar sessions for MC, thinking that destressing with conversation must be one of the ways they show affection, so he wanted to show he was paying attention to their 'love language'.

Asmo

Working with Asmo is a trade off and a battle of wits.

He's not stupid, the first time MC tried to push him into sensitive territory during one of their spa nights, he called them out on it. Asmo's also smart enough to know that MC wouldn't just drop it because he asked, so he agrees to their little therapy sessions, on his terms.

The sessions were to be held at most, once every 2 weeks, and MC had to let Asmo pamper them while they talked. Skin care, nails, hair, full 9 yards or it was a no go.

While Asmo never turned down a chance to spend quality time with MC, showing off his multiple talents, there was another purpose to the self care routine. Asmo planned to carefully manipulate the version of himself he shows MC, the perfect role of vulnerable and trusting, to make them believe they were leading the therapy sessions without actually revealing too much about himself. Can't have them seeing that ugly side of him after all.

But Asmo's met his match in MC. They came prepared with their own little turn around, letting Asmo believe he was leading them by the nose but every so often MC would ask him for advice and opinions, theoretically, "asking for a friend."

MC was careful in wording the situation for each "friend" to get a feel for Asmodeus true nature, and if they suspected that he was catching on, they'd make the next question a little more personal so he'd believe the "friend" he was asking about was really themselves.

It's a good thing that DDDs came password protected because trying to stay 3 steps ahead of Asmo's lead took some careful planning and there was an entire subfolder dedicated to MC's 'game plan'.

Beel

MC comes to Beel directly, explaining their line of work and if he'd ever want to speak with them about how he's doing and about his everyday life. Beel's a little confused, he doesn't think anything was wrong per se, but he was always down to spend more time alone with MC so he would entertain these little talks they suggested.

Beel was surprised when MC invited him to the gym late one night for their first "therapy visit". The gym was abandoned, but he'd missed his workout earlier in the day so it all worked out.

While MC stretched and did light workouts near him, Beel went about his usual routine. He didn't understand how this would be considered a therapy, but working out did always make him feel better, so he answered any random question that MC asked him.

MC asked about his brothers, why he loved the food he loved. Silly little things, but he indulged them.

What had he felt about Belphie being gone? Was he still mad at Lucifer for lying?

These questions were heavier than the weights he was bench pressing, and for a second, Beel lost his grip and was pinned under the bar for the first time in his life. He caught his breath quickly, and managed to lift the weights, unsure if MC had caught his slip. He holds them up for a moment before continuing his set as usual, mulling over their questions.

Working out helps him think through his feelings and gives him an excuse to pause before answer MC's questions, but he never tried to hide anything from them.

MC leads the first few months of workout therapy, working through the problems they knew most about, and after that Beel took the lead, inviting them out to the gym late at night when he needed to talk, if MC was down for it of course.

Belphie

Another deflector. Conversations that could venture into sensitive topics weren't rare with Belphegor, far from it in fact. So by now MC's noticed his usual patterns. His brothers, his memories, pillows, astronomy. Belphegor will talk about anything that isn't actually about himself.

MC takes a similar approach as to the one with Leviathan, pulling Belphie into conversations with astrology and constellations. MC tells him stories associated with constellations, some ringing a little too familiar to moments from Belphie's life, but he didn't know about human mythology so he couldn't call them out on it.

Belphegor has some inkling of what MC is trying to do, but he's seen the good it's done for Beel so tries to humor the idea for a bit. He starts off in control, a bit distant and cold in his critique of the myths MC told him, but as the night drags on, anger colors his tone.

Betrayal, humiliation, the bitter taste of realizing you were wrong.

Belphegor doesn't know when he switched from 3rd person to first, but he's shocked to hear his own voice fume over the way his brothers treated him when he first came back, how quickly everyone had tossed months of secrets away as if there weren't at least 4 treasons mixed in there.

Hypocrisy? Or just realizing there's a band aid on a nuclear reactor, well on it's way to imploding?

[goroufucker]

did you ever love me, scaramouche ?

—

authors notes: angst, porn with angst, unhappy ending, gn reader, dancing under the stars will truly show ones true emotions..

—

the blanket below you two was warm, you had made sure everything was perfect when your boss, the 6th fatui harbinger, finally let you take him out somewhere- you washed the blanket you two were sitting on in the darkness, only illuminated by the stars and moon, to make sure it was to his comfort.

you two had,, an interesting relationship. it wasn’t quite ‘special treatment’, it was his craving towards your body. he loved the way you quivered and moaned underneath him, he couldn’t get enough of how vulnerable you were. there was never an inch of romance between those sessions, it was always fantasy and letting loose stress.

even whenever he called you filthy names and degraded you down to your core while his dick practically rearranged your organs into a brand new shape, you always took it with a smile. you had always looked up to him, even while you were still a new recruit. you took everything he had to give for months.

from the position he was sitting, scaramouche’s eyes lit up gorgeously under the starlight, having removed his hat for extra comfort whilst he was laying on his back. he seemed, bored? perhaps he isn’t quite used to dates, he most likely never could’ve had time to. though you keep your thoughts in your own mind and do you best to just relax with him.

“what was the point of taking me here?” he asked coldly, his gaze going from the moon to you, his head tilted while his hair fell almost perfectly on his face. you gulped down some spit, trying to avoid fumbling over any words. “well,, this time of night is when the stars and full moon are in perfect view, it’s a gorgeous place to take someone you care about-“ you spoke, avoiding mumbling or stuttering over your own feelings.

scaramouche’s gaze went from you, back up to the stars. his mind was occupied by the bright light, “indeed- it is quite the beautiful time..” he mumbled. thinking for a moment before sitting up, keeping a steady hand on the blanket and using it to stand up. “scara? what’s wrong?” you said, pushing your knees closer to your body.

“you said it’s a beautiful place to take someone, yet we aren’t doing anything”, scaramouche turned his head, followed by his body. “it would be a shame if we wasted the night away with idle chatter, so stand up.” he ordered, reaching his hand out, you could notice a faint pink on his cheeks- though with the shadows of the night, it was difficult to fully see.

“.. dance with me.”

the words left his mouth, you could only stare. he.. wants to dance with you? the number 6 of the fatui harbingers,, wants to dance. of course, you weren’t gonna wait to see what he’d do if you took too long. you took his hand, him helping you stand up and bringing you close to him. he took your freehand and put it on his shoulder, the hand he used to pick you up interlocked with yours. with his freehand on your waist, he pulled you in.

the soft nights breeze mixed with the illuminated sky left an indescribable feeling as you two started to move, there was no music, not even the faint sound of a lyre in the distance. you needed no music, you only needed to stare into his eyes to hear the sweet melody in your mind. scaramouche never grinned back at you, though he reciprocated the eye contact as he spun you away from him.

pulling you back in, he held your back and dipped you down. you gasped, not expecting it. his face crept closer, gently dragging his bottom lip up your neck and stopping at your jawline. then pulling you back up, your noses were almost touching as you continued to dance. your heart was thumping, as if it was about to fall and sink right down into your stomach. the grip on his shoulder tightened as you two spun.

it seemed like the nights light had become blurry, as if the stars were falling and it’s dust blew into your eyes. the tension of it all overtook your body, so much so that you didn’t even notice him leaning in. scaramouche’s lips interrupted your cloudy haze, it took force not to widen your eyes. he had never, willingly, kissed you before. scaramouche always said that you should never kiss him. you never knew why, though it hurt.

euphoria filled the night as you greedily kissed him back, filling up every bit of space between you two. it was quick though, he pulled away and took your hand, spinning you away from him again. letting go of your hand as you spun, taking a step back. you stumbled a bit, not wanting to fall and embarrass yourself.

you two stared at eachother from a distance, your eyelashes flickered while you blinked, watching him clear his throat. he seemed,, embarrassed? no, maybe uneasy.. you couldn’t get a read from his eyes. but he stared so longingly at you, you couldn’t help but be flustered. this is the most attention he’s ever truly given, being so caught up in fatui work, only spending some ‘quality time’ with you by letting the stress out his body through your body.

you almost spoke, until he finally interrupted you. your mind was still fixated in a haze, his hair was slightly messy from laying down and wearing his hat, his cheeks were flushed from how close you two where, his eyes half lidded made your body tingle and shiver. realization hit.

“i want to fuck you under the stars.”

you were in love with him.

within seconds, you ran right to him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a kiss. he gripped onto you tightly and kissed back, inhaling sharply through his nose. the passion you felt at that moment drove you insane, as if you two were finally letting loose everything you had stuck inside. it was aggressive when he picked you up and put you right down onto the blanket.

wasting no time to rip off every article of clothing you had on, he wanted to see you and he wanted to see you now. you pushed away how overwhelmed you were with how fast this was going and tried to melt into the moment, listening to scara’s breathing once he had finally gotten you naked. he was staring, his hands gripped the blanket at the sides of your shoulders. embarrassment filled your mind, wanting to close your eyes to avoid his gaze- but if you were to, you’d miss everything.

the moonlight seemed to awake something within him, you realized that when he started doing things he never did before. usually it was you who gave the oral, but scara was quick to pull your hips up and dip his face right into your sex. the feeling had you tilting to ur head back, gasping and moaning at each quiver of pleasure that went up your stomach. all you could hear were the suckling sounds of scaramouche devouring you, as if he was trying to get every single drop.

the intensity of it all plus a newer feeling had you cumming faster then you normally would, already arching your back as you felt your orgasm right at its peak, just barely holding on. he was able to recognize whenever you were about to cum, due to experience. though he didn’t stop and make you beg like he would before, he went in deeper and let you have it right there. the sight of the stars filled your vision, staring into the sky as you let out a loud whimper orgasmed, not even realizing you were grinding into his mouth while you road out your high.

scaramouche pulled away in the dead middle of you riding it out, licking off any leftovers that could’ve been on his lips- he stared at your disheveled state. though he didn’t grin, he never smirked like he always did. he was silent, taking in your body and attempting to cherish it. scara pushed up and sat on his knees, unzipping his shorts and pulling them down enough to get his cock out, as well as taking of some accessories to be able to pull his shirt up enough to see his stomach.

you watched him, still panting from your orgasm. his shadow gloomed over you, his body covering the starlight from your reach. scaramouche went back to hovering over you, using a hand to adjust his junk to press right against your hole. “this… is it..” scara panted, looking into your eyes for a second. “w-what..?” you ask, confused on what he meant. though when he didn’t talk afterwards, you assume it was just sexual babble- which he did quite often.

you pushed it out of your mind quickly, feeling the tip of his cock start to press into your hole. you let out a sigh while he slowly buried his dick into you- he went until his lower stomach touched your skin, taking up any available space. your hands went from the blanket to his forearms, you wanted to feel as much of him as possible right now. he let you touch him as he started to move his hips, grinding them into you so his dick would reach the deepest parts of you.

sex was always pleasurable with him, even if it was something you weren’t too sure of trying out, scara always made it euphoric. so of course, you moaned at the pangs of pleasure that shot up your body. the slow movements he was doing were quite rare, he only was this gentle the first ever time you two had sex. the gentleness of course, didn’t last very long, as scara got aggravated- letting out a scoff before thrusting his hips at the speed he desired.

“Mm.. fuck..” he mumbled, gripping onto your hips, gently digging his nails into your skin. he always did that when he wanted you to squeeze on his cock, so you did just that. “yeah.. just like that” scaramouch panted, leaning over and moving his mouth to your neck. he bit down hard, harder then he’s ever bit before- or maybe your sensitivity to his touch right now has made it seem so aggressive.

hearing the twinges in his voice as you admired him, making sure to keep your voice clear for him to hear, you recognized him getting close to his release. you took this advantage to wrap your body around his, he had never gone raw with you like this before, he always used a condom no matter what unless it was oral. you wanted him to cum inside you, to end this euphoric night, you wanted to leave with a bit of him still with you.

scaramouche was too caught up in his high to truly care about how close you were, he fixed his posture while continuing to keep a harsh grip on your hips. the view you had was of his stomach and above, though he was thin, scara was very well built. you put your hands back on his forearms, trying to help him focus on his orgasm.

with a few more messy, aggressive thrusts, he dipped his head back as he came right into you. holding back a cry, he clenched his teeth and let out a strained groan. all you could do was admire him, his thrusting slowing down and ultimately stopping, his head dipping forewords again before locking eyes with you, the sweat dripping down his forehead. you didn’t even care that you only came once, your want to cum just completely disappeared.

before you could say anything to him, his eyes unlocked with yours and he quickly pulled his dick out of you, hearing a gentle pop and feeling his cum leak out. scaramouche shuffled around, pulling his pants back up and putting on any accessories he took off. with shaky arms, you pushed up and sat on the blanket. “scara..? why are you getting dressed so quick?” you asked, glancing at your own clothes that were scattered around the grass.

he didn’t answer you, not even a small noise to indicate he heard you. placing his hat ontop of his head, he finally turned to face you. “i told you, this is it.” scaramouche spoke, pulling the blanket you two had fucked on and wrapped it around your exposed body. “.. wait, you can’t mean that-“ you stare at him in shock, yet he doesn’t answer you again. getting on one knee, he covers your eyes with his right hand, catching you by surprise by kissing your lips one last time.

scaramouche pulled his hand away as he got up and turned away from you, walking away ever so slowly as the sun began to rise. you were left in shock, was that it? was this the end of you and his meetups? the wind blew ever so gently, your hair flowing along with each gust. his figure slowly disappeared into the sunlight, as if it had gobbled him up.

did the stars lie to you, you assumed so. as the tears spilled down your face, you knew why, and with a gentle whisper, you could only ask…

“did you love me back?”

[bangtan-sinnamons]

On Cloud Mine (M)

⤞ Paring: Alpha werewolf!Taehyung x Omega werewolf!reader

⤞ Summary: Your fuck buddy, Taehyung, heat was coming to an end and you decide to leave him to eat. But trouble awaits for you when you come home smelling like another alpha.

⤞ Genre: Fuck buddies to lovers, Werewolf Smut, Angst, Fluff

⤞Warning: Possessive acts, LOTS of misunderstanding, slightly toxic relationship, fingering, cum play, degradation, werewolf sex/heat, creampie, unprotected sex, Swear words, Taehyung dom, reader submissive, hickeys

⤞ Word count:  3586

（*/∇＼*）ᴴᵉʰᵉ

“Omega, don’t pull away...not yet,” Taehyung groans at the lost of your body’s warmth pressed up against him. “I’m still in my rut,” His hand grips tighter on your waist, hard enough to leave crescent nail marks.

“Well I want to eat....the food stash in your room is gone,” you clasp your hand over his, in attempt to yank his strong arms that were now firmly wrapped around your waist. “I‘ll be back soon,” you tried again, but this time with a softer tone.

Taehyung was nearing the end of his heat, so it shouldn’t be a problem leaving him alone for a bit. It’s not like you were his mate or anything. Just sex buddies, nothing more, just like how he wants.

But sometimes in moments like these, where he looks as if he had never experienced being alone before, it made you feel special. Almost as if he WAS your mate.

“Omega. Wait,” he commands.

You freeze, your inner she-wolf unconsciously warns you to obey him. You tried to search for what he wants behind the strands of hair blocking his eyes.

“If you are hungry. Come suck me off,” he abruptly says. A smirk forming, when he notice your doe eyes looking down at him. Looking at him like a deer in headlights. Alert, and cute.

You glared at him.

“Taehyung. I’m leaving your ass to go get some food,” you flicked his forehead. You hated when you were swayed into submission, yet he finds it hilarious.

You can’t believe you let your thoughts linger for more than a second about him being your mate. He was definitely in the stay away category, just another horny alpha, that you perhaps have feelings for.

He finally lets you go, rolling over to your side of the bed. “Fine, but don’t leave the house,”

You hummed in response. Heading to the pile of discarded clothes.

“Do you know where my bra went?” You asked as you shuffle around the room naked, your ass on full display for the horny man in the bed. If he stared hard enough, he could see the glistening cum that dared dripped onto your thigh. The sight brought encouragement, making him wish, he hastily slammed himself into you to keep the threatening cum from leaving you.

He wets his lips at the sight, but an offending sigh penetrates his ears. He looks at you, ears perking up in your direction. “What did you say?” He growls, not liking how you disrupted his thoughts.

“My bra. Where. Is. It,”

“Oh, it’s over here,” he sits up from the bed as he holds up your garment. A playful smile plastered on his face.

Ugh, what is he up to now. You rolled your eyes when he doesn’t throw it over to you, forcing you to come to him instead.

“I swear, you want me to starve to death,” you mumble, approaching him. You try to snag it away, but he holds it out of reach. “Give. Me. The damm thing,” you grunt.

He closed the remaining space between you. “Are you sure you wanna leave?” Taehyung whispers in your ear giving it a playful nip, “Just stay for a while longer,”

You had enough of this man and with a hard push, the both of you topple onto the bed with a plop. Giving you easier access to snatch your garment as fast as you can.

His eyes follows your remaining steps as you grumpily exited the room. With the final click of the door shutting, he buries his nose into your silky pillow. Snuggling against it, trying to get a whiff of your alluring scent from before. Once your aroma was mixed with his, he was influenced into a lustful frenzy.

He buckles into the bed imagining you on top of him, just like moments ago. Your appearance, your everything makes him go crazy. Your hair was slightly damp as if you came out of the shower, but he knows that it was really from your last heated session with him. And the fact that you were so aggressive, he loved it. He loved it more than he should have, cause he was the alpha not you.

“For fucks sake,” he groans, watching his once limp dick raging red again.

He looks at the door and was very tempted to go find you. He is sure you wouldn’t mind if he was fucking you as you eat. Actually, he finds that kinda hot. He looks pleased at himself for the great idea and he heads to the door.

—————-

On the other hand, you were face to face with an empty fridge, empty cabinets, literally empty everything. You sighed as you closed the last cabinet shut. Did he expect you to eat the crumbs? Even a mouse would be hungry living here.

For whatever reason, your heart and your growling stomach decided to leave the house without telling him. Too tired to hear the man nag at you, you head to the nearest convenient store.

The park you’re currently walking by serves as a great change of scenery and soon enough, you began to feel like yourself again. Your cheeks stuffed with food, and your demon stomach finally no longer growled. The calming night breeze drags your hair along and carries your mind along with it because you no longer kept track of the time.

You were just about to sit on a nearby bench before a pair of hands rested on your shoulder. With a flinch and a twist of your neck in search of the intruder of your so called personal bubble, you were pleasantly relieved to see it was just Hoseok.

“HOSEOK! YOU LITTLE...” One hand covered your stuffed mouth from spewing your food at him and the other hand smacking his shoulder. You swallow the remaining food left in your mouth before continuing to yell at him. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“My bad. My bad. Stop hitting me,” he laughs, his big fluffy ears twitching. “How come you’re here so late? Do you want me to take you home?”

“Oh, shit...” you cursed out loud. Taehyung! How could you forget about him. “Hoseok DON’T come near me anymore,” you backed away. Taehyung is overly sensitive with other people’s scent, especially during his ruts.

Last time during his rut, the scent of your older brother threw him off so badly, he made you shower until you were back to smelling like peaches and cream. And not only one shower, but three showers, despite being so uncontrollably horny. He was literally dripping in sweat, slipping swear words from his lips, and holding back every urge to fuck you senseless just because you smelled QOUTE on QOUTE Nasty.

Hoseok’s ears lay flat against the crown of his head at your abrupt action. “Sorry. Was I being too straightforward?” He questions.

Seeing those gravity drawn shoulder from the upbeat wolf, was a difficult sight to see. Almost as if you were betraying your friendship with a mere fuck buddy.

“No! No. It’s just that I’m helping Taehyung’s rut and I don’t want to trigger him with your scent!” You explained.

His eyes widen at the mention of Taehyung. Hoseok, also being a close friend of Taehyung, has witnessed his possessiveness of you. The wolf was always triggered when another scent was on you, even if it wasn’t during his rut. The growls, the glares, he sent, Hoseok was honestly surprised how you didn’t seem to notice the signs. The man was in love with you. Infatuated with your every being and simply using this fuck buddy thing as an excuse to get closer with you.

“Y/n, you should head back and take a quick shower too. Text me later, okay?” He suggested, the worry was evident on his face. And with a wave of your hand, you hurriedly jogged towards Taehyung’s apartment.

You fumbled with the spare key that Taehyung had lended you. Not out of nervousness, but from the sweat in your palms that you wiped off from jogging so fast.

You can’t believe you were out for about an hour. Either Taehyung was going to be fuming or sleeping, and you hope it’s the later option.

Okay. You breathed. Just go in and shower. Everything should be fine.

You creaked the door open, just small enough for you to peak inside, but instead you made straight eye contact with Taehyung’s glare.

Fine you were not.

You bit your lips, as you parted the door wider. The air filled with pheromones that screamed dominance and you can’t help, but stand still, waiting for his next command. While your eyes wandered about, avoiding his piercing looks. You closed the door, figuring out the words you should careful say to the wolf before you.

Taehyung leans back in his spot on the sofa. You can hear him crack his knuckles. A habit you noticed when he tries to calm himself down, but this time each crack felt vexing.

“Did you have a good time?" He probed bitterly, his lips pursed. Your sudden scent change only confirms his inner thoughts.

“What?”

How dare you act confused, when it was obvious of how guilty you looked. You can’t even look him in the eye for goodness sake. “Omega. Don’t make me repeat. I said, did you have a good time?”

“Look,” you rushed out. “I don’t know what you are trying to get at, but I went to eat and I met Hoseok on the way,” you admitted, not wanting to lie to the already raging wolf. “Nothing biggie. So let me shower real quick,”

You tried to dismiss yourself, but the words that flowed from your lips angered him even more. Without a moment of hesitation, a sickening smack rattled through the apartment. Of course he didn’t hit you, he could never hit you, but he did strike his hand on the sofa arm. The sound loud enough for you to stop in your tracks.

”Shower my ass,” he scoffed. “Omega did you really think you can fool me. You leave me ALONE during my rut to go fuck another ALPHA!”

“I-“

“Is Hoseok your mate or something? Why else would you have the need to leave me. You could have told me you were busy or some shit,” He interrupts, not wanting to hear your lame excuses. “Then I would have asked for another Omega!” He yells, currently blinded with rage.

Although most of his accusations were very off the charts, wrong. He was right about one thing. He could alway get another Omega that was better suited and that fact hurt you. You lowered your eyes to the floor again.

Your unresponsive reaction only makes him fume. Was what he was saying true?!No. It can’t be. He hasn’t even confessed yet. Every being of him is saying that you were his mate. How could it be.

He struts towards you. Instinctively your eyes shot up to meet his. Seeing his hand raised up, made you flinch. Instead of what you thought would be the worse pain inflicted on you, it was just a caress of your hair.

He raised a brow when he came into contact with the unexpected sweat he felt from your hair. He sniffs his hand and emits a low menacing growl. Almost as if he was warning you for what was about to come. “Look at you! You are fucking wet. Is your cunt filled with his cum too? Are you just as wet down here?” He pressed his hand on your clothed pussy, trying to feel your lies out, and you let out a soft whimper.

Despite Taehyung believing he had some claim over you, he was painfully reminded that he didn't. He was probably a nobody compared to Hoseok. You never spared a glance at him, so why would you now. That’s why he decided to claim you, the only way he knew how to.

He roughly manhandles your shirt to the side and hurriedly press his lips onto your collarbone. Almost desperately to feel your warmth mingled with his once more. You render speechless as you feel his teeth brush over your collarbone. His other hand is on your back, pulling you closer to him. And he laps at your neck until he felt satisfied at how it glistened in the dimly lit room before he sucks on your soft skin. He does that for a few seconds before his lips reached your shoulder.

He gagged at the smell. It reeked of a scent that wasn’t him or you. It was like someone had stolen his territory, and now he had to claim it back. You gasp at the sudden bite he left on you shoulder.

“TAEHYUNG!” You yelped when he doesn’t just stop there. He continues to leave more bites along your shoulder and neck until you could feel each spot pulsing.

“Now you speak?” He mumbles between each bite and peck he leaves on you. If he can’t have your heart he will at least have your body marked for others to see. And if he was lucky enough, they would think you were already taken. He smiles at the thought.

“Tae-“ you groaned. “I didn’t do anything... I swear!” He had asked you to be exclusive fuck buddies, so maybe that’s why he is so upset with the thought of someone else having you.

He stops biting you to take a good look at your expression. “Omega. Why do you need to take a shower then?” His face was now only inches away. “What are you hiding in that pussy of yours?” He seethes.

“Please...” you uttered, feeling his breath warm your skin. You honestly don’t know what you were begging for. Were you trying to get him to believe you or were you getting horny with how possessive he looked. Not to miss the fact that he was all so attractive already.

“Fuck it,” he snarls, growing highly impatient. If you couldn’t answer him properly, he was going to check it himself.

He gets hold of your body and carries you back to his room. Throwing you on top of the bed. Taehyung wastes no time as he aggressively pulls you forward to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs open as wide as they can go. “Shit you’re wet.”

He pulls the offending skirt and panties away from you. With his fingers, he spread your pussy lips open, showing yourself all to him. Pulsing and soaked. The smell hitting him straight in the face.

You press your elbows against the bed to leverage yourself up. “Alpha. I didn’t do it with Hoseok,”

“Explain why you are so fucking wet then! You slut!” He pinches your nub and you wither below him once more.

“You!” Your words barely audible as you cried from pleasure. “Taehyung you are the only one that can make me wet like this!”

With a glance he knows no one had fucked you yet, but your words felt so reassuring to hear. He smirks and continues on, but this time with confidence. Taehyung had erase all niggling doubts in his mind about Hoseok and your relationship.

You practically purr when Taehyung runs his index finger down your wet slit, feeling how wet you were because of him before he sinks it into your pussy. He takes his time, letting you feel him run his finger against your walls as you twitch trying to suck his fingers in. He caves in when he see your hungry pussy asking for it. He slowly pumps it in and out of you.

“Yes!” You mewled under his touch . You harshly bit your lip as you felt him slip another finger into you. “Don’t stop!”

Immediately you feel him withdraw his fingers. His hand slick with your wetness as he hovers it in front of your face. You could taste it on your lips from simply smelling it. And you couldn't help but open your mouth obediently, expecting him to shove his fingers in.

“Aren’t you greedy?” He taps your nose, smearing your juices. Your confused face makes him chuckle as he places his lips on your nose kissing and licking it up.

Your checks flamed “I-I...”

“This,” he holds up the finger that was still wet with your juices. “Is mine. You can get what’s yours in a bit. Be patient,” he placed his finger on his lower lip, swiping the pad of his finger onto his tongue before closing his mouth to suck on your juices.

You let out a groan watching the erotic sight right before your eyes.

His hand slowly draws away from his mouth, a string of saliva still coating his index finger. He sighed softly, the bulge in his pants visibly twitching as it slowly grew more needy. He had truly tasted heaven.

You were so eager for his cock. That you begin to slip your hand to your clit, hoping to get some relief and of course Taehyung caught you seconds before you reached your burning core. “Taehyung put it in already,” you begged. “Please,”

Fuck, he had no patience left to think, and instead decided to spur into action especially when he wanted to tease you a bit more. He placed his hands at the back of your knees to push your legs up, his ears peeking up, focusing on how pathetic you sound at your new angle.

’My precious little cunt, made to take my cock,’’ He beams, tugging his boxer down to position himself in his favorite little hole. His cock stayed still, with the occasional rubbing against you. The cock that you know so well, somehow still made you breathless.

You squirmed around him for more friction. “Alpha. I beg. I beg,” you whimper when he doesn’t immediately fills you up with his girth.

He bares his teeth and grips onto your hips. You were ready and he knows it.

In a second, he was half way in, and the next, he had buried himself inside of you to the hilt. It was a swift snap of his hips, that ended with you howling, but becomes muffles when he placed his lips over yours.

He continues to buckle into you. Feeling you stretch out and tighten at the same time. “Ughh you’re so hot,” he groans. “Your pussy was made for me, just for me,”

The rigor force and accuracy of his cock pushing into you and abusing your sweet spot while he begins to slip a hand under your shirt, sent you delirious. You grip the bedsheets tighter with every motion and touch. “More! Taehyung more,”

The way your breast bounced with every thrust made him lifts your shirt up to get a better view of your perky red nubs, before attaching his lips. God, he really loved how you tastes. How hot your skin becomes at the simple touch, and how you made him into the horny mess he is now.

You moaned, desperately wanting to feel him even more. He was so damm perfect. The way he was fucking and biting you, made you only love him more. You try to wrap your legs around his torso, no longer caring that you were so in love with your fuck buddy. That your inner she wolf was begging you to get marked by this man.

“Shit, I need to hear you make that sound again,” Taehyung growls in your ear, thrusting in you even harder. One of his hand going back to tug at your nub.

His dick runs at his own pace, a pace that you loved, yet you couldn’t catch up with and you curse, moaning his name as he continues to push in and out of you. Your vision is taken, when you feel the knot in your stomach.

“Tae-ah, so close. Cum with me,”

“Gonna come on my cock, hmm?” He pistons into you.

“Yes...” you whimper, wrapping your arm around his neck.

His words are a jumbled mess as you clench down around him, feeling your own orgasm reach its highest point.

You jut your hips as you come undone around him. Your legs losing your grip around his waist. And he slams harder into you, causing him to plunge deeper inside your already sensitive pussy. That does it for Taehyung.

He lets out a cry before he lets his cum shoot thick ropes into you. “Fuck. I love you, Y/n, my mate,” You freeze at hearing such word. You never heard such intimate words comming from him. Never. Ever.

Your heart hammered in your chest at Taehyung's sudden confession. A weight was suddenly lifted off your shoulders. "You , you love m-me?" You croaked out.

“More than anything,” he groans. Nestling his cock inside you. Making sure he doesn’t let any of your mixed juices out of your core. Making sure you are bred well. Making sure you won’t ever run away again.

“I love you too,” you say at the heat of the moment and his cock still buried deep within you. Wait. Isn’t this too weird? “This is some heat talk, isn’t it?” You questioned even though you really hope he denied it, and you sighed in relief when he did.

“No! I really love you!” You let out a giggle at his sudden seriousness.

“Don’t give me false hope. If you don’t really like me then say it now” he whines.

“I love you too. So stay”

[etherealeeknow]

vocal lesson

• rated m for mature, slight angst

• pairing: vocal coach!seungmin x fem!reader

• wc: 2.3k (confession: writing long fics isn’t my forte)

• tw: underlying toxic relationship, masturbation (m), grinding, groping, unprotected vaginal sex, explicit language, creampie- i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: i have a love hate relationship with this fic. i have a few goals i’d like to achieve from this fic and whether or not i’ll succeed is based on your feedbacks 🥺 so please don’t hesitate to drop them! also, enjoy!

• tag list: @es-kay-zee @formidxble @bobateastay @vogueinnie @sailorhyunjinz // leave a comment, dm, or an ask to be tagged! thank you ♡

���

seungmin despises the way his heart dropped when he sees your name flashing on his phone screen instead of you flashing upon his eyes. by this time, he’s fully aware that a chatty girl like you isn’t the type to text. in fact, you only do it on one occasion, which is when you’d like to cancel the class. just like what he has expected, the text says you won’t be able to make it that day and that you’re sorry; but he knows you’re not sorry. he knows you’re doing this on purpose—to torture him—and it’s working perfectly.

honestly, the suffocating pain in his chest isn’t because he has been losing sleep, tossing and turning in his king size bed for hours over the thought of you being all dolled up in the baby blue dress he has gifted you; neither is it because he missed his favorite orchestra playback this morning just so he could find the most perfect white shirt out of his collection of other white shirts just so he can appear pleasant for you, but because you’ve been cancelling the lesson for three times in a row. if your mother ever finds out about this, she would definitely fire him. to prevent that from happening, seungmin has been silencing your maids with credits, but he knows too well they’d soon go for more if you keep this up. 

fiddling with the handkerchief that you had purposely left for him a few weeks back, seungmin gloomily shoves it into his pocket before dragging himself to the grand piano to warm his throat up. the first few notes started off slow and stable according to the piano keys, but with constant fear running on his mind, his fingers slipped and pressed the wrong one. the awry sound makes him cringe and shuts his eyes in annoyance. he hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because he adores you more than anything, even when your cracked voice sometimes haunts him at night. see, seungmin’s giving his all to you,

but why are you doing this to me? where are you? i miss you.

“heh, pathetic,” he mutters to himself as he slowly lies down onto the piano bench, facing the chandelier which lights would usually illuminate you when sitting on the same bench while waiting for him to get to the music room, running your delicate fingers along the black and white wood. your side profile’s exactly like a goddess—breathtaking.

sighing over the imagery of you, he begins unbuckling his belt; eyes closing momentarily when he slips a hand into his unbuttoned pants and starts palming his clothed member. three weeks. it’s been three weeks since he last got off, since he last felt your touch, and he’s been trying his best to hold back because he believes you’ll eventually come around. he believes you won’t leave him just like that, yet you aren’t here again today, and he’s dying to release his pent-out frustration.

a heavy sigh escapes his lips when he takes out his dick, the tip leaking from precum and it makes him let out another sigh when he begins pumping it; another one follows, then another one, and it carries on as seungmin’s hand goes faster by each second. even in the peak of his pleasure, all he can think of is you. oh, how heavenly it would’ve been to have both your soft hand and pretty lips around him instead. his free hand is quick to slip into his pocket, snatching your handkerchief. despite only briefly smothering himself with it, your lingering scent alone is enough to make his head spin. with the sateen now wrapping around his throbbing cock, it feels as if you’re there, skin to skin with him.

“fuck!” he hisses, but eyes widening right away over his own volume as he quickly raises his head to check on the slightly opened door.

he’s so close and pausing in the middle just to lock the damned door would ruin everything. should he just bet on his luck today? it’s not like any of his well trained maids would rudely barge into his music room, right? but who knows?

screw it.

his back automatically arches when he feels the increasing tension in his pelvis, and it pushes him to fasten his hand move—pumping his dick rapidly to release. with eyes rolling to the back of his head, seungmin begins chanting your name desperately and that’s your last straw. the moment seungmin ejaculates is the moment you slam the door open and run towards him. the poor guy who’s barely riding out his high jumps on the bench as he sits up.

“y/n—”

“shut up,” you cut him off and crash both of your lips and body together, causing him to fall back down onto the bench, and creating a somewhat deafening screech on the floor, but it’s nothing compared to his loud moan in between the kiss.

the feeling of you straddling his lap instantly makes him hard again; the feeling of his warm hands running wild all over you and the stickiness on your inner thigh coming from your ruined handkerchief has you wetting your already damped panties—the effect of rubbing yourself when peeping on his little show. as the kiss deepens, so does your hunger for each other. of course, there’s no way you’ve gotten over what he did, and he’s surely still upset for being ghosted too, but for now, lust is winning. one squeeze on your thigh is all it needs for you to throw your baby blue dress across the room.

“you’re always so hot when you do that,” says the now naked seungmin who gets back onto the same position, looking at you with his half lidded eyes as his arms stretch out to fondle your breasts, his favorite part.

“the only time you’d compliment me is when we have sex,” you scoff before going back down on him, slowly yet easily pushing his cock inside of you, and both of you grunt in unison.

“y/n, ah— shit! i told you it’s because i know you can do better.”

snorting, you call him a liar before grinding mindlessly, movement starting off slow just like how your breathy moans starting off low. as much as seungmin enjoys being taken care of, patience doesn’t exist in his dictionary today. his hands leave your chest for your hips, guiding you to slip in and out of him at a faster pace. but that’s still not enough—he needs more. in a blink of an eye, you go from being on top of him to under him. seungmin bangs you down loudly on the grand piano, your buttcheeks and hands hitting the keys and filling the entire room with jumbled notes while you yourself are filled by him to the fullest, right at your g-spot.

“seung— fuck!” 

“louder,” he commands while thrusting into you, hips moving in a rhythm, and strong hands bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders before holding onto your ass, supporting you from slipping down—multitasking is indeed his second best talent besides singing.

“what’s the p— point?” you breathe out, trying your best to sound coherent while maintaining eye contact, “so you’ll compliment karina instead again? pat her on the head and caress her cheek again?”

“you know i only did that to motivate you.”

“bullshit.”

if seungmin has to name anything you can do best, it’ll definitely be your ability to drive him crazy—disobeying him. again, he believes he has been going all in, keeping up with your lack of talent and bullshit for the past half a year; the way you’d fight, then fuck him, and fight again only to fuck him again, and the cycle continues. whenever he tries to talk things out, be it about your vocal lesson or your tangled relationship, you wouldn’t give a damn. today, that has to change.

“and i’m the one to blame? karina always listens to me,” he replies, slowing his thrust as he can feel your walls clenching around him even more and more.

“faste—“

“i said louder, y/n. tear your mouth wide open,” he grunts, thrusting into you so strongly that you jump and land back on the piano, creating such messy harmonies.

“seungmin, faster!” you yelp, voice raspy yet a little louder this time with your hands finding their way on his shoulders, and it makes him sneer as he leans in to kiss you, biting your lower lip before he lets go, and stop dead on track.

“hoarse voice, dry lips. don’t i always tell you to stay hydrated?”

you find it unfair. seungmin’s energy doesn’t make sense. the fact that he still has the power to put up with fucking while carrying you even after his solo session is unfair. and the way he has the audacity to give you a vocal lesson in the middle of everything, then stopping just because you aren’t complying is way too cruel, but perhaps, this is what you deserve.

“i’ll never cancel our lessons again. i’ll— i’m sorry. i will really listen to you,” you beg desperately, almost sobbing as you grind on him, refusing to let the tingling sensation on your core die down.

seungmin shakes his head. he knows you too well. normally, seeing you surrender like this softens him and makes him think that perhaps, he’s being way too demanding, or maybe, he should be even more understanding.

“that’s not what i asked for, love.” is what he says before resuming, putting all the remaining pressure he has left to snap his dick deeper into you.

that’s when his name falls out of your lips ever so gracefully, followed by endless ah’s, jaw hanging open. this is the loudest and clearest you’ve ever been—no holding back, no hitching breaths, no cracking—pure perfection. 

seungmin doesn’t even need to ask for more because you’re already repeating it on your own.

“fuck yes. just like that. such a good girl,” he grunts right beside your ear, picking up his pace.

it only takes a few moments till you feel the familiar knot in your abdomen coming back along with him twitching inside of you, and this time, you make sure to hold onto him so tight, afraid he’d pull the same stunt again.

“shit— please let me cum. please cum with me, come inside me, please, please, please,” you blabber, voice turns husky once more, but seungmin couldn’t care less, there’s always another chance for another vocal lesson. right now, all he wants is to,

“cum.”

the two of you reach together. name chanting, legs shaking, fingers digging, and body fluids mixing into each other—drenching not only your lower bodies, but also the extravagant bösendorfer piano seungmin shipped all the way from austria. but that’s another thing to worry about. right now, he can barely keep his eyes open while you can barely feel your stiff spread legs across his shoulders. once he’s made sure you’re over your high, seungmin gently pulls out and lets you down. he sits himself first on the bench before pulling you by the waist to seat you on his lap, and the two of you let silence take over for a little while.

“i know you’ve been bribing my maids,” you start off, “they have a big pay, but it’s impossible for their designer bags to double up in just a week, you know,” you continue while pushing his damp hair aside, revealing the remaining half of his sweaty forehead.

“they were gonna snitch on you to your mom,” he replies, pausing in the middle to mirror your action, pushing strands of hair to the back of your ear before averting his gaze back on your eyes.

even with your smudged eye makeup and cracked lipstick, you’re still as shining, dilating his pupil.

“and?”

“and she’s gonna fire me.”

“isn’t that what i should worry about? you’re a world winning award soprano. there are hundreds of talented people waiting in line to be your students. money isn’t the problem. plus, i know you hate my voice. i also never listen to you, never call you sir, and am ninety nine percent horny throughout our lessons. in short, i’m a bratty and disrespectful pain in the ass.”

your punchline makes him snort and he can’t help but to pull you into a hug, closing the already small space in between so he can indulge in your body heat and feel your chest beating calmly alongside his.

but what happened to changing things? don’t you wanna be in charge? you can’t just let her have everything she wants. 

despite hearing the faint voices in his head, mocking him for having the weakest heart for you, seungmin doesn’t care. for all he knows, he was a train wreck earlier this day; he surely didn’t expect he would go from reminiscing the memory of you under the chandelier to it actually coming true. 

“this is real, you’re here.”

“it is. i am.”

“and you’re gonna—“ pausing, he breaks the hug to cup your cheeks, “you have to stay.”

“what for? for you? for the vocal lessons? for… what?” you question, unconsciously tilting your head as you place a hand over his, slightly squeezing it, hoping he wouldn’t let go.

silence.

“i might be a bitch, but i’m not dumb. it isn’t about money and it isn’t about sex either. so what is it, seungmin?” you ask, eyes searching for an answer before adding, “i bring no good to you.”

you’re right. his best friends have said the same thing. they can’t seem to wrap their heads around how a collected person like him can break so easily over a random, spoiled, daddy’s little princess. it doesn’t make sense, he knows—i know. he’s been trying to figure it out, only to meet the same dead end.

“i’m a mistake.”

yes—yes you are, and seungmin hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because,

“you’re the only mistake in my life that i can take, y/n.”

—

gen’s masterlist

[leossmoonn]

Close Call [Damon Salvatore]

masterlist 

pairing - damon salvatore x fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

note - hey, guys! this was a request , enjoy :)

summary - damon and you get in a fight and it ends up with you in an accident. damon finds you and helps you with your injuries

warnings - language, car crash, blood loss, mention of cuts and bruises, physical fight, lil make out session in the beginning. also don’t read this if you aren't on like season 4 lol

————

*gif isnt mine*

Sun peaked through the window and into your eyes, blinding you for a few moments. You turned around in bed, sighing contently as you laid your eyes on your boyfriend of 4 months. He was already awake and looked to already be staring at you. 

“It’s creepy to stare,” you smirked. 

“I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful when you sleep,” Damon smiled and put his hand up to your face. He tucked your hair behind your ear and moved closer to you. 

“Is that so?” You giggled. 

He nodded and put his lips onto yours. You let out a pleased moan into his mouth. His hands went from your cheeks down to your arm. He caressed your skin, going down to your bare thighs. You sighed into the kiss, raking your hands through his hair. 

He pulled away from the kiss, leaving you pouting. 

“More,” you whined and leaned in to kiss him again. 

“No, no, I need to go,” he said, resting his hand on your waist under your shirt. 

“Go where?” You asked. You made patterns on his cheek with your index finger.

“Go and kill Klaus,” Damon explained. He got up using his vamp speed and went to the bathroom. 

You furrowed your brows. Go kill Klaus? You two had talked about a plan with Elena, Stefan, Caroline, and Bonnie that did not include Damon just running off by himself. 

“I thought we made up a plan last night, though,” you said as you went over to the bathroom. 

Damon shrugged and got into the shower. “Yeah. Well, little Gilbert, Stefan, Alaric, and I made up a different one.”

“Why? Our plan was perfectly fine. Plus, when does Stefan actually want to help?” You asked, stepping into the shower with him. 

“Stefan still loves Elena. Deep down he does. Under all that “Klaus-broke-me-” crap,” Damon said. 

You nodded, understanding that. You still didn’t understand why Damon went behind your back. 

“You realize that I’m not letting you risk your life by fighting a thousand year old hybrid, right?” You chuckled. 

“I know. That’s why Stefan is going to make sure you don’t get in the way,” Damon smiled sweetly. 

You scoffed, “I am not being held hostage while my boyfriend is going on a suicide mission.”

“You have to, babe. Otherwise you’ll die.”

“Oh, and that’s different from you dying.”

“Yes, I’m a vampire. I’ll have a bunch of stakes with me, white oak stakes to be exact. I’ll be fine,” he shrugged. 

You frowned and shook your head. “Klaus will kill you. He’s too strong, especially with all his hybrids. Jeremy and Alaric are just human. You’re the only vampire. The only thing Klaus needs to do is aim a regular stake at your heart to kill you. I have a feeling Klaus is good with aim, too.”

“I said I’ll be fine! Don’t be so dramatic,” Damon brushed your concerns off. 

“I am not being dramatic! Sorry that I'm worried about you facing the world’s most dangerous predator,” you scoffed and got out of the shower. 

Damon sighed and followed you. “I have all of Alaric’s weapons with me! Especially those wolfsbane grenades.”

You rolled your eyes. “I said you’re not going. I don’t care if I have to chain you to the bed, but you are not risking your life. We made up a plan last night, and that is the plan you are going with.”

“No, Y/n! I’m doing this my way, wether you like it or not.”

You huffed. “You are such a dick sometimes.”

Damon growled and before you knew it, you were being slammed into the wall. Damon’s eyes went red and you breathed in in fear.   

“I said I am going. Stefan is going to make sure you don’t interfere. Got it?” Damon whispered. 

Your fear diminished and you raised your hand. You slapped him across the face. He let you go, shocked that you had hit him. 

“I am not a little child you can boss around. I am your girlfriend and I am allowed to be worried for you. But, fine, since you obviously don’t need me or care what I have to say, then I’ll go. I hope your plan turns into a shit-show,” you spat and walked out of the bathroom. 

You put your hair up quickly and got dressed into the clothes you had worn the night before. You rushed out of Damon’s rooms and down the stairs. 

“Hey, Y/n... you okay?” Stefan walked up to you and asked. 

“Shove it,” you muttered and walked out the door. 

You ran to your car and swung the door open. You sniffled and wiped your nose while getting in. 

“Lock me up in the house like a dog. Who the hell does he think he is!” You exclaimed to yourself. 

You started the car and drove fast out of the Salvatore gates. You didn’t know where you were going, but you just wanted to get as far away as you could. 

You knew Damon had always been protective and at times, controlling, but this was a new level. He never actually had to lock you in the house. He also never lied to you before and went behind your back. 

A part of you felt like you were overreacting. You've seen Stefan and Damon go behind people’s back’s before. They always had another plan in motion. But, the difference was that this time, Damon was going behind your back. 

You sighed and wiped the tears from your eyes. Your phone started to ring and you ignored that, as you were driving. You let the call die out, but then your phone started to ring again. You rolled your eyes, knowing it was Damon. You knew he wouldn't stop until you answered. 

So you slowed down your car and reached for your phone which was on the passenger seat. You frowned as it was too far. Your eyes went to the road and quickly went back to your phone. As you reached further, you heard a car honk at you. You finally were able to grab your phone, but before you new it, the car that was honking at you collided with your car. 

————

You woke up with your head throbbing. You opened your eyes slowly, feeling dizzy and nauseous. You looked at your surroundings. You were in your car, but it didn’t look right. It was when you looked up that you realized you were upside down in your car. 

Tears clouded your eyes. You looked around yourself, seeing a glass shards from your window shelf lodged in your thigh, wrist, and right below your neck in your collar bone. 

You cried out in horror and pain. “Shit!”

Blood was dripping down to the roof from your neck. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” You cursed. 

Your mind felt foggy from all the blood loss. You found yourself calling out Damon’s name in the silence. 

“Damon! Save me, please! Damon, please! Damon...” your hoarse voice called out to him. 

You felt your eyes droop and it felt hard to breathe. “Damon!” You let out one last yell before you fell back into the darkness. 

A few moments later and you awoke again. You opened your eyes slightly, seeing a tall figure next to you. The figure went down to your level and you saw that it was Damon. 

“Hey, baby, I’m gonna get you out of here. Okay?” He said and put his hand against your cheek. 

You nodded, your mind still hazy. You went in and out of consciousness once again. Every few moments, you fell back in your seat, then woke up, to only faint again. 

“Fuck,” you heard Damon mutter as you went into consciousness again. 

“Y/n? Are you awake? I need you to do something for me,” he said. 

“Huh?” You said. Your voice was hoarse and distant. Like you were just waking up from a deep, deep sleep. 

“I need you to put your hands on the roof for me. Can you do that for me, babe?” Damon asked. 

You looked at him, eyes half-open-half-closed. You nodded slowly, putting your hands up weakly to the roof.

“I know you’ve lost a lot of blood, but I need you to try and push on the roof as hard as you can. Okay, princess?” Damon asked softly. 

You nodded, your eyes going back down. Damon cursed again, thinking you were going to go back into unconsciousness again. But, you kept your hands on the roof and pushed up as hard of you could. 

Damon saw this and then lifted your car so he could move it slightly to where he would have more access to you. He went back down on his knees and put his arms around you and his hands on your seatbelt. 

“What’s happening?” You asked. 

“I’m saving you. Here, I'm gonna unbuckle you and that’s where you slide into my arms and out of the car, okay?” He said. 

You nodded, gaining more consciousness. He unbuckled your seatbelt and you pushed yourself out of the seat, easily sliding into Damon's arms. Damon scooted you back so you two sat on the road, you on his lap. 

“Y/n? Stay awake for me, princess. You can do this,” he said and put his hand on the glass shard in your thigh. 

“Damon...” your voice drifted off. 

“I’m here, baby. I’m gonna pull the glass out. It’ll only hurt for a few moments,” he said. 

You nodded and he pulled the shard out of your thigh. You cried out in pain and Damon cringed. He hated seeing you in pain. Especially since he was the cause of it. 

“I’m gonna do your wrist and collar bone,” he said. 

You nodded quickly, biting your lip in anticipation. He pulled the glass out of you skin quickly, earning two screams from you while doing so. 

“It’s okay, princess. It’s over now. Here, let me feed you some of my blood so you can heal,” he said and started to bite his wrist, but you shook your head. 

“Take me... hospital.. in case.. die,” you said weakly. 

He furrowed his brows, but obeyed your wishes. He rushed you to the hospital with his vamp speed. 

“She got in a car crash. Help her,” Damon said to a nurse and gestured to your unconscious body in his arms. 

“We don’t have enough rooms now, sir, please wait,” the nurse said. 

Damon growled and looked into her eyes. “That’s bullshit. My girlfriend is about to die here, so get me a room or I’ll rip your throat out.”

The nurse’s eyes widened and she nodded quickly. She led Damon to a room and he set you down on a bed. 

The doctors came in and got you an oxygen tube, blood transfusion, and cleaned your cuts and got you into clean, hospital clothes. 

You didn’t come into full consciousness until an hour later. During that hour, Damon had called your friends and told them the news. Elena, Bonnie, Caroline, Matt, and Stefan came into your room and waited with Damon for you to wake up. 

You finally woke up, gasping loudly and your eyes flying open.

“Wha-where am I?” You asked, looking around the room. You calmed down once you saw the friendly faces of your friends. 

“You’re in the hospital, Y/n. Damon brought you here after the car crash. Are you okay?” Bonnie came over to you and asked. She held your hand, tears of relief falling down her cheeks. 

“Oh,” you said. You looked at Damon, faint memories of him saving you from dying resurfacing. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. My thigh and wrist is sore, though,” you frowned. 

“Yeah, the doctor wrapped your injuries. Damon said you refused his vampire blood, so he took you to the hospital. We’ve been waiting for about an hour for you to wake up,” Matt said. 

“Thank you guys for waiting. Sorry if I caused a lot of worry,” you smiled apologetically as you saw the tears on all their faces. 

“It’s okay. We’re just glad Damon got there in time,” Elena smiled at you. She came over to you and gave you a hug. 

You smiled and hugged her back. “Where is Damon?”

“He was getting you some ice cream,” Caroline said. 

You smiled and nodded. A knock at the door sounded and you tore your eyes away from your friends. Your eyes landed on Damon who held the most guilty look on his face. 

“We’ll give you some alone time,” Caroline smiled. Your friends went out into the hallway and Damon came in. 

“I got you your favorite. They only had a pint at the store, no gallon, which is weird,” he said and set the ice cream down on a nearby table. 

“Thank you, Damon,” you smiled. 

Damon sighed and came over to you. He sat at the end of your bed, placing his hands on yours. 

“I’m sorry for being such an asshole. You had a right to be worried. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back. It’s just Klaus has threatened to kill you so much, and I want to kill him so bad. I’m your boyfriend, I was just trying to protect you. I’m sorry I made you upset and got you hurt, and almost killed you. I'm so sorry,” Damon apologized while tears fell from his eyes. 

You smiled forgivingly. “It’s okay, babe. You were the one who saved me, anyways. I forgive you. I’m sorry for hitting you. That wasn’t the right way to handle the situation. I hope I didn’t hurt you too bad.”

Damon smiled and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Your slap felt like a little tap to me.”

You laughed, “Interesting. But, Damon, just don’t go behind my back again, please.”

“I promise I won’t. I love you,” Damon said and leaned in to kiss you. 

You kissed him back, your hand wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. Your heart monitor went up and you two pulled away, laughing. 

“I get you all flustered, huh?” Damon smirked. 

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, a blush forming on your cheeks. 

————

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@be-patient-be-good​

[inkedtae]

doe’s peak ⇾ ksj. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ gryffindor!seokjin x slytherin!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ e2l, hogwarts au, some fluff, a bit of angst, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  a series of reckless pranks leads to a dismissal from Hogwarts and a new house guest. two weeks of amity sessions ends on a happier note than expected. 

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 20.1k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ brief mention of a fire, brief mention of theft, blonde!seokjin, longhair/ponytail!seokjin, pureblood!seokjin, dom!seokjin, brat tamer!seokjin, halfblood(?)!reader, sub!reader, brat!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, hate sex, degradation, mutual masterbation, double penatration, exhibition, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, heavy humiliation kink, use of vibrating dildo, oral (m. and f. receiving), orgasm denial, bondage, begging, hair pulling, spanking, pussy slapping, manhandling, fingering, edging, cum eating, face fucking, deep-throating, throat-cockwarming (?), cum swapping (?), panty eating (?), a bit of anal, a lil ass and titty play, spit play, a lil food play, basically filth

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ this was supposed to be a fluffy drabble...

･ﾟﾟ･｡ beta’d by ⇾ @kitsutaes​ (my luff~) & @moonmintrails​ (my soulmate~)

･ﾟﾟ･｡ le playlist

⟶ please note that, despite still attending Hogwarts, all characters are of consenting age

He smells of tough cedar and sweet cherries. It’s common for his scent to fill the room after a bath. You want to say you despise it but, in fact, you find it quite comforting. It always helps lull you to sleep. You fear that you might have grown too comfortable with it. The last two weeks of his very presence have been much of a bother, but it’s the little things, like the way he smells and the soft patters of his footsteps, that almost make you glad he’s around. You wonder how you’ll be able to fall asleep without him after tomorrow. 

Two weeks flew by. You’ve been praying for that reality since Headmistress McGonagall first suggested this arrangement. Both you and Seokjin have been excused from classes for fourteen days, issued off campus and into your home in the muggle world. Magic is prohibited, wands confiscated, but the two of you are still expected to keep up with your class readings and assignments should you both return to Hogwarts. 

“Spending intimate time with one another without the temptation of magic will put an end to all these shenanigans,” McGonagall insisted. 

Despite the reality of sharing your home and room with someone as insufferable as Kim Seokjin, you're thankful the headmistress didn’t opt for a more serious consequence. After all, you are still under investigation for the fire in the Gryffindor dormitories. Records reflect that it started in Seokjin’s room and witnesses place you at the scene of the crime. And the fact that you’ve admitted to being there, reclaiming letters Seokjin had stolen from you, doesn’t help your case. McGonagall promises to share the results of the investigation once your two weeks with Seokjin come to an end. 

A fire was never your intention. Truly, all you wanted was the year’s worth of letters from your family Seokjin kept intercepting. Before finding out he was behind it, you were convinced your family was upset with you. You’ve written to them consistently, telling them you miss them and wondering why they haven’t responded. You found stacks of letters, some opened and read, in his room. You had every intention of sneaking back in at night and levitating his bed into the lake while he’s sleeping as a means of retaliation. Though you were worried he’d found out about your family, about the truth, a fire never even crossed your mind. You’re almost certain you had blown all the candles out before leaving. 

Twirling the gold, snake headed pendant of your necklace between your fingers, you wonder if maybe you left one lit subconsciously. Maybe a part of you wanted to set his room on fire, wanted him to suffer as you did when you thought your family was on the cusp of disowning you. 

These are dangerous thoughts. You can’t be capable of such destruction. Yes, you might have charmed his broom to launch him into the lake, or dyed his hair blonde through a potion “mistake,” but to set his room on fire is cruel. No matter how badly you want him to keep your secret or how badly you want to get even, you know you would never turn to such an evil act.

With a deep breath, you flip the page of your History of Magic textbook, and attempt to refocus your attention on the Battle of Hogwarts. You try to drown out every sound he makes down the hall, every waft of his scent that trickles into your room. All is well until he decides to enter your shared room without a shirt. Only a simple red towel hangs around his thin waist. 

You can’t help but stare. Little droplets stream down his wide chest. Nipples hard; abs tight. You regret to recognize how heavenly he looks. A breathless sigh escapes you as he shakes a smaller towel through his long hair. More drops of water spatter about, but your attention narrows on his arms. Has he always been that muscular? 

A single scan over his tall frame soaks your panties. You curse him three times over, having just changed into them. You were clean and ready for bed before he came in looking like that. Damp hair in a loose braid, a soft, flowy nightgown on, face primped and moisturized. All that was left for you to do was some light reading of next week’s topic. Then he comes in, basically naked and wet, making your pussy clench at the sight. Can’t he do anything right? Why the hell didn’t he get dressed in the bathroom? 

“Why the hell didn’t you get dressed in the bathroom?”

Seokjin spares you a glance over his shoulder as he walks out to hang the small towel on the railing. You can’t help but drool over the flexing muscles of his back. Hate fills your chest at the awakened desire to run your tongue across the length of his shoulders. 

“I forgot to take my clothes,” he shrugs, making his way back into the room. He shuts the door and begins to rummage around the drawers Mama forced you to empty for him. 

You mutter a colourful insult under your breath as he pulls on a pair of boxer briefs under his towel. The thought of taking them back off doesn’t surprise you as much as the act of leaning off your bed to sneak a look at his dick. Heat rushes to your cheeks the moment you register your actions. What the hell has gotten into you? Shifting back in your seat, you press your thighs together to attempt to soothe the ache between your legs. 

What has come over you? You’ve seen shirtless guys before, been under a few of them too. Not to mention, this is Seokjin. The arrogant, conceded idiot who stole your letters all year and read them. You hate him, you know every part of you does. So why is the sight of him shirtless this captivating?

No, you mentally assert. It’s not Seokjin you’re attracted to; it’s the idea of a shirtless guy - any guy. You’ve been isolated in your house with a daft, alpaca looking pureblood and his pet sugar glider (which is against school rules but he manages to keep one anyways.) You just miss sex. All you have to do is get yourself off and all other thoughts of stupid, shirtless Seokjin will disappear. You decide that once he goes to sleep, you’ll, as quietly as you can, get yourself off under the covers. 

Your jaw almost drops when he doesn’t reach for a shirt or pants. Seokjin shuts the drawers and tosses the wet towel that was previously wrapped around his waist in the hamper. The nerve of this fucker. He prances around your room in only his underwear, acting like this is his house, not yours. You set your jaw and raise an unimpressed brow.

When his gaze meets yours, you can’t help but glare. He doesn’t entertain your annoyed antics as he usually does. With heavy eyes and a little yawn, he grumbles, “Shove over.”

You scoff. “Funny.”

“I mean it,” he sighs, flicking up the covers. “I’ve spent the last two weeks on the floor. I earned my time on this bed.”

A hiss escapes you as the cold air hits your smushed, exposed thighs. You snatch the sheets from his hands and cover yourself up again. “That’s ‘cause it’s my bed.” 

“Just move over.”

“No.”

Seokjin waves his hand, effortlessly pushing your body aside. With your wands confiscated, the most the two of you can do is wave little commands to practise magic. Before you can react with more than just a gasp, he hops into bed and makes himself comfortable. “Much better,” he smirks. 

You can feel his bare legs brush up against yours, but ignore the rise of goosebumps long enough to kick him away. “You’re a fiend, Kim Seokjin. A pureblooded, bottom feeding, prideful... jerk-ing fiend.” You may have stuttered through the last insult, catching yourself getting lost in his eyes, but you believe you’ve made your point clear. 

“Prideful jerking?” Seokjin questions with an amused smile. He quirks his head to the side and sighs. 

He opens his mouth to offer his opinion but you silence him with the slam of your book and a switch off the lights by the wave of your hand. You know he’s not leaving. He doesn’t even make an effort to move. There’s not much to do except ignore his entire existence and try to get some sleep. Accepting the fate of your night, you set your textbook on your night table and turn to your side with every intention of falling asleep. 

But then the bed dips. You raise a brow, thinking he might’ve come to his senses and decided to return to his place on the ground. Only, his side of the bed doesn’t feel lighter. The springs screech as he shifts until the quiet clutter of a soft object hits the hardwood floor. 

You hear him spit. Once, twice then the slick sound of slouched wetness fills the room. Breath hitching, you turn back to find him sitting up, back against the headboard and briefless. “Huge,” you whisper, too fixated on his size to even care about his quiet, arrogant chuckles. 

You knew Seokjin invented big dick energy, but to see his size, in the fucking dark, and still fear for your pussy is another story. Huge doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’re sure giants don’t even have a cock as big as he does. It isn’t the biggest cock you’ve seen; it’s just quite simply the biggest cock to exist. 

“How’d you know I was into being watched?” He asks as he continues to pump himself. 

His gruff voice, drenched in lust, has you balling your nightgown. You sit up and pull your knees into your chest, squeezing your legs together. He must be insane, deranged, absolutely idiotic to think he can take up half your fucking bed and then whip out his monster of a cock and expect everything to be okay. 

Pussy clenching around emptiness, you reply, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Prideful jerking.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

His hips buckle up into his hands and you can’t help but stare down at his cock again. You swallow thickly, hating the way you crave for his cock to fill that vacant space in your throat. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

You answer too quickly. The desperate desire in your tone, the crack of your voice has not been lost on him. He chuckles to himself and picks up the pace. You can only hover your trembling fingers over your lips, clutch onto your nightgown with your other hand and watch him get himself off with pride. 

His large hand wraps around yours, grabbing onto the hem of your nightgown as well. You stiffen. Gazing at him in the soft moonlight, you wonder if he’d make you take over the task of getting him off. You wonder if he’ll guide your hand over his cock and show you how to pace your pumps, or if he’ll have you cup his balls and massage them while he continues to bring himself closer to his orgasm. 

But, he doesn’t entertain any of those options. Seokjin, instead, rubs your knuckles and whispers, “I don’t just like being watched; I like watching too.” He then pries the bunched up hem out of your hands and pushes it up to your hips. “Panties off.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” you hiss, breasts heaving from how horny this entire situation is making you. “I’m keeping them on.”

Seokjin raises a brow, as if offering one last chance for you to change your mind. When you simply hold his gaze, he nods and covers himself up again. You can tell he’s still going though, the lifts of the comforter being a dead give away. 

“What are you doing?”

“This is a two way street, Little Doe,” he taunts before dragging his tongue across your cheek. You shudder and melt into his frame as he continues, “You’re going to have to give a little to get some.”

A series of insults are on the tip of your tongue, but the stripe of saliva on your cheek is all you can focus on. You want him to do it again, the shame of that craving clear on your face. Seokjin can read right through the glare you then attempt to wear. He grunts quietly as that amused look colours his features. 

You can still hear the wet clicks of his pumps, the squeak of the springs when he rolls his hips in his hand. Gulping, you emptily gag on the ghostly imagination of his huge length squeezing into your throat.

He chuckles under his breath. The sound is all too cocky for your liking, jumpstarting your senses once more. 

“You’re a fucking prick,” you finally hiss.

“I know you want my dick.”

“You know that’s not what I said.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “You didn’t deny it though, did you?”

You want to curse him, hit him, suck him, screw him- no… A little ride wouldn’t hurt, though. A string of sparkling shivers slither up your spine at the thought of sitting on his cock. Nails in those broad shoulders, tits against his chest, ass smacking his thick thighs.

He smirks. He’s waiting. 

Nothing can hold back the pooling wetness of your core, and you refuse to deny it for much longer. Hooking your thumbs into your panties, you lift your hips and shimmy out of them. You’re about to toss them aside when Seokjin nudges your chin. He nods towards your mouth, silently ordering you to shove them in. 

“You can’t be serious,” you sigh, voice almost pleading. It’s not enough he’s having you follow orders, but to make you suck on your own soaked panties is just cruel. 

He only shrugs. You’re not even worth his words now. The humiliation is getting harder to ignore, your pussy gushing for it with every passing second. With a tiny huff, you shove your panties into your mouth. You taste dirty. You feel it too. But, he finally pulls the sheets back once more, letting you know you’ve earned the treat. A twinge of pride replaces the embarrassment. 

Pink tipped, oozing precum, his massive cock slightly curves. You can’t help the satisfied sigh that escapes you. Fingers latching on your pussy, you swirl your wetness around your clit. You’re about to shove two fingers in, eyes locked on his length to catch his warning glare, but he stops you. 

“Don’t you dare,” he hisses. 

You furrow your brows as if wordlessly asking how the fuck he thinks you can watch him and not be able to finger yourself. You need something in you. He ignores your stares, the little grunts you let out in protest and shifts your fingers back up to your clit. 

The curses you want to hurl at him get muffled into your panties. He knows this too well, that smirk on his lips only widening. And though you believe you can do whatever the fuck you want, you keep your fingers around your clit. You’ll take any amount of friction at this point. 

“Oh, you can spit that out now,” he shrugs. 

You pause. Wasn’t the point of the panties in your mouth to make sure you’re quiet? Seokjin ignores your confused looks, leaning his head back against the headboard. As you drop your panites out of your mouth, his true intentions finally settle upon you. It was never about silencing you, but about humiliating you. Every word he’s uttered since whipping his massive cock out has been an order, all of which you’ve eventually followed. 

You glare at him, finally meeting his eye as he lazily looks over at you. “Is everything a game to you?” 

Seokjin dips his head into the crook of your neck. You tilt your head up without much thought. His teeth graze your skin, warm tongue soon following to soothe those little bites he leaves behind. You whimper and shudder with every hot breath he fans over you.

How is he doing this so easily? Your fingers pick up their pace with every new jolt of pleasure his mouth brings. 

“Slow down,” he whispers while trailing wet kisses along your jawline.

Your mind wants to rebel and rub your clit with twice as much speed and force. However, your body yields to his commands, complying to his every order. You huff angrily, finding yourself defenseless against him. As a weak act of defiance, you rest your leg over his. 

He grins. His free hand rubs your inner thigh, making you regret your actions instantly. With every stroke up and down your leg, your pussy only gets wetter, needier for his hand. Your eyes flutter shut, body trembles as you begrudgingly submit your entire being to him. 

“Touch me,” you plead. 

Seokjin tightens his hold on your thigh. “And what do you call this, Little Doe?”

You whine, forcing your eyes open to meet his gaze. Noses brushing, breaths exchanging, your lips hover over one another. You force your hand off your clit and bite back a mewl from the lost contact. “Touch me,” you repeat, voice only just cracking. 

For once, his amused demeanour is nowhere to be found. Seokjin creases all movements. He pauses for a second, scanning your features, then drops his gaze between your legs. In deep thought, he bites his lip. You can’t help the cold vacancy around your pussy, hips slightly rolling up for attention. Seokjin takes your wrist and guides your wet hand to his cock. “Slowly,” he advises. 

Fingers hovering over his huge length, you nod. A squeal escapes you as you stroke him. Just from those gentle touches, you can feel how heavy he is. Hand trembling, you wrap your fingers around him and slowly pump. 

He sighs against your cheek. You hate how proud you feel, but the kisses he places near your lips distract you enough to melt into him. 

“Who knew you were such a good girl?”

“Shut up,” you snap, though your pace on his cock remains steady. 

Seokjin trails his fingers up your thigh, to your wetness. You moan upon feeling his fingers circle around your clit. “You’re even wetter than you look,” he whispers.

“I said, shut up.”

A sharp slap to your clit draws a yelp out of you. Though you glare at him, tightening your grip on his cock, he only continues with the smacks. Each one is harder than the last, forcing you to pull your legs to your chest once more. 

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours. “Be a good girl, Little Doe, and spread’em.”  

You pout and nudge back. Seokjin presses his lips together, holding back whatever laughter you’ve provoked, then pushes his mouth against yours. The fact that you don’t hesitate to kiss him back surprises you. Up until now, all you thought you wanted was a quick fuck. Now, you can’t imagine how you’ve resisted the urge to kiss him for so long. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, taking control almost immediately. You want to say you’re annoyed but you love the way it feels around yours too much to fight against him any longer.

Slowly, you spread your legs once more. He lands one last smack on your clit then soothes the blissful stinging away by circling his fingers around your pussy again. He’s moving his hand faster than yours, making you moan against his lips. 

Seokjin pulls away with a smirk as your moans suddenly tumble into the room instead of his mouth. He laughs while you glare. “Aw, come on, Little Doe,” he purrs. “Aren’t you having fun?”

You pout, biting back moans, and pick up the pace of your pumps around his cock. If he wants to play, you have no problem doing the same thing. His hips buckle into your hand. You’re smirking now... until his hand moves faster. You follow his lead, picking up your pace as he picks up his. 

Lowly growling, Seokjin clenches his jaw. “Fucking slut,” he grunts. 

“Fucking prick,” you shoot back. However, your insult loses umph with every whining dip in your voice.

That amused look in his eyes is no more. His gaze hardens into something more sinister as he seethes, “Cum.”

You gasp as your hips roll into his hand. “You cum,” you huff. 

“Cum!”

“Cum…” Your voice may be losing its strength and authority, but the look in your eyes remains as cold as ever. 

Seokjin grins. He must feel your hole clenching, must sense how you’ve been tightening around emptiness, needy for a release. Does he know how horny that rasp in his authoritative voice makes you too? Does he know you’ll most likely be dreaming about him tonight from how his scent has imprinted itself on you?

“You’re pathetic.”

You really fucking are. How quickly did you give into him again? Are you needy to cum or needy for him? Your eyes slightly roll back as your toes curl. You’re getting closer; he’s bringing you closer. Can you really be to blame for yielding so quickly, though? He disarms your confidence within a few words. It feels like you were only cussing him out seconds ago for ordering you to take your panties off. And yet, here you are, on the cusp of cumming because he told you to. 

Body quaking, you throw your head back and bite on your lip to keep from screaming his name. Your ograsm hits you hard and quick. Riling beside him, you’ve lost control of your hand around his cock. Your pumps hesitate, losing momentum and speed. Seokjin finds himself having to warp his free hand around yours to make sure he gets off as well. 

Your ears are ringing, blood rushing to your head as you gush some more around emptiness. You pretend you’re stuffed though. You imagine his cock deep in, the imprint of his girth bulging from your stomach as you cum. You’re angry with him, with yourself, with how good all this feels. In the midst of uttering a curse, you feel a warm, thick shot of his cum land across your face. Another load paints your breasts and stains your nightgown. 

Seokjin’s panting, grunting, trying his best to stay quiet as well. Your hands retract from each other within seconds of riding the other out. You shudder from the last leaks of your orgasm and pull your legs into yourself. All the while, he’s resting his head back and palming himself. As his eyes flutter shut, you can’t help but stare. He looks just as heavenly post-orgasm. A light layer of sweat glistens on his forehead, wet lips seeming kissable one more. 

His breathing regulates as he looks over at you. Nothing can fight off your frustration at the sight of that lazy smirk on his face. He points up to his own nose and says, “You got a little somethin- Ow!” 

You grunt a smirk after swatting his arm. “Clean it off,” you order between breaths. “Now.”

He raises a brow. “You wanted it so bad. You clean it off.”

“That’s not what I said I wanted.” 

Seokjin licks his lips to fight off a smile. “Did you or did you not tell me to cum?”

“By that stupid logic, you have a mess down there you need to clean too.” 

To your surprise, he nods. Seokjin shifts, repositioning himself so that he’s in front of you. His strong hands wrap around your ankles and pull them apart before yanking you towards him. 

You gasp and fall back into your pillow, looking up at him in astonishment. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Cleaning up my mess,” he shrugs. As he dips his head between your legs, he says with a wink, “I suggest you do the same.”

There’s barely enough time to breath, let alone clean his cum off you, before his tongue latches onto your pussy. He slurps up your cum with vigor, shaking his head between your thighs. Lapping up your juices, sucking on your clit, he seems to change his intention from cleaning up his mess to creating a new one. 

Your fingers tangle into his blonde hair, tugging on the long strands as he peeks up at you. Upon finding you’ve done nothing but relish in the sensation of his warm tongue, Seokjin pulls his mouth away from your pussy. You lift your hips up, whining and mewling quietly in hopes that he’d find you just cute enough to continue. 

Seokjin pokes his tongue between the gaps of his teeth. In silence, he waits. You know what he wants, but you can’t find it in you to follow another order. He’s somehow managed to melt you into agreeing to every command. You’d rather suck him off than scoop his cum off your face and swallow it. 

“Do it.”

“No.” 

He huffs. His entire chest puffs out, shoulders rolling back as he leers over you. That usually glint of amusement dissolves into annoyance. “Do it,” he whispers. Though his voice may be quiet, tone soft, his eyes are unforgiving. It’s clear this is your last chance.

You don’t care. “No.”

He’s hovering over you. All you did was blink and he’s hovering over you. Hot, short breaths fan over your face. His tip pokes your lower belly. You’re trembling. His tongue shoots out, swiping across your face. One of his hands shoots to your chin, thumb pushing it down to open your mouth. He gathers some spit with his cum then drops the load into your mouth. 

Your right eye twitches, only just rolling back from the taste. You swallow almost immediately and force yourself to ignore the recoiling disappointment of your heart at how easily you give in even after putting up a sad excuse of a fight. 

Seokjin repeats the process, licking up the cum across your cleavage now. He pulls down the neckline of your nightgown to make sure he gets every drop. Again, he spits it into your mouth. And, again, you swallow. 

You think it’s over now. He has licked up every drop of cum off your skin, after all. But, Seokjin isn’t satisfied until you’ve swallowed it all. He cups your breasts, pushing them up to tighten your gown and licks the cum off it easier. You swallow without hesitation when he spits it into your mouth. 

Both his hands come down on your breasts. You jolt, biting your lip to keep from crying out a moan. “Next time,” he starts, groping and massaging your tits. “I won’t be so leintant.”

With your hands over your head, you quietly moan, reveling in the sweet action. You nod to his pathetic warning, knowing that in the end you’ll do whatever the fuck you want. Yet, you can’t find the courage to tell him that. 

Seokjin ceases all soft massages and tears your gown. You gasp and grip onto his wrists while looking down at your now exposed breasts.

“What the hell?” You whine in a whisper. 

He only smirks before returning to his side of the bed again. Making himself comfortable, he replies, “Sleep well, Little Doe.”

You scoff. He must think you won’t take the gown off, even if it were torn. You can’t fall asleep now knowing he has the upper hand. Sitting up, you pull the night gown off and toss it aside. Seokjin, having one arm tucked under his head, watches you with an amused smile. His eyes devour every exposed inch of you. As you lie back down, you realize you’ve played right into his trap once more. He wanted you just as naked as him. 

“You make it too easy,” he chuckles. 

“You really are a prick.”

He quirks a brow. “Funny. I don’t see you putting it back on if I’m such a prick.” 

You don’t want it on. He knows that. You sure as hell know that. But admitting it would only make that festering anger in the pit of your stomach bubble into your chest. “Just go to sleep, Jin,” you mutter, turning away from him. 

You want to believe that your bed has never felt more uneven, uncomfortable, unwelcoming, but you know that’s not the case. You’ve never felt warmer than with Seokjin beside you. His body by yours has been a better comfort than the emptiness you usually find back there. Does he feel it too? Is that why he was adamant on you watching him, joining him, swallowing him? Or was it all just another power play? 

He shifts behind you. You stiffen, chewing on your lip. His hand, hesitant and shaky, snakes across your waist. It freezes against your stomach. You gulp and flutter your eyes shut as you rest your arm over his. It’s as though that’s all the confirmation he needs to pull you back into his chest. Steady breaths tickling the nape of your neck, you allow yourself to lean into him. 

You tell yourself it’s the exhaustion. But the truth lies behind you, cradling your body against his. Lacing your fingers between his, you whisper, “This never happened.” 

Seokjin presses a ghost of a kiss upon the nape of your neck. “Whatever you say, Little Doe.”

The clucks of the hens and spray of the tap cannot drown out his infuriating laughter. He sounds like a choked seal, squealing chuckles uncontrollably. It’s embarrassing. He should be kicked out on that basis alone. 

You watch him chat up Mama and one of your aunties by the kitchen island. He makes another one of those stupid puns and they eat it up. Mama throws her head back, laughing along with him. Auntie Hyel chuckles and shakes her head before joining the rest of your family, your four uncles and Baba, outside. It’s as if this dismissal from Hogwarts was not at all his fault. Mama treats him like the son she never had. Laughing at his jokes, feeding him leftover egg and beef from her kimbap rolls; it’s disgraceful. They should both be ashamed of themselves. Everyone living in this house who has even given into his charms should be ashamed of themselves.

You shudder at last night’s memories, knowing you’re one of those people in this house now.

“Morning, dear,” Mama smiles upon finally spotting you on the staircase. 

Seokjin turns to face you, that prideful smirk plastered on his all too handsome face. Yes, you realize the cruel oddities of reality. Someone as horrible as Seokjin gets graced with undeniable beauty and you, with your kind heart and good intentions, are offered mediocrity.

He leans his elbows back on the counter. “Little Doe.”

The nickname hits differently now. Phantom shivers trail your spine upon hearing echos from last night. He purred that name one too many times to sit the same again. It used to twist your insides with disgust. But now all you can feel are nervous bursts of desire, and a yearning for his touch and presence like no other. 

“Shut it, you gerbil,” you hiss as you make the final step down the stairs. 

Your eyes lock on his lips, ghostly sensations of last night’s session all too fresh to ignore. Is it wrong to want them on yours again? Yes. He’s filthy, you remind yourself. Filthy with pride and an ego just as big as his dick. A huff escapes you as your hatred for him resurfaces. It takes everything in you not to shove him off his seat and take it instead. You know better than to do that in front of Mama. She’d smack the both of you with that wooden spoon by her side within seconds. 

Mama tsks at your name-calling when you take your seat. You meet her warning stare with caution. As you mutter a half-hearted apology, she sets a fresh cup of tea before you. Much like this morning, you drink the tea in small sips. 

“Thanks, Mama,” you mumble against the rim of the cup. 

Seokjin stares at you and smiles, “Yeah, Mama, thanks.”

You clench your jaw, keeping your eyes trained on the bento lunch boxes Mama prepares for your last amity meeting with Seokjin and Professor Trelawney. Since the two of you have met with your professor, you’ve broken every rule set by her. Insults are hurled consistently, taunts are made, threats are promised. The only thing the two of you haven’t done is prank each other. It’s too risky and the both of you can’t tolerate another second cut off from your friends. 

“Do you two think you can keep the teasing to a minimum today?” Mama asks as she wraps each box. “The headmistress is dropping by after lunch to tell you if you’ll be returning to Hogwarts.”

You furrow your brows as you set the teacup down. Seokjin turns to face Mama with the same expression. “What do you mean? I thought that after the amity sessions, we’d be able to go back.”

Mama avoids your gaze as she tucks a set of chopsticks under the wrapped knot. “Well, the amity sessions are not the only thing the headmistress has been looking into, (Y/N). You still have that fire to answer for.”

“This again,” you roll your eyes. Mama glares at you. “Sorry, it’s just you know I didn’t start it. Even Jin knows I didn’t.”

Seokjin remains silent, looking down at his cup of coffee. Mama looks between you and him then raises a brow. “I think poor Jin’s been through enough,” she coos at him before rubbing his shoulder. 

This is unbelievable. You’ve never really talked to him about it, but you just knew that he couldn’t possibly think that little of you, especially after last night. You know what you said, what you indirectly made him promise, but your words can’t erase that memory. Or, at least, it hasn’t for you. And now Mama is coddling him from you. You’re apparently the monster in his life, the conniving serpent that has plagued him and set fire to his stupid dorm. 

Up until now, you’ve regretted snooping around in his room for your letters, regretted even setting foot in his common room. You know you didn’t start that fire, but you’d be happy if you did. It’s the least he deserves for cutting you off from your family and now stealing them right from under you. 

Tilting your head back, you chug whatever is left of your tea. It scorches your tongue, but nothing burns more than the betrayal in your heart. Hopping off your seat, you set the teacup in the sink to be washed by the sponges you’d charmed. Mama senses your shift in demeanour and follows you to the broom closet. 

“He misses his family too, you know,” she says as you grab your broom. “Don’t you remember what it was like to not have your family with you?”

You shut the closet, not bothering to grab Seokjin’s broom for him, and turn to face Mama. “You mean when he stole my letters? He’s the one that should be investigated. You know I didn’t start-”

Mama places her hands on your shoulders, silencing you immediately. To your surprise, she pulls you into her chest and hugs you tightly. “Please, (Y/N),” she whispers. 

You’re not sure what she’s asking of you but you nod anyways. To show her to really understand, the moment she pulls away from you, you open the closet once more and grab his broom as well. She smiles and places a sweet kiss upon your forehead. 

Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, Mama guides you back into the kitchen. “You two take care now,” she smiles. 

You hand Seokjin his broom. He doesn’t even have the decency to thank you. “You’re welcome,” you bitterly spit under your breath. 

He ignores you. 

Mama is halfway up the stairs when she calls out to the both of you to have a great day. You grab your lunch and backpack then make your way to the door. Mounting on your broom, you don’t bother to wait for him and commence your last flight to Witching Wits, a wizarding cafe in the small muggle town nearby. 

Gusts of the wind and the scent of asphalt fills the space between you and Seokjin as you enter the little town. Your brooms are charmed to cloak you in with your environment so you’re invisible to a muggle’s eye. Seokjin doesn’t bother to race you to the roof of the cafe as he usually does. He hasn’t even so much as tossed you a look of any kind. You slow down just to give him a reason to speed up, but he doesn’t take the bait. And when you finally reach the rooftop, and dismount off your brooms, he doesn’t tap the edge of his broom on the green bricked chimney. 

You raise a brow. A line of questioning already forms in your mind, but you decide against voicing it. You don’t care, and why should you? He was the only that brought you into this mess, made you dive into every impulse. This time you’re going to go against your desires and curiosity. Tapping rhythmically on the edge of the chimney, the bricks shift into stairs that descend into the cafe. You lead the way in, not bothering to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s behind you. You’ve had enough of him already. Besides, his footsteps are a clear sign that he’s following along just fine. 

Professor Trelawney is late… again. She hasn’t been on time since these sessions began. You’ve never hated moments alone with Seokjin more than you did today. Wordlessly, you place your broom on the rack by the entrance and find an empty table in the corner. 

The routine is simple enough and you hate to think you’ve grown comfortable with it. You sit across from each other. Notebooks out, quills in hand or laying by an empty page, and Marina, the morning shift’s waitress, jumping back and forth from the counter to your table because she can’t seem to remember that neither of you have ordered anything. 

“Actually,” Seokjin cuts in when you decline to see a menu. “I’ll have a butterbeer with a shot of espresso.”

Face scrunched in disgust, you push past his revolting order and say, “But you already had coffee at home.”

Home. Is it his home? He blinks at the word, furrowing his brows at you. He sure has made it into his home; charming your family, taking your bed, eating your food. 

“I want another,” he shrugs once that disarmed look in his eye disappears. “How about we pretend I never had one to begin with. Would that make you feel better?”

Fear flushes whatever expression previously took over your features. You arch a brow and ask, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin shrugs. He sits back and twirls his quill between his fingers, watching you carefully. 

You cross your legs, draping the short, flowy shirt of your white dress over your thigh. “It must’ve meant something, or you wouldn’t have said it.”

“Does that same logic apply to actions?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to now. Pursing your lips, you bite back any insults that are begging to be thrown at him. Instead of giving into the subject he’s adamant on discussing, you bring up one he’s been avoiding since your arrival. “What was the point in stealing my letters?”

“I could ask you the same question about the fire.”

You huff. Why must he be this difficult? “You know I didn’t start it.”

His shoulders rise and fall again. Those shrugs are starting to really test your patience. On the cusp of tossing Mama’s advice out the window, Professor Trelawney's clunky footsteps echo down the brick staircase. Before she can make her way to your table, you lean in and whisper, “I hate you, I really do, but I’d never put you in that sort of danger, Jin. I’m not deranged.” With how much time you’ve spent thinking about his lips this morning, you might rethink that last claim, but you stay firm on your words. 

Seokjin tilts his head and quirks a brow at your last statement. You throw him a blank stare as Professor Trelawney makes her way towards your table. 

“I know,” he whispers. 

He knows. He knows and you’re still under investigation. Has he told McGonagall this? If he vouches for you then you can’t possibly lose your place at Hogwarts. You don’t have much time to ask him, however, as Professor Trelawney drops her heavy bag on the table. 

“Ah, Morning!” she smiles. Her eyes widen with delight behind those thick rimmed glasses. You hesitantly smile back, sneaking a glance at Seokjin. 

He replies with a quiet, “Good morning, Professor,” before meeting your gaze again. The usual cocky remark, arrogant approach, and amused looks are absent from his, dare you think, kind face. He seems so genuine in his stare that you almost regret asking him to forget about last night. You clearly haven’t. 

Marina returns with Seokjin’s order as Professor Trelawney takes a seat and pulls out her calming crystals. “Oh, is that a butterbeer with an espresso shot?” She asks with curious eyes. Before Marina can confirm, Professor Trelawney says, “I’ll have one too.” 

Seokjin throws you a cocky smirk. A silent “I told you so,” dances in his gaze. You roll your eyes and sit back in your seat. 

As Professor Trelawney continues to line up the crystals, she suggests starting these sessions as you always have. “Deep breath in then out and let the other know something you admire about them.”

You share an annoyed look with Seokjin, sighing deeply when he refuses to start... again. He always pulls the quiet card, knowing you’ll be the first to lose your patience and say something that gets mistaken as an effort to get the ball rolling. 

“Very good, Miss (L/N),” your professor smiles. “But this time add something you like about Mr. Kim.”

You don’t bother correcting her. Instead, you sit up straight and take a deep breath in. On the exhale you say, “I really admire the way you always test my patience.”

Seokjin glares. He inhales deeply then lets out, “I really admire the way you never let things go.”

Marina returns with Professor Trelawney’s order and they share a concerned look as you carry on with the exercise, saying, “I really admire how stupid you are.”

“I admire how annoying you are.”

“I admire your laziness.”

“I admire your cruelty.”

You furrow your brow, ball your fist and bite back the curses threatening to slip out. Cruelty? Didn’t he just say that he believed you’d never actively put him in any danger? Was he just saying anything to try and get you to bend to his every command again? Lips trembling, you reply, “I admire your dishonesty.”

Professor Trelawney takes a sip from her butterbeer, upper lip coated with foam, then lets out a shaky breath. “Well, that was a good start,” she tries her best to smile, setting her cup down. “Given that it’s our last day, let’s try doing this exercise right just once, hmm?”

Mama’s words trickle back to you. You want to make her proud, to continue your studies at Hogwarts, but he’s just so frustrating. And a part of you knows that even if you make an effort to show Professor Trelawney how you’ve progressed these last few days, it wouldn’t change a thing. The results of your investigation are still pending, no thanks to Seokjin.

“Now, let’s try using positives. Mr. Kim, why don’t you start us off this time?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you resist the urge to scoff. He’s been silent since the beginning for a reason. If you give into insults first, he has the excuse of defending himself when he shoots one back. And though you know this every well, it only makes you want to swear at him even more. 

Seokjin huffs, twirling his quill between his fingers. Breathing in deep, he says, “I admire your determination.”

Lies. 

Swallowing your curses, you reply, “I admire your resilience.” 

Seokjin pauses. He tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing. Scanning your features, he seems to be searching for signs of deceit. Expressionless, you stare back. He must’ve interpreted your lack of emotion for sincerity as his gaze softens. Sitting up, he licks his lips to hide a little smile. “I admire your passion.”

When has he ever seen you so passionate? This really is a joke to him; you’re a joke to him. You open your mouth to call him out for his lies when the strangest look surfaces on his face. You’re not certain what it is, but you can tell that it lacks defense and hostility. He’s radiating warmth. Lips in a… kind smile, he awaits your reply. Could he… Could he really be serious?

“I admire your ability to charm a room.”

Perhaps he heard something too raw in your voice, his brows momentarily shooting up. Have you been too honest?

“I admire your honesty.”

You have been too honest. Now, you’ve never been more confused. Does he or does he not believe you? You only wish you can ask. 

Professor Trelawney giggles into her half empty cup. “Well done,” she smiles, more foam coating her upper lip. Neither you nor Seokjin make an effort to let her know, sharing a knowing smile. The professor doesn’t think too much of it, though. She simply assumes her efforts are finally sinking in. 

“Let’s pick up where we left off yesterday.”

You flip back to yesterday's page. The last two weeks have been a series of attempting to compliment each other and recording all the pranks the two of you have pulled during this school year alone. Only two more pages, out of twenty-five, remain. Each of you must state the prank, explain why you did it and why you regret doing it. You have yet to receive an apology for all the crap he’s done to you… you also have yet to issue one yourself. 

“We last stopped with you, Mr. Kim. What’s the next prank on your list?”

Seokjin chews on his lip. “Blonde hair,” he mutters, playfully glaring your way.

Professor Trelawney leans forward. She inspects his hair, asking, “That’s not natural?”

No. What seems to be natural, however, is how good any colour of hair seems to look on him. You had intentionally intended to dye his hair pink. But, when you “accidently” spilled a bit of potion all over his head, he only looked better. The colour didn’t even clash with his red uniform. So, you quickly threw some mint leaves in and spilled some more over his head. Teal looked better than the pink. As a last ditch effort, while Professor Slughorn made his way to you, you tossed some butterscotch strings in and poured it all over his head again. The blonde stuck, striking beauty from every angle. 

“That was not supposed to happen,” you confess with a smile playing on your lips. 

“You poured that disgusting potion on me three times. I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Well, at least something good came from trying to dye his hair. He may have looked good but the potion sure as hell didn’t feel that way. “You mixed up my schedule. I was late for astronomy six times,” you explain as a means of an excuse.

“That’s because you charmed your necklace to hiss at every girl I tried to date.”

You shrug. “Someone needed to warn them how slimy you are.” Professor Trelawney clears her throat. “Were,” you correct. “How slimy you were.”

The professor rubs her temples. “No,” she sighs. “Don’t you have something to say to Mr. Kim?”

You’ll be damned if you apologize first. He’s the one that started all this; he should be the one apologizing. And, if you’re satisfied enough with his groveling, you might consider issuing an apology for your actions as well. 

“For what it’s worth,” you start. Seokjin raises a brow. Professor Trelawney holds her breath. “My plan backfired. I only kept pouring the potion over you because you look great in every colour.” 

An exhausted sigh escapes your professor. She tries to remain positive however, smiling and nodding as she moves the conversation along. “And what about this necklace charming ordeal?”

“What about it?”

“Why did you charm the snakes on your necklace to hiss at his girlfriends?”

You pause. Why did you do that? You remember that it was a week before the Yule ball. Mitch, a fellow Slytherin, was in the middle of asking you something. You don’t exactly remember the details of that conversation. However, you do remember watching Seokjin over Mitch’s shoulder. He was being all too enchanting, courting Rina, who is possibly the kindest Hufflepuff you’d ever met. You remember watching her swoon and watching him notice. 

Your heart festers with a familiar rage. The charming spell comes to you in a hard wave once again, just as it did that day. 

“He reordered my notes,” you lie. 

“That was the excuse you used when you bought four hundred chocolate frogs in my name and released them into the Gryffindor common room,” Seokjin points out.

You avoid his narrowing gaze as both he and Professor Trelawney await the truth. Why did you do that? Why did you do that? The question circles around your head, excuses nowhere to be found. Nothing even really came of it. He ended up going to the ball with Rina anyways. And you went with Jimin since he’s your best friend and the only person you can tolerate being around for an entire night. Had you wanted Seokjin to take you instead? You internally cringe at the thought. 

“I don’t know,” you finally answer.

Silence falls over the table. You can’t meet their eyes, fearing they may see something you’re trying to bury deep within you. Professor Trelawney curls her lips in. Furrowing her brows, she asks, “Well, do you regret your actions?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps it’s the lack of hesitance in your reply, or the firmness in your tone. Either way, Professor Trelawney believes you. She carries along with the session. You and Seokjin go back and forth for the next couple of hours, crossing out every prank you finish addressing. 

Finally, your latest pranks remain. 

“How about we start with how you found out Seokjin had your letters?”

You swallow thickly. This happens to be the choppiest part of your story, according to the headmistress. “Someone,” she had said. “Someone told you?”

“Someone told you?” Professor Trelawney echoes when you repeat yourself to her. 

You nod. 

“Who?” Seokjin immediately questions. 

“Someone.”

“Mitch?”

How the fuck did he know that? Did Mitch tell anyone else? But if he made you promise not to say anything, then why would he go tell others? Setting your jaw, you repeat through gritted teeth, “Someone.” 

“Jimin?”

“No!”

“So, Mitch then?”

How does he keep doing that? You furrow your brows, exhaling sharply from your nose. What’s got him thinking it was Mitch to begin with? Had he maybe overheard Mitch telling you about it in the great hall? But, if that was the case, why didn’t he put in a better effort in hiding them? He just left them unattended in the first drawer of his night table, opened and vulnerable to any other prying eyes.  

Fear of someone else finding out about you and your family returns in sharp pains of your gut. You shift your crossed arms down to your stomach between shaky breaths. “Why are you certain it’s him?”

Seokjin smirks. “You had no problem denying that it was Jimin. Saying it’s not Mitch seems to be a struggle for you.”

It’s your fault for underestimating his intelligence. Yes, you constantly tell him he’s stupid, but you both know that’s not the case. And it’s the fact that you know how smart he is and that he knew better than to steal your personal property and invade your privacy only furthers your hatred towards him. Sighing, you reply, “It doesn’t matter who told me. What I would like to know is why you had to read them?”

All colour drains from his face. “I didn’t.”

You scoff, running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth. It’s vital that you keep your temper in check. You know that if you cause a scene now, you’d only look even guiltier. “Why were the letters opened then?”

“Look, I didn’t read them,” he huffs.

The atmosphere only darkens around your table, thickening with each trembling breath the two of you take. Professor Trelawney hisses at the sight of your auras and begins to flail her hands about, cleansing them from all that negative energy. You know things are starting to get out of control when an entire room of magical creatures look towards your table with concern and confusion. 

Glancing at Seokjin, you can’t help but glare. Everything he’s done, everything he’s said before this point has contradicted itself. He says he believes you, but won’t vouch for you. He says he never read your letters, but opened them anyways. He says the right things before bed, looks the right way, touches you in the right places, but then can’t meet your gaze the next morning. In all fairness, you had told him to forget about last night in so many words. However, his withdrawal from certain conversations is not lost on you. And it is for this reason that you cannot stomach to look at him any longer. 

“I need some air,” you suddenly mutter, cutting Professor Trelawney off. Lost so deep in thought, you hadn’t even realized that she was talking. 

“Alrigh-”

The screech of your chair cuts her off once more. The sad look on her face fills your heart with guilt. You hesitantly rest a hand on her shoulder and mumble, “Thank you for cleansing my aura. I feel a bit better with all that negativity gone.” 

Professor Trelawney smiles up at you. She holds onto your elbow and nods. “Of course, dear. You enjoy your lunch now.”

Forcing a smile, you pull your hand away from your professor. The intimacy is getting more and more uncomfortable. The most feeling you’ve put into anyone else was last night, and that’s not a fact you’re proud to admit. 

In seconds, you’re abandoning all feelings and thoughts. You turn your ink lid close tight and toss it into your bag with all your other things. In your peripherals, you can see Seokjin rushing to do the same. If he thinks he’s going to ruin your only moment alone with excuses, he’s sadly mistaken. Grabbing your lunch, you make your way to the broom rack and take the first familiar broom you see. Up the green brick steps you go, and under the wind you fly away from Witching Wits cafe; away from Kim Seokjin. 

The flight to Doe’s Peak is long, but worth the time. You land atop the highest hill, amongst the tallest grass. You’ve tossed glances behind you all throughout the flight, making sure Seokjin wasn’t following you. Now that you’ve made it though, alone with only the wind’s mocking melodies for company, you partly wish he had followed you. 

Dismounting off your broom, you let it fall by your feet. You’ve snuck away to this hilltop since the first amity session. You needed a breather then too after a heated argument about whether or not you taught Professor Flitwick’s frogs to follow Seokjin around and sing ominous notes every time he entered a room. You did, but no one needed to know that. You let your words get the best of you then too. 

Pulling out a white, red striped sheet from your bag, you shake it out and lay it on the floor. After one too many trips here, you’ve learned to come prepared. Actually, before these amity sessions, you haven’t flown up here in awhile. You used to always run away to this hilltop since it had the best view of the entire muggle town on one side and the country roads on the other. 

A large forest separates the peak from the countryside. As you sit yourself down on the thin blanket and unwrap your lunch, you remember tricking both the country and townspeople that a beast lurked these parts. It was before you realized you had magic. You came on a hiking trip with your family and fell in love with the scenery. You wanted to keep it all to yourself, so you attempted to roar into the forest. You were only seven; how were you supposed to know that you’d sound more like a bear than you intended to? By some twist of fate or another, you got what you wanted: an eyeful of scenery for your viewing only. 

You face the town now, watching the muggles bustle around in the distance. With a mouthful of kimbap, you pull your portable green radio out of your bag and flick it to life. A reply of the last quidditch game sounds. Slytherin against Gryffindor. Hearing the game all over again, you can’t help but sigh. You should’ve been there, batting bludgers towards Seokjin. He’s a seeker, but that’s never stopped you from swinging your bat towards him before. 

“Slytherin scores again! Gryffindor’s only chance to win now lies with the golden snit-”

You switch the radio off with a wave of your hand. Another second of this rerun and you might just chuck the radio down the hill. 

The wooden sign at the edge of the hilltop creaks from the forces of the wind. Shoving the last piece of kimbap into your mouth, you glance up at it. The hill was named Theodore’s Peak, but the other letters had fallen off long before you were born. Now, despite the discolored outline of the previous letters, the sign reads Doe’s Peak. 

It’s a bit ironic, you think as you scarf down the last little bits of egg in your lunch box. The hill belongs to you and your patronus is a doe. Now, if only Seokjin could let that go. 

Ah, Seokjin. Why can’t you go a single moment without his name on the tip of your tongue? Is he really that infuriating, that intoxicating that he needs to be entrenched in your every thought? Full of anger and frustration, you look back out at the town and inhale deeply. On the exhale, you scream at the top of your lungs. Screwing your eyes shut tight, you let every drop of rage out in a long scream. 

When you’re done, you shut your bento box, wrap it up tight and push it aside. You, then, mentally vow to go the rest of this lunch not thinking about Kim Seokjin while reaching into your bag to search for your peach. If this is to be your last few moments as a witch, the results of your investigation still pending, then you’ll spend them admiring your favourite place, alon-

A snap of a branch chills your blood. No one dares hike through the woods. You slowly turn your head down to the forest. Squinting, you notice a figure trying, and failing, to hide behind a tree trunk. Clenching your jaw, you attempt to swallow your anger. But then he laughs. 

“Get lost, gerbil face!” You shout. 

“What?”

“GET LOST!”

“COME UP?”

He’s doing this on purpose. Before you can yell curses, he flies up to where you are, dismounting by your broom. You roll your eyes, finally grabbing hold of your peach in your bag and pulling it out. Your bag tips over, but you pay it no mind. You’re all too consumed by Seokjin and his returning cocky smirk. 

“Get lost,” you repeat before taking a big bite out of your fruit. You don’t bother to spare a glance up at him.

Seokjin takes this as an invitation to sit. His eyes flicker from your bag to you. “You took my broom.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “So, you hid down there and watched me eat?” You ask around your food. 

“I’m not some creep.”

“You did follow me up here.”

He lets out a flustered sigh, looking out into the town. “I heard you yelling. Forgive me for wanting to make sure you were okay.” Tone drenched in sarcasm, he avoids your confused gaze. 

You open your mouth to call bullshit, but pause. Though you’d hate to admit it, that does sound like something he’d do. He’s a douchebag, but an honourable one. No matter how much he hates you, he’d never let you face a dangerous situation alone. Or, at least, you hope he wouldn’t. So, instead of insulting him or calling him a liar, you take another bite of your peach.  

“You come up here a lot?” He asks. 

You ignore him. 

He hums quietly. Then, reaches his hand back. “Is this why?”

Mid eye roll, mid chew, you freeze. He holds your dark green dildo in his hand, examining it in the bright afternoon sun like it’s some rock he found laying around. You know it’s big, having selected it on it’s size alone, but it looks small in his hand. You drop your peach, choke on the bites you try to swallow and lunge to grab that toy out of his hand. The only reason you’ve kept it in your bag was to keep it out of his sight. 

Seokjin laughs as he holds it high out of your reach. You scamper around over his lap like a little dog in desperate need for a treat. “Down, girl,” he teases with a smirk. 

Your arousal instantly pools between your legs at the reference. Though riddled with humiliation, you can’t fight the angry desire coursing through your veins. One of your peach juice stained hands suddenly wraps around his neck. You gently squeeze, ignoring the shudder of pleasure that runs down your spine at the gulp of his adam’s apple. 

Eyes locking, he raises a brow. Is that a challenge? Does he not think you can squeeze any harder? Despite being fueled by rage, you only just tighten your grip around his neck. 

He scoffs. 

You add your other hand, threatening, “I’ll do it.”

He smirks. “I dare you.”

Without much hesitance, your grip tightens. Seokjin moans. A gasp escapes you, turning his pleased groans into laughter. He just needs one hand to push both yours off him. Then your throat is caught in his grasp. He squeezes without warning, smirking down at you as he whispers, “That’s how you choke a brat.”

Chest heaving, straggled moans pour out of you. Seokjin must’ve thought the buttoned dress was too constricting around your breasts. He raises his brows as he looks down at your cleavage and grazes the buttons. You take this as a silent request to continue. Against your better judgement and the anger that wants to tear him apart, you nod. 

He wastes no time on anymore reassurances. Button after button is unclasped. Your bra becomes more and more exposed. His grip tightens as the sleeves fall off your shoulder. He reaches behind you, hovering his lips over yours, and loosens your bra. Exchanging his breath for yours, he purrs, “Take it off.”

“You want it off so bad; you take it off.” 

Echoing his words from last night, with your own variation of course, is possibly the deadliest thing you could do. Seokjin pulls your bra down, the straps falling off your shoulder too, and slaps one of your breasts. 

You hiss, glaring at him. He takes the look as another challenge, smacking your other breast much harder than the last. 

“Jin!” 

His gaze lacks remorse. With another couple of slaps on each breast, he seethes, “Take the bra off.”

You huff through your nose. He tightens his grip. There’s only so much of this you can resist. Licking your lips, you push the sleeves of your dress off to finally remove your bra. Though your top half is exposed, the cool, late spring breeze hardening your nipples, your bottom half is still concealed under the skirt of your dress. 

Seokjin releases your throat with a shove. You fall back on your elbows with a squeal. There hasn’t been a moment, a word hissed, a breath exchanged that you haven’t glared at him for. Sitting up, you have every intention of shoving him back. However, the moment you push yourself up, your lips find his. You want to say that you fought as hard as he did to be the one to have the upper hand, but you know you can’t. Not even a half-hearted effort was put into being the one to leer over the other. You surrendered within seconds, laying back down on the sheet as his frame hovered over yours. 

He breaks the kiss and stretches his head back. You follow the silent command, instantly latching your wet lips onto his soft skin. You kiss, suck, lick at the sensitive flesh of his neck as he trails a hand down to your pussy. A little chuckle escapes him when he finds that you’re pantiless. 

“Were you hoping I’d find you?” he asks. You bite down on his collarbone, earning yourself a smack on you pussy. “No panties and a fucking toy,” he whispers. “If you wanted me this badly, you should’ve just said so.”

Why does he have to waste such precious time running his mouth? You’re both needy for a fuck. Why won’t he just let that be it? There doesn’t have to be some sort of secret meaning hidden within every kiss received or touch offered. 

Pulling your face out of the crook of his neck, you part your lips to tell him to just shut up and fuck you, when he adds, “That’s why you scared Rina away, right? And the others too?” 

You flinch upon hearing her name. 

Seokjin smirks. He cups your pussy and hums a quiet moan at the wet heat it radiates. “I really didn’t think you were the jealous type.”

You’re so ashamed, you can’t even meet his gaze to glare at him. Burying your face back into the crook of his neck, your clutch onto his broad shoulders and seethe, “Shut up.”

He pets your clit one stroke at a time. Eyes rolling back, you lean into his frame and hold on tight. You know he’s being gentle now, but if you learned anything from last night, it’s that Seokjin’s mood changes with the wind. His free hand wraps around you, further pressing your body into his. Only when your bare breasts are smushed against his covered chest do you realize that he’s still fully clothed. He’s never looked better in a white shirt and some jeans but you’d just wish he’d stop with all these games and strip enough to fuck you already. 

Cupping your pussy again, he asks, “Do you want my cock, Little Doe?” You roll your hips into his hand and eagerly nod. Seokjin tightens his hold on your heat, drawing a little grunt out of you. “Then, answer the question, you dirty slut.”

“Yes, I want you,” you sigh, answering the second question. Though you know that’s not what he wanted you to reply to, you hope your lack of hesitance to confess other truths would be enough to end this line of questioning all together. 

It’s not. 

That hand he has on the small of your back, cradling you close to his frame, shoots up to your hair. He tugs on it, pulling your face out from the crook of his neck. You cry out in surprise. Shame rises from your gut at the realization that you love this rough act more than you should. Craning your neck more than necessary, he whispers against your lips, “Just be a good fucking girl for once, you pathetic brat, and tell me the truth.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shaky breath. You might have to admit your most shameful secret, but you refuse to look him in the eye while doing it. “Fine,” you huff. Voice trembling, you admit, “I was jealous.” 

Seokjin places a soft kiss on your chin, a stark contrast to the rough grip he has on both your pussy and hair. “Good,” he mutters against your jawline. “Now, look me in the eye and say it again.”

A new rush of arousal pools into his hand. You feel him smirk against your skin. He knows all too well about your infatuation to be humiliated not to draw out every second of it. 

You slowly open your eyes to meet his amused ones. “I was jealous,” you repeat with a shudder. The words sound even more pathetic the second time around. The little cracks in your voice don’t soothe the sting of that fact. “I hate you.”

Seokjin smiles. “Don’t ruin all your progress now, Little Doe. You were doing so well.”

“Fuckin-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. You don’t even have the strength within you to not give into him. What more do you have to stand for? Your pride? He’s clearly trampled all over it. Your hatred? You’re slowly starting to question the legitimacy of that feeling because kissing him has made you feel refreshed with giddy desire. And feeling him has ignited every nerve on fire. It feels similar to hate, you know it does. It twists your guts and crushes your heart. It weighs down on your chest and shatters any belief in any other possibility but him. When he kisses you, when he holds you, when he plays with you like this, all you can believe in is him.

The harsh grip on your scalp softens and softens until it’s no more. His hand releases your hair and trails around to your chin. He holds you by your jaw as he lays you down on the sheet. After another soft kiss, he removes his hand from your pussy and reaches for that long, smooth curved dildo instead. Much to his amusement, a little giggle escapes you. Your defenses have fallen sometime between the first use of slut and that second kiss. You should be ashamed by the fact that you’re visibly eager to be ruined by him but you aren’t. In fact, you relish in the fact that you’re excited for him to see you so vulnerable, so submissive. And he seems to enjoy that too.

Seokjin leers over you with a little smile. He pulls your jaw open and shoves the toy into your mouth. You hold his gaze while swirling your tongue around the heavy object. He pushes your hair back, admiring the way you gag every time he shoves the toy further into your mouth without warning. Tears only just prick your eyes when he finally pulls it out

“Was that too much?”

You shake your head. 

He nods and moves the toy down. You spread your legs wider in anticipation. The two of you watch as he runs the side of the dildo between your folds before pushing it in. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, you rest your head back down on the ground. Your pussy’s already clenching around it. His other hand wanders around your torso, slapping and groping your breasts. With your arms up over your head, you roll your hips up into his hand, desperate to make him move the dildo or, at the very least, turn it on. 

“You want me to move it?” 

“Yes.”

He smirks. “Suck my dick.”

Your eyes widen, glancing between him and his crotch. “The whole thing?” The moment the question leaves your lips, you internally cringe. The whole thing, you mockingly think. Why the fuck would he want half his dick sucked? 

Seokjin chuckles. “If you think you can take it, yeah.” He nods down to his belt and says, “The whole thing.”

You gulp. Though the task is daunting, you can’t ignore how empty your throat feels. Chewing on your lip, you undo his pants and push it down to his knees with his underwear as well. His huge cock springs out, smacking you in the face. 

“Ah~,” you gasp. 

He only chuckles, positioning the tip in your already open mouth. Maybe he’s getting impatient, or maybe he just likes the fact that the moment his dick seems to appear, your jaw drops. Either way, you start sucking on his tip, swallowing his precum, and he watches you, a pleased smirk plastered on his face.

Propping up on your elbows, you level your face with his hips. It’s a bit easier to suck him off now, but you don’t dare get carried away. Already your jaw aches from his weight alone. Sucking and slurping, you lose yourself in your task to even realize that the toy’s moving inside you. 

It’s not enough. It’s not the same. With his cock in your mouth, his girth and a quarter of his length down your throat, you just know that nothing can compare to this. That dildo, the one you’ve been using for a couple of years now, the one that has made you squirt more times than you can count, only seems like a poor excuse for a toy now. 

You bring your hand up to his cock, pulling him out of your mouth for a breather. Quiet moans escape you, but it’s mainly due to the way he tastes. Jerking him off, you look up at him, pout your lips and ask, “Turn it on?”

Bringing his brows together, Seokjin licks his lips. “It turns on?”

You nod. He starts to shake his head at your request, but you open your mouth once more and smack his tip on your tongue. He pauses. You do it again and again, moaning erotically in hopes that the image would be pronogrpahic enough for him to finally agree. 

For once, your plan works. 

Seokjin mutters, “Turn it on then.” 

You squeal in delight, waving a hand down towards your crotch to get the dildo started. It hums loudly, vibrating harshly against your walls as you set it to the highest intensity. He raises a brow down at the toy. 

Worried he’d catch onto your actions, you quickly return to your ordered task. You deep-throat as much of him as you can without much of a warning and pump the rest of his cock at a quick, harsh pace. All the while, you're holding his gaze. However, even with the sight of tears streaming down your face and a mouthful of dick, Seokjin remains sharp and focused. 

The moment you turned that vibrator on, he ceased all movements. Holding it still in your pussy, he watches you devour his cock to overcompensate for the fact that you indirectly disobey him. But judging by the cocky look in his eyes, you’re starting to think this is exactly what he thought would happen. 

Realization hits you, mid-slurp, and you stop all movements. Warming his cock in your throat, you glare up at him through your blurry vision. This entire time you’ve been playing right into his hand. And why are you even taken aback by this discovery? You know you love it. He knows you love it. Why are you finding that so hard to admit yourself?

You’re about to pull him out but he holds onto the back of your head and pushes you back down on him. Gags vibrate around his cock at the same rate the toy buzzes in you. It’s uncontrollable and all he does is grunt and growl, throwing his head back. Seokjin knows he’s pushing your limits right now, but he doesn’t seem to care. Only when you grip onto his thigh does he let you go. 

Wet and slobbery, you swallow mouthfuls of oxygen even while his tip rests on your tongue. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were the toy in this situation, not whatever’s vibrating in your pussy right now. 

Seokjin takes the dildo out of you while gently nudging you to lay back down. “You’ll be a good girl now? You won’t try anything else?”

You scoff. “How is it fair that you get to play around all you want?”

Holding your gaze, he presses the edge of the toy against your clit. You instantly cry out and roll your hips into it. He then pulls it away and watches you whine and huff in frustration. 

“That’s why.” 

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you roll your eyes. “I can do that too.”

“You already did,” he points out, referring to your little attempt to try to distract him from the fact that you turned it on to any intensity you wanted. “Do I need to remind you how that turned out for you?”

Then it hits you. He wasn’t playing around; he was punishing you. A string of curses loops in your mind at how stupid you’ve been. You should’ve tried to humiliate him back, degrade him just as well as he had degraded you. You shouldn’t have inflated his ego like this. You shouldn’t have disregarded the one thing that has kept him in your life for this long; your pride. 

Crossing your arms under your breasts, consequently pushing them together, you reply, “Do I need to remind you that you’re just as horny as I am?” Seokjin circles around your head so that he is leering right above you. You have to lean your head back to talk to him as you continue. “I know how hard you are, Jin. I know how badl-”

Seokjin cuts you off by smearing his tip over your lips. You fall silent. Staring up at him, you try to resist the urge to lick your lips. You do, however, open your mouth wide without being asked to. Though you tell yourself that you’re doing this because you want to, though you know deep down that everything you do is for him. 

He spares no time with words. The moment you open your mouth, he leans forward and pushes his cock down your throat. His weighty balls fall against your forehead and large hands reach for your breasts to mount himself. He doesn’t move; he simply sits over your head while your throat keeps his cock warm.

He doesn’t fit. It doesn’t stop him from squeezing himself in. Your throat burns. The gags and tears don’t bother him. Your hands on his thighs, nails digging into his flesh, doesn’t faze him. The fact that he doesn’t fit isn’t an issue in his mind. He probably won’t fit in your pussy, but you both know that won’t stop him either. 

As you choke on him, throat constricting, swallowing his length upon command, he grabs the vibrating dildo somewhere by your head and presses it against your clit once more. You can’t even moan with his cock this far down your throat. Your hips spasm, though, and legs tremble. You roll into the toy, squirming under his body. 

“You really need a mouthful of dick to follow orders?” He asks over your gags and the buzzes of the vibrator. Slowly, he starts to pull out of you.

You want to say the first sound to escape you the moment he’s out is a gasp for fresh air, but you can’t. You moan instead. You moan his name. The denial will never die, so long as the truth is this obvious. Every breath you spend on him rather than yourself only further proves that fact. 

He stays hovering behind your head, cock perched against your cheek, as he continues to get you off from this angle. Little chuckles fill the space between you with every desperate, broken moan of his name that pours out of you. Your panting, your throat’s aching, and yet all you can think, all you can say is “Jin, Jin, Jin.”

Pussy clenching, hips buckling, your orgasm nears. Looking up at him, you find his attention is locked on your crotch. A little smile tugs on your lips with that familiar sense of pride blushing in your chest. Captivating him like this turns you on too much to be able to soundly admit. Something about making him happy, making him lose himself over you makes you proud. Maybe you just like the attention, you tell yourself while wrapping your hand around his cock. 

Curious and dark, his eyes snap back to yours. Moaning against his length, you stare up at him innocently. What’s the use of fighting your need for him… when he’s controlling that vibrator? As long as he’s in control, you know you’re going to have to give into every order blindly, especially if you want to cum. You tell yourself that you’ll do what he says because you haven’t had a good fucking in a while then push any opposing arguments to the side. 

Seokjin smiks. “Close, Little Doe?” 

So very close. You can’t hide the quaking of your legs. You’re just glad he’s not sitting near your pussy or he’d be able to see how much it quivers for him. Sucking harshly on his tip, you nod and hum, “Mhm.”

Your gasps are breathless, moans desperate as you feel your orgasm threaten to take over. Shutting your eyes, you throw your head back and-

“No!”

His obnoxious laugh meets your ears. You cry out curses as you sit yourself up and turn to look at him. Face blotched with tears, spit and precum, you glare at him. “You fucker!”

He only laughs harder. Having had enough of his games, you reach for the vibrator. You don’t need him; you can do it yourself… if he’ll let you, that is. Seokjin holds the toy out of reach once more when you attempt to grab it out of his hands. 

“I was so close!” You whine, clutching onto the collar of his shirt. 

Mocking your whines, he grabs onto your ass to keep you still. Your eyes then widen, the tip of his erection poking at your stomach. With the two of you now on your knees, battling for the upper hand, the desire to have him in you only intensifies. Your dress pools around your knees as you straighten your posture. The act of hooking a leg around his waist to jump on his cock is all too tempting. The fast murmurs of the vibrator is long forgotten now that all your mind can think about is how easy it would be to take what you want. That’s what he has been doing this whole time anyways, right?

Eyes dark and drenched in dominance, he smiles. He really thinks he’s won, that he’s got you wrapped around his finger. From a single glance, you know he believes you’ll do anything for him. And maybe if he hadn’t edged you that hard, you would’ve played right into his hand again. But, he got drunk off this control and it’s about time you reclaim it. 

You may be naked, but you’re about to uncover every single one of his cocky glances and sly smirks. Destruction is your goal. 

Softening your gaze, you pout your lips and press them to his chin. Seokjin stiffens. His grin falls. He brings his brows together and watches you carefully. You arch your back to push your ass further into his hand. Mewling against his jawline, you release his shirt and slither a hand to his neck. 

Seokjin scoffs and lowers his hand, dropping the vibrator. Both his hands cup the underside of your ass, lifting you up and spreading your legs enough to position his cock between your folds. Biting back a smirk, you slither your other hand through his long, pulled back hair and exaggerate an innocent whine. He eats it up, rolling his hips into yours. 

The little bit of friction against your clit only derails you for a second as your breath hitches. He’s getting too comfortable with this feigned submissive state you’re displaying. When he starts to massage your cheeks, you know you’ve got him hooked. He’s too vulnerable to predict your next move.

As his eyes flutter close and he leans in for a kiss, you grab onto his throat. His eyes shoot open, but it’s too late. You pull his head back by the grip on his hair and dig your nails into his neck. Bearing your teeth, you graze and nibble on his jawline. He spanks you as a means of retaliation, but the gasp that escapes you only adds to your anger. 

“You really thought you could get away with that?” You question while tightening your grip on his throat. Seokjin gulps. You giggle when you feel his adam’s apple bob under your palm. “You should’ve let me cum, you pathetic slut.”

Using his words against him only seems to humour the situation. He laughs, trying to look at you despite the fact that you’re holding his head back. “Let me go before I lose my patience, Little Doe,” he rasps. 

You’re the one that has a hold on him. He can’t tell you what to do. How does he even have the guts to taunt you when you’ve got him in such a degrading position. You clench your jaw and grunt. 

“I won’t tell you again.” The humor in his tone has disappeared. 

Huffing, you raise a brow. If you need to assure your dominance over him, then that’s exactly what you’ll do. Gathering your saliva, you spit over his lips. He flinches. “Lie the fuck down,” you order. 

Seokjin darts his tongue out and licks his lips. Sighing, he whispers, “I’ll tell you what. If you can lay me down yourself, without using magic, I’ll apologize for everything.”

That tool. He must think the least of you if he’s willing to bargain this much. You’re about to tell him to shut up and do as you say, but then he smirks. He really believes you can’t do it. Anger doesn’t fully encompass your feelings towards him, and neither does rage at this point. You’re livid. Heart pumping a vicious dose of spite and pride, you release his throat and attempt to shove him down by his shoulders.  

He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even pretend to be affected. You should’ve known better than you push him by his strongest point. His shoulders are massive; of course, they’d keep him up. Your next attempt focuses on his chest as you try to shove him down from there. Seokjin chuckles, biting his lip to keep the rest of his laughter in. 

“Just give up,” you shout while trying to climb over him. The hope of your body weight being enough of a factor to bring him down, backfires. Now you’re the one locked in his grip. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, breasts in his face. 

“I was just about to say the same thing to you,” he smiles. 

You let go of his hair. Both hands grip onto his shoulders as you watch his messy hair come undone. A few strands fall over his eyes. From this angle, with his long hair everywhere and chin leaning into your breasts, he looks harmless, perhaps even enchanting. He’s beautiful. That’s a fact you can never deny. It’s been true the moment you saw him all those years ago and it’s true now. But that amount of dominance is all your pride is willing to accept at this point. 

Pushing those soft strands of hair out of his face, you whisper, “Lay down, Jin.”

Seokjin shakes his head, nuzzling his face between your breasts. Your breath hitches as he makes himself comfortable by kissing and biting just under each tit; your most sensitive areas. Eyes fluttering shut, head falling back, you let yourself get lost in the gentle pleasure for a moment. But then, his teeth graze your skin a little bit harder than necessary. 

Your eyes snap open, hands rushing through his hair to pull his head back. Glaring down at him, you’re about to scold him for thinking he can take over you like that and not expect to be punished. Little do you know, he’s thinking the same exact thing. 

Before you can even part your lips, Seokjin’s patience has disappeared. He lays you down with ease, making quick work of pinning your hands over your head. You grunt and roll your hips against his stomach as a means to push him off, or so you tell yourself. Seokjin only plays into it as he rolls his body back into you. He chuckles when he feels your pussy quiver from the slightest bit of friction. You're too needy to put up more of a fight for your control back. And while that fact has already come and gone for Seokjin, you’re still making your peace with it. 

“You’re so fucking lucky you’re this cute,” he purrs. “Or I would’ve pounded that attitude out of you the first time you acted out.”

It’s condescending, absolutely degrading, yet you’re gushing for more. Pussy throbbing, you whine and attempt to pull your wrists out of his hold. You don’t make much progress. Seokjin smirks down at you. He leans in for a kiss and the temptation to give in returns. It trickles into your heart in quiet whispers. However,  your pride is louder, slithering into your soul in booming echoes. So as his lips near yours, instead of puckering, you spit. 

He flinches. “I was so close to forgiving you, Little Doe.”

“I haven’t apologized.”

“Yet.” 

You part your lips to tell him to go to hell, when suddenly you're turned over. Face smushed into the ground, body flat but ass up and hands held behind you, you’re entirely at his mercy. A soft cloth, you can only guess was the wrap of your lunch box, finds its way around your wrists, binding them tightly. 

“Ji- Ah~”

The smack of his hand coming down on your ass echoes in the vacant space. With your face towards the cityscape, you can see a few people look around for the source. If a single person glances up at the peak, they’d find your naked body completely submissive to Seokjin’s clothed one. The risk causes your arousal to tickle down your thigh.

Whether or not Seokjin is aware of the fact that he’s calling the attention of an audience doesn’t matter much to you. And even if it did and you wanted to ask him about it, you wouldn’t have the chance. After another spank, Seokjin pushes your asscheeks up and apart to bury his tongue in your pussy. You circle your hips at the warm sensation of his mouth against your heat. Moans and curses mixed with praises pour out of you as he sips on every wet drop of yours. He groans at the taste, completely entrenched in your needy pussy to pull away. 

“Oh, yes, there, you fucker,” you moan as his tongue swipes between your folds. Another spank meets your ass at the insult. You cry out a moan, but don’t care enough to stop. “That’s cute,” you whine. Though your words may be condescending, your tone betrays your intentions. You sound more broken and needy than ever. Each word sounds more like a plea rather than an insult.

Seokjin rather heard the former. He laps up a good amount of your wetness, then brings his glistening lips up to your asshole. After spitting the wet mixture over your hole, he reaches for the abandoned, still buzzing vibrator. 

“Ever use this in your ass?” He asks while swirling the spit mixed juices around your hole with the tip of the vibrator. 

You shudder a whine, fisting your hands to keep yourself focused. “No,” you sigh. “The most I’ve put in is two fingers.”

Seokjin chuckles as he pushes the tip in a good inch or two. You squeal loudly and screw your eyes shut from the buzzing, blissfully burning sensation of the vibrator’s stretch. “Well, after today you can say you’ve put in a bit more than that.”

As he massages your cheeks, tongue relatching onto your heat, you realize you really are just a toy to him, a little play thing, a set of holes to entertain him. And you should hate him for that, hate him for stealing your things, for reading your secrets, for making you love him all these years, but you don’t. You can’t hate someone as wonderfully prideful as you. You can’t despise his hardheaded tendencies or the fact that he must always be right. Because, though these traits may get you in some trouble, they’re possibly your favourite things about yourself. You love the challenge of proving yourself, and you know he does too. And of all the stupid men you’ve been with, Seokjin’s the only one that understands how to pleasure you, to provoke you beyond repair. 

The more you think about everything you’ve done to him out of spite and everything he’s done to you in return, the more you crave his cock. Pushing back against his lips, you hiss, “When the fuck are you planning to fuck me?”

He sits back and lets his hand take over his tongue’s work. Two fingers rub between your folds and tease your entrance as he replies, “Think you can take the whole thing, Little Doe?” 

Just when you were thinking you actually love the guy, he goes and throws your words back in your face. You’re starting to wonder if you’re insane for wanting him even more now. “Why don’t you stick it in and find out, you fucking thief,” you reply between quiet moans. 

His grip on your ass softens and he takes his fingers out at the reference. Though your heart’s telling you to drop it and charm him once more, your pride encourages you to continue. “Maybe this pussy might fuck some honour back in you. Maybe you’ll learn not to take what isn’t yours.”

That harsh hold returns. Both his hands grab onto your ass in a deadly grip as he darkly chuckles and asks, “What makes you think I’m the one being taught a lesson? Aren’t you the one tied up?”

His questions are irreverent, you tell yourself. With that vibrator in your ass and your pussy empty of his touch, all you can think about is how badly you need to be filled. “You annoying little shit,” you hiss over your shoulder. “Just fuck me already.” 

He smacks your pussy, making you cry out his name like the slut you know you are for him. “Watch your mouth, whore,” he warns. His voice is heavy with lust and dominance. You can’t help but push your hips back towards him from his tone alone. “Or, I swear, I’ll make you sorry you ever talked to me seven years ago.”

“You fucker! You spoke to me first!” 

“Are you serious right now? I’m threatening to fuck the shit out of you and you want to argue about who spoke to who first?” 

You huff a shaky breath. “You’re avoiding the topic because you know you’re wrong.”

“You just love lying, don’t you?”

How the fuck are you the liar? Fighting against the restraints, you explain over your shoulder, “I was minding my own business in my compartment and your dumbass-”

Seokjin shoves the half-eaten peach in your mouth, cutting you off. You bite into it to get a piece out so the rest could fall, but you end up hitting the pit. Chin sticky with peach juice, you scream into the fruit and try to glare at him over your shoulder. Seokjin simply pushes your face into the ground, leans over your flattened body and purrs, “I’ve heard enough from you, slut. Lying, screaming. You even think you can boss me around.” He chuckles a bit at his last sentence before continuing, “You’re going to apologize to me, (Y/N).” 

“Never!” You scream into the peach. However, all he hears is a two syllable grunt. 

No matter. The fact that you spoke back is enough to spur him on. He let’s go of your head and sits back up. You go to lift your head off the ground, but he pulls your hips up before you have the chance. He positions his cock between your folds then aligns it with your entrance. You only have the opportunity to suck in half a breath before he’s pushing himself in. 

You were right before to assume he wouldn’t fit. His girth alone is thick enough to make you cry into the fruit with every bit he further attempts to slide in. The stretch is so sweet, so harsh. You’re obsessed with how fucking big he is and how well he makes room for himself between your walls. Peach juice and drool runs down your chin, your neck, and stains the sheet. A mewling, sticky mess already and he’s not even halfway in. You need to stop losing yourself over him though, if you intend on keeping your apologies to yourself.

However, the vibrator partly lodged in your ass is not helping your attempt to stay still and sane. And every inch he continues to push in has you rolling eyes. Is it humiliating to admit you want this everyday, every night, every moment of your life? Is it disgraceful to wish he was yours always? Is it unreasonable to want to be his one and only? Him, him, him. All you want, all you crave is more him. 

He finally bottoms out. Maybe you’re whipped for his dick, or too horny to think straight, but you can almost certainly swear on both your lives that the imprint of his cock is bulging from your stomach. You can feel it against the floor. The realization makes you shudder and whimper into the fruit. 

“Tightest fucking cunt,” he whispers to himself. He then suddenly leans over your body, his stomach nudging the vibrator in a bit more, and kisses up your spine. A bundle of shivering nerves follow his trail up to the curve of your ear. “You know,” he starts in a whisper. “You look a lot like a little annoyed kitten when you’re angry.” 

You scratch at his stomach from your constrained position and groan into the peach. 

“See?” He darkly chuckles. “I live to see your nose twitch and eyes go dark whenever I piss you off. You just look so cute, Little Doe.” Hips pulling back, he continues, “I just can’t resist.”

“Fuck you.”

The clap of skin on skin is enough of a reply. Your eyes roll back and jaw clenches, teeth clattering against the peach pit. He starts slow, breathing heavily in your ear, making you clench around his cock for more. But then, he straightens his posture and holds onto your hands to build some momentum. With his heavy balls smacking against your clit as he speeds up, the most you can do is muffle your moans and whines into the fruit and pray you’ll mentally survive this. 

It’s all too good to be true. His length hits all the right places and then some, bringing grateful tears in your eyes that you’re thankful he can’t see. If he knew you were slowly becoming a sobbing mess for his cock too, then he’d never let you live it down. 

Seokjin then lets go of your hands, leaving you grabbing at the air, and shifts his hold to your ass. Using the meat of your cheeks, he pulls you forward and back to meet him halfway. He groans your name with every smack of his hips against your ass. You’re dripping off his tongue, entrenched in his very being by the way he chants your name. And though you’re the one tied and gagged like a suckling pig, utterly submitting to him and his dominance, the fact that he’s high off you is enough validation of power for you to enjoy his cock guilt-free. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

You whine back without much thought. Only when he pounds into you three more times does your mind catch up to his word. Beautiful? Did he just call you beautiful? Was that supposed to be demeaning? Because, even if it wasn’t, you seem to be getting closer and closer to your high. 

You grunt a broken question into the fruit. Seokjin pushes in deep and leans over your body once more. Placing a soft kiss to your cheek, he takes out the mulled peach and asks, “What was that, Little Doe?”

“Do you mean it?”

The question trickles out of you in cracked cries of pleasure. And though you may sound weak and dick-hungry, the question is still strong enough to stun him. Soon, however, his senses find him once more. Circling his hips into your ass, cock swirling your juices deep within you and rubbing against your needy walls, he repeats in a dark whisper, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

And as you moan his name in affirmation, he continues his thrusts in and out of you. The pace is slower than before, but the force is just as brutal. 

Seokjin takes a bite from the peach. In fact, it’s the same bite you took, only he avoids the pit. He then sticks half the piece out of his mouth, holding it out for you. You meet his lips halfway, taking a bite off while kissing him. The juices smear down both your faces, but you’re all too consumed with the filthy act of exchanging saliva to care. 

Pulling away, Seokjin holds your chin until you finish chewing and swallowing the piece. “Why couldn’t you swallow my cum like that last night?” He playfully asks. 

“I didn’t know-” You cut yourself off, the realization of your words catching up to your mind just in time. 

He raises a brow, ramming his hips even harder into you. “Didn’t know what, Little Doe?”

You shake your head. 

Seokjin drops the peach and grabs your hair. “Tell me.”

“No,” you mewl. 

“Tell me or I won’t let you cum.” 

The threat is enough to give you pause, but not nearly enough to make you confess. Then, he stills his hips mid thrusts and ups the stakes. “Tell me, Little Doe, and I’ll tell you the truth about the letters.”

The letters. The offer is more than tempting, but how can you be sure it's real? You swallow thickly, trying to sneak a good look at him in your peripherals. From the glances you’re able to get, you can tell that he’s serious. Gulping every fear and nag of your pride, you push your ego aside and confess, “I didn’t know I was in love with you then.” 

Seokjin pauses for a moment. He releases your hair then sighs. Have you said too much? Before you can really think about it, he presses a wet kiss to your cheek and continues with his movements into you. “I love you too, my little slut,” he purrs before returning to his previous position behind you. 

His little slut. You’re all his. However, you don’t have much time to relish over this newfound information as he takes up a speed you’ve never experienced before. He’s harsh and his cock viciously rams in and out of you while pushing the vibrating dildo further into your ass. You cry out a broken sob and nuzzle your tear and peach juice stained face into the sheet.

Your pussy tightens around his cock as you edge your orgasm. “C-Can I?” You ask, fearful he’ll deny you the truth if you don’t, or so you try to convince your ego that. 

“Of course, Little Doe,” he grunts. “I’m no liar.”

You want to dive into his words, the meanings behind them and why he chose now, of all the times, to tell you that. But, with your orgasm taking over, all you can focus on is trying to breathe. Eyes rolling back and twitching, mouth hung open, ears like sirens with their ringing, and pussy gushing, you reach your peak. Crying out his name, you cum all over his cock. 

Seokjin is relentless. He does not still his hips for a split second. In and out, he dives. He’s adamant on riding you through this and reaching his own high as well. “Tell me again,” he orders. “Tell me how you feel again, baby.”

Destruction is your goal, but you never thought to be at the receiving end of it. Your mind feels foggy, heart racing and pussy aching with that sweet relief of releasing all you have for him.  And though you might have thought that that second time you confess your feelings to him might break you, you find that it gives you strength instead. 

“I love you,” you breathlessly cry. 

You just finish the confession when he pulls in deep and shoots ropes of his cum into you. The tears in your eyes have no bounds. The stimulation is proving to be too much as you squirm in place. Seokjin quietly shushes you while grinding into your pussy to sprout every last drop into you. 

“Please, please,” you tremble. “It’s too mu-ch, Jin.”

Seokjin pulls the dildo out of your ass, and turns it off before tossing it near your head. With his cock still deep in you, he unbinds your hands. You bring your hands to either side of your head, sighing at the relief of the strain. Then, finally, he slowly pulls out of you. You let out a staggered whimper and close your eyes to try to contain yourself from crying out once more. You’re sure at this point that a few people must’ve seen you. You’re in the broad daylight, laying on the highest hill and screaming at the top of your lungs. Surely, you’ve caught a handful of attention. 

Once he’s fully out of you, Seokjin flips you over on your back. You avoid his gaze and bring your knees into your chest. He smiles and holds onto your ankles.

“I’m not sure if I want to clean you up or not,” he thinks out loud. You're too light headed to answer, but the hard look in your eyes when you finally meet his gaze is enough to make him laugh. “Guess I’m gonna leave you to walk around with my cum all day, Little Doe.”

“That’s not fair,” you sigh. 

Seokjin tuts. “Don’t whine,” he orders while pressing soft kisses upon your knees. He then pulls his briefs and pants up. And just like that, he’s fully dressed. The only indication that something dirty occurred is the dripping stain of peach juice on his white shirt. 

A part of you can’t bring itself to care if his cum stays in you or not. He’s fucked you beyond comprehension and you still have yet to regain your senses. His eyes flash with worry when you don’t fight him on his decision. 

“Are you okay?”

You only nod, all too fucked out to use words. 

“Need help sitting up?”

He interprets the half-hearted glare you shoot him as the yes you intended. He holds his hands out for you and you take them without a second thought. A smile graces his features as he pulls you off the ground. You tuck your legs under you when you finally sit back up. Your dress crumples under you and you can’t even be bothered to pull it out. 

Seokjin, barely even heaving, watches you try to compose yourself. “How are you not as tired as I am?” You question between pants. 

“Because I’m better than- Ow!”

You swat his shoulder and glare at him. “Finish that sentence and you won’t get any tonight,” you threaten before turning your attention back to your dress. You pull it out from under your and try to turn it inside in. 

Seokjin scoffs, flipping the dress over so you can finish your task easier. “You really think you’ll be able to go again tonight too?” 

Licking your lips, you hold his gaze and pull your dress back on. “If the truth doesn’t destroy you,” you start, buttoning up your dress, “Then, you can have me every night.”

He slowly nods along to your words. Curling a strand of his hair behind his ear, he sighs and finally confesses, “I did steal the letters.”

Your heart shatters into your gut. Clenching your jaw, you attempt to hold back your tears. Yes, you’ve accused him of it over and over again, but every time he denied it, you believed him. Never did you really believe he was this capable of being cruel.

The trembling sigh that escapes you makes him turn his body fully towards you. “I didn’t take them from you though,” he quickly adds. 

“My owl is an extension of me, asswipe,” you seethe, voice almost breaking. 

Seokjin shakes his head and corrects his statement, “No, I mean I didn’t take them from you at all. I caught someone reading them in the restricted section.” 

You scoff, looking off into the town with a shake of your head. This is unbelievable. Does he honestly think he can copy your someone claim and get away with it? “Someone?”

He raises a brow at you. “What? Suddenly that sounds stupid? That’s all you’ve been telling McGonagall.”

You snap your eyes back to him and shout, “That’s the truth! Someone told-”

“I know it was Mitch,” he cuts off.

“How can you be so sure? It could’ve-”

“Because that’s who I found with your letters.” 

You freeze. No. No! Mitch is a Slytherin, a friend. Why the hell would he steal your letters and then tell you about it? And if he did read them, then he knows the truth about you. So why hasn’t his demeanour around you changed? Why hasn’t he told anyone else? 

“I thought you were going to tell me the truth.”

“(Y/N), I swear this is the entirety of it. I took them from him the moment I recognized your handwriting,” he explains. Seokjin shifts closer to you and pushes your hair out of your face. “He told me that if I told you what he did, then he'd tell the school about your blood status.” 

Nothing can stop the tears pooling in your eyes. You try to blink them back, but that only provokes a few to fall. Seokjin goes to wipe them only to have you push his hand away. “So you know?” You whisper in hopes that it will mask the cracks in your voice. 

It doesn’t. 

“No one cares that you’re muggle born, (Y/N),” he sighs. 

“So why didn’t you tell McGonagall the truth then? Why’d you hide it for this long if no one will care? We both know there’s a good chunk of each house that will hunt me down if they knew.” 

He shakes his head. “You know that’s not true. I didn’t tell anyone because I knew it would hurt you. You’re just scared you’d lose your power over everyone. Being half blood gains you just as much respect as being a muggle born.”

Your tears act on their own accord now, falling freely down your face. This time when Seokjin goes to wipe them away, you don’t reject him. He cups your face and says, “And if anyone does try to hurt you because of that-”

“You’ll make their life a living hell?” You mockingly finish. 

Seokjin smirks. “No, my girlfriend will,” he chuckles, genuine eyes boring into yours. “She’s really beautiful and she’s not afraid to take what’s hers. And she’s actually really scary. I’m really terrified of what she’ll do next sometimes.” 

You fight off the urge to smile as much as you can while he speaks. “You better be talking about me or I swear, Jin, I’ll-”

“See? She’s already making threats and I’m complimenting her,” he laughs. 

A little giggle tumbles out of your lips. As you finally let yourself smile, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a tight hug. “Thank you,” you mutter into his shoulder. 

Seokjin is quick to hold onto your waist. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck. “You know you’ll be okay, Little Doe.” 

The nickname has never made you smile as much as this before. And though your ego is still larger than him, your pride finally takes the back seat. Swallowing thickly, you pull away from him and mumble, “I’m sorry.” 

“Hmm?”

You huff through your nose and only just raise your voice, “I’m sorry.”

Seokjin knits his brows and leans in, “What?”

“For fuck’s sake, you alpaca, I said I’m sorry!” 

“Oh, you were serious?” He asks with a playful smirk. 

You internally curse yourself for being so in love with an idiot and shake your head. Your nose twitches a bit and Seokjin can’t help but throw his head back as he laughs. “I don’t know why I try,” you mutter to yourself.

Seokjin grabs onto your wrist and pulls you into his lap. You give in without another word and let him cradle you close to his chest. “You don’t need to apologize for anything,” he mutters against your hair. “I know you didn’t mean to start that fire.”

You snap your head up at him. “Really?” 

“I told McGonagall the same thing but she kept asking if I knew who else would do that, so I just stopped trying.” 

He really tried. This whole time you were convinced he thought the worse of you, that he didn’t care if you ever returned to Hogwarts, but he really was trying to help you. How long has he known he’s been in love with you too? Wrapping your arms around him, you reach up for another gentle kiss. The act of kissing him seems so natural now, so right and real. The way your lips move against each other isn’t like something you’ve felt before. You want this always; you want him always. 

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” 

You pull away from Seokjin with a start. His eyes dart to something behind you as his hands quickly move to hide the dark green dildo behind him. Quickly crawling out of his lap, you jump to your feet and stand an arm's length away from Seokjin. He follows your lead, standing up as you press your thighs together.

Your mixed cum threatens to fall with every passed second you remain standing. Cursing yourself for not making him clean it up, you try to stay calm. As long as it doesn’t drip pass the hem of your dress, you know you’ll be fine

Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Trelawney hover just over the edge of the hill as they look between the two of you. How long have they been watching you? How much did they hear? Oh fuck, you think, how much did they see?

You remain perfectly still as both of them land and dismount. “We’ve been looking everywhere for the two of you. Your lunch break finished twenty minutes ago,” Professor Trelawney sighs. “I was worried you were hurt.”

“We’re fine,” you reply. 

“Just fine,” Seokjin echoes. 

McGonagall flickers her attention between the two of you. “What were you so busy doing that you lost track of time?” She questions. 

Swallowing thickly, you mutter, “That’s a good question.”

“Really good question.”

Turning to Seokjin, you quietly ask, “Are you going to do that the entire time?”

“What? I’m not allowed to talk?”

“Not if you’re gonna act like a parrot.”

“Ahem…” 

Silence falls over the both of you the moment McGonagall clears her throat. Once she has regained your attention, her gaze falls on something to your right. All eyes follow your line of sight to find your lace bra by your lunch box. You bring a hand to your mouth to keep your jaw from dropping in sheer embarrassment.

“And how long has this been going on?”

“Since last night,” Seokjin replies with almost no prompting. 

You swat his arm, shooting him a pointed look. “Are you kidding me?”

“Oh,” McGonagall hums. She then turns to Professor Trelawney and says, “You were right. They are getting along. Well, this won’t be so hard to say then.”

You hold your breath. Here it is. The results of your investigation. All questions about your future as a witch in training will finally come to an end. Seokjin shifts closer to you and his hand finds yours. You turn to meet his gaze as he squeezes your hand. 

“Mr. Kim Seokjin,” the headmistress starts, “Congratulations. You will be returning to Hogwarts first thing tomorrow morning.”

However, Seokjin doesn’t move. He doesn’t even so much as let out a shaky breath. He simply continues to hold your hand and stare at McGonagall. You attempt to squeeze his hand to let him know you’re okay, but he still doesn’t budge. 

McGonagall quirks her head at him, asking, “Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Kim.”

“Yes,” he finally states. When the headmistress nods for him to continue, he exhales deeply and says, “I won’t let you expel her for something she didn’t do.”

A smirk plays on her lips. “That’s very noble of you, Mr. Kim. But Miss (L/N) is not being expelled for something she didn’t do.”

“(Y/N) didn’t start the fire.”

“Quite so,” McGonagall agrees. Your eyes widen and for a moment you don’t think you’re breathing at all. “That’s why she will be returning with you in the morning.” 

A child-like laughter you’ve never heard before escapes you at the announcement. “Really?” You ask, and when both professors smile and nod, you jump into Seokjin’s arms. He wraps his arms around you instantly, lifting you off the ground. 

However, in the haste of his movements, Seokjin drops the one thing redeeming your pride before your professors. Upon impact, the dildo hums to life and all smiles are suddenly gone. Both you and Seokjin rush to turn it off with a wave of your hand, but it only seems to intensify the vibrations. Finally, McGonagall pulls out her wand and silences the toy. 

You can’t even bear to look at her, keeping your eyes trained on the ground. Seokjin opens his mouth to explain but the headmistress shakes her head, “The less we know the better.” 

After a beat of silence, she hands each of you your wands and expresses her excitement to see you in the halls once more. And as she summons her broom up into her hand, Seokjin asks the headmistress, “So was it an accident then?”

“No, I’m afraid someone intended to hurt you,” she sighs, “The both of you actually.”

You share a concerned look with Seokjin. “Who?”

“Someone,” she smirks as she mounts onto your broom. “We look forward to having you back at Hogwarts.” 

The two of you thank both of your professors before they fly back to the cafe. 

Seokjin wraps his arm lazily around your waist and pulls you into his chest. He smiles down at you before cupping your face and softly pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, relishing in your secured position at school. 

“I knew it,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes and fight off a smile. “You did not. You were shaking when you thought I wasn’t coming back,” you tease.

He grabs a handful of your ass. Raising a brow, he mutters, “Says the one on the verge of tears.”

“I don’t cry.”

Seokjin has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He clears his throat, nods, then says, “I know, Little Doe.”

Your breath somewhat hitches. Did he just try to save your pride? “Wow, you really are in love with me,” you mumble. 

You didn’t expect your words to ignite the egoistic part of him, but suddenly his expression hardens and his pride is on the line. “Never said in love.”

“Why are you lying?”

“You’re the liar.”

“Do you wanna go over…”

Your bickering lasts for either of you to even remember what set you off to begin with. And though your words knock each other’s pride only to build it again, and the pranks have not ceased to exist, you both know that nothing can change what you found, the love you found in each other on the tip of Doe’s Peak.

note; 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.

[bbyboibinnie]

two of us

synopsis: love is hard to come by, especially when the boy you’ve been pining over is already taken. pairing: reader x jisung  genre: fluff, angst, romance, college au  warning: explicit language/cursing wc: 2.8k

one

It was halfway through your senior year in high school when you two had met. This was unexpected to say the least because it was the last semester of your last year; you had no intentions of making any new friends, considering you already had a handful of people you were close with and stuck by for the last three years. It was Chan that introduced you to him. You had known Chan for awhile–he was your lab partner for two consecutive years now–and although you considered him as a friend, you had never actually hung out outside of school before, unless it was for a group project of course. However, one day he had invited you to his birthday celebration and that was the day when you met his other friends, one of them being Jisung. 

“Woah, slow down there.” His word caught you by surprise as you were stuffing cupcakes in your mouth. You didn’t really know any of Chan’s friends at the time and socializing with new people didn’t exactly come by easily for you, so you had opted to linger around the snack table instead. 

Hastily dusting the crumbs off your face, you introduced yourself, “Oh, hey. My name is y/n.”

“I’m Jisung. I think we have calculus together right?” You looked at him closely; with black hair, deep brown eyes, and round cheeks you couldn’t lie–he was pretty cute, but you shook your head in response as you didn’t recognize him.

“Ya, Jisung! Come help me set up the cake!” Another one of the boys had called out, cutting your conversation with him short.

“Keep an eye out for me in calc.” He said as he was dragged away into the kitchen.

two

Sure enough, he was in the same math class as you. Honestly, besides your best friend in that period, you really didn’t pay attention to the other people. After all, the class was impacted and half of them were underclassmen so why bother remembering all the names and faces? 

It was the day after the party and you looked around at everyone in the class; it only took you a moment before you spotted him in a seat two rows over. The lecture hadn’t started yet so he was talking to his friends. You didn’t feel the need to get up to go over and spark a conversation or anything, but when you two made eye contact, you gave him a quick smile before turning back to face the front board. 

For a while, you two would occasionally spare glances at each other and wave or smile if you locked eyes, but there was nothing more. It wasn’t until after the latest exam when he approached you again.

“Hey, how’d you think you did?” He asked, waiting as you finished packing up your belongings. 

“Could’ve done better. What about you?” You made your way to the door and he followed suit.

“Just hoping for that passing grade. Anyway, Chan and I were going to meet up to grab food after class today, wanna come?” You debated going with them for a second but ended up agreeing anyways. 

You didn’t know what to make of Jisung at first, considering you had only exchanged a few words, but after hanging with him, even if it was just for a few hours, you found him to be quite likable. 

From then on, he stuck around and you didn’t mind, in fact, perhaps you enjoyed his presence a lot more than you were willing to admit. 

three 

High school came and went but you were ready to face the new challenges and opportunities that college presented. Most of your other friends had been accepted to places further away, but you had settled for community for the time being. For the most part, you were an independent person; therefore, you tried to not be clingy when your friends left to reach their own goals–you’d see them soon enough again–but you had been worried about starting this whole new chapter of your life alone, luckily for you, someone by the name of Han Jisung had enrolled right alongside you.

As days went by, you two were seen together more and more. Of course he met new people, and so did you, but it was always nice to have someone familiar to go back to and for you, that familiar face was Jisung, and for him, that person was you. 

Your majors were completely different and so were your classes, but you still spent time with him studying, ranting about professors, and passing out in each other’s rooms after staying up to finish assignments. 

“Hey, Jisung,” you whispered, trying to not startle him awake, “it’s almost midnight. You should probably head back to your place before it gets too late.” He was slumped over your desk, fingers lifelessly placed atop the keyboard of his laptop, already drifting into a deeper state of sleep. “Jisung.” You tried again, only to have him groan in response. Shaking your head, you draped a throw blanket over his figure before returning to your workload. 

It had gone on like this for weeks, months, nearly a year. One night he’d sleep over at your place and the next you’d be at his. Both of you had been accustomed to this routine now and you thought nothing of it, however, the more time you spent with him, the more you found things to like about him, and that’s what you were afraid of in the beginning–falling for him.

four 

You were never the type to fall head over heels for anyone, all throughout elementary, middle, and high school, you only had occasional crushes but nothing significant. Yet,

there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was the way he always made stupid jokes that you couldn’t help but laugh at, or perhaps it was the way he played his guitar and share the new songs he wrote with you first before anyone else got to hear them. It was the smile that reached his eyes and the way he knew you so well, like the back of his hand. It was everything. 

You didn’t expect anything more out of the platonic relationship, but you couldn’t just get rid of the feelings on demand, so you had to let them settle and hope that they’d go away eventually, of course that didn’t work. 

five

Just because you saw Jisung differently, didn’t mean he would have the same outlook on you. 

“What do you think would make a good first date?” Jisung had asked casually over the counter. You were currently on shift at the local boba shop and Jisung often tagged along; typically he just sat there and did his homework as he waited, but on days where store traffic was low, he would ease your boredom by talking aimlessly. This particular caught you off guard though.

“Um, I’m not sure. Why do you ask?” You said, trying to sound casual, while restocking the ingredients.

“Well, I finally managed to receive a ‘yes’ after I asked someone out earlier today.” He said, smiling to himself in satisfaction. You were shocked, but at the same time, not at all. During the twelve months or so that you’ve known him, relationships weren’t a common topic of discussion. Yes, it did come up a few times but college and just life in general was already too time consuming so you didn’t bother with relationships, and neither did he.

“Wow, I’m impressed Jisung. I didn’t think anyone would fall for a clown like you.” You teased him, hoping your disappointment wasn’t showing. You knew that it was a platonic relationship and had set no expectations, yet you still felt a wave of sadness wash over.

“Oh, haha. Seriously though, I only prepared on how to ask them out, but I didn’t think past that because I wasn’t sure I’d even make it this far.”

“In that case, why don’t you consider what the person likes and try to set up something that you both would enjoy? Personally, I don’t think you could go wrong with arcade, pizza, and boba though. I could even hook you up with a discount on the boba.” You said jokingly in an attempt to lift your mood up. 

“What would I do without you? You better keep your word about that discount though. Oh shit, I gotta head back and finish my essay, see ya y/n. Also, text me when you get back to your place!” He shouted the last part as he was in the midst of exiting and the door jingled as it shut behind him. 

six

So his date had gone well and now his status went from ‘single’ to ‘taken’ while you were still struggling to manage your unrequited feelings. You had accepted the situation for what it was but that didn’t make it any easier. 

Naturally as he began to split his time between his new relationship and you, the time you spent with him dwindled down. Weekly study sessions became bi-weekly, which turned into monthly events. You didn’t hold this against him though, you were glad he found someone to connect with. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late… again.” Jisung said sheepishly as he entered your room, with a backpack slung over his shoulders, messy hair, and pink marks peeking out from under his t-shirt. You were flustered at the sight, knowing that he had just come back from being with his significant other, doing who knows what. 

“Uh, it’s okay. Just–let’s just get to studying.” You preoccupied yourself with your various notes and textbooks and tried you best not to be distracted. Suddenly, somewhere along the line, tension began to build. Maybe you were just imagining it but something had shifted between you and Jisung these days, and it gave you a sense of hopelessness because there was nothing you could do about it.

seven

More time had passed and your friendship was still afloat, but it definitely wasn’t the same as before. It seems like everything has its peak and you two have surpassed that; what goes up must come down, so it was all downhill from there. 

As his relationship became more unstable and doubts, he slowly began to make his way back to you. You should’ve been happy, even elated at this fact, but you weren’t. 

“I don’t know what happened. One minute we were fine and the next we were arguing. It’s like I am dating a different person now.” He expressed to you, once again at the boba shop you were still working at. It had actually been awhile since he came.

“Mmhhm.” You nodded wordlessly as you continued to spray down the tables with disinfectants.

“The argument was so petty, I should’ve known better than to engage in it.” The rant continued on and on and you had mindlessly agreed with everything he said, until he noticed you weren’t even paying attention.

“Y/n, are you even listening to me?” 

“Yup.”

“Okay, then will you give me your entire life savings?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n!” He shouted, getting up from his seat to stand directly in front of you on the other side of the counter. His loud voice startled you and you looked up, only to face a boy who was seething in anger. “Why are you blatantly ignoring me? I’m trying to rant to you and you’re not even helping.”

That was the last straw. 

“Listen, don’t come in here asking me to be your guidance counselor after cancelling our plans on dozens of occasions. Also, how could you really expect me to give you my time when you can’t even spare me a minute on any other day. You’ve been a real jerk lately and you haven’t even noticed it! I can’t believe I ever liked someone like you!” The indirect confession left your mouth before you could stop yourself, and he stood there absolutely dumbfounded. 

eight 

 That night, you immediately wanted to hide in the back of the store and hope whatever happened never happened, but you were tired of miscommunication.

“You like me?” Between the two of you, he was the one who had the courage to break the silence.

“Liked. I liked you. Past tense.”

“Do you still like me? Present tense.” 

“No, I don’t–or maybe. I don’t know right now.” You had mentally convinced yourself that you were over him, but trying to admit it out loud proved otherwise. 

“Y/n, I–” He started but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Maybe you should just go home now. I need some time to think.” He had hesitated for a moment, but eventually, he respected your wishes. 

nine

It had been over a week, nearing two weeks, since you’ve talked to him. You already had so much on your plate with finals coming around and constantly having to work, so this was not something you wanted to deal with now, or ever actually. But closure was necessary, for you and for him, so you decided that once finals were over, you’d set things straight.

Grabbing the phone off your nightstand, scrolled through your contacts to find his name.

(11:57 PM ) 

[ you ]  hey, we should talk after finals r over

You sent the text, hoping he’d want closure as well, but minutes passed there was no response. Just when you were about to sleep, your phone vibrated.

(12:05 AM)

[ jisung ] okay, see u after finals then. gn 

ten 

You had just gotten out of your last class of the day when he came into view. Frankly, you hadn’t expected to meet up with him until later on in the day, but that was your own mistake for not specifying when or where to meet in the text. Although this had slightly caught you off guard, you couldn’t put this off forever so you made your way towards him.

It was a relatively cold day; he stood there bundled up in his hoodie and a beanie atop which tamed his hair from the strong winds. 

“Hey.” You said as you stood face to face with him.

“Hey, it’s been awhile.” He responded, eyes softening when he saw you. 

* * * 

Together, you ended up walking back to his place to talk. Nothing much was said during the trip back, besides the occasional polite small talk like “how have you been?” and “how were finals?” 

When he opened his door, you entered wearily; although you had visited his place numerous times in the past, the last time you actually came by was months ago so it felt odd to be back to place so familiar, yet foreign again. 

You were grateful for the fact that it was so warm in his apartment because the weather outside had left your body feeling numb. 

“Here, I know you get cold easily.” Jisung handed you an extra sweater he pulled from his closet and you thanked him before sliding it over your shoulders. 

The both of you just stood in his living room, no one knew what to say or how to start the conversation, but you were here now so it was time to say everything you’ve felt. With a deep breath, you began. 

“I thought I could let go of my feelings for you, but I couldn’t.” You said, focusing on the floor as you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “And I’m sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable or jeopardizes whatever is left of our friendship, but I can’t keep lying to myself anymore. If you don’t like me, then I’ll have to accept it and move on but I just had to let you kn-” 

Your spiel came to an abrupt stop when he drew you into his arms. Not knowing how to react, you were frozen from confusion and shock.

“Y/n, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” He held you at arms length and gently titled your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “If I had known you liked me, I would’ve never looked at anyone else.”

His words were forming incoherent sentences in your head. Was this his confession? Did he feel the same way? 

He must’ve sensed your puzzlement because he smiled at you and said, “Yes dummy, I like you too.” 

Your immediate response was to smile, but then something dawned on you.

“What about your current relationship?”

“I’m no longer in a relationship. We have been broken up for nearly a month now.” 

“So what does that mean for us?” You say, almost too optimistically. And his response was to pull you in close, so close to the point where you could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks and your noses were barely touching, before closing the gap between your lips and his.

a/n: honestly, this piece is kind of all over the place since it’s my first one but hopefully more practice will make my writing better! also, this is not proofread so my apologies for any grammatical/punctuation errors. 

also here it my masterlist in case you want to read my other works!

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Hiccup by Valley

Summary: After encountering a road block in your relationship, what path will you take to wind up your broken heart with Iwaizumi?

Pairings: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem!reader

Genre/Warning: angst, cursing

Word count: 6k

A/N: i promise myself i was going to write some bokuto fluff but this song keeps bringing me back to iwa😣 also pls listen to this song<3

2 YEARS AGO

"Tooru."

You call out to him, knees to the floor clutching tightly on your shirt, droplets to the wooden surface. Oikawa harshly closes his eyes, unable to let his eyes rest on your weakened state. He takes a deep breath when he hears your mournful sob. He hears how you took in rough gasps of air so he drops the box from his hands as he rushes to you, his knee scraping from sliding to the floor as he takes you in his chest as you sobbed even more. Oikawa allowing his own tears to fall on your clothes.

He consistently caresses your hair, as your sniffles and cries of pain covered the eary atmosphere of your apartment.

"Tooru." You call out again, he closes his eyes as he leans his head on yours. He dreaded every second that passed knowing he shouldn't be the one to comfort you, but he knew your savior wasn't going to rescue you this time.

"Do you think he'll miss me?"

"I know he will, darling." He assures you, and you wipe your eyes gasping for air once again before speaking again. He lets his hand slide down to your back, patting it every now and then.

"But there's someone better huh?"

Oikawa bites his lip, and you take this silence as an answer you'd never forget. Your lips tug upwards, grinning at how it stung when it came from Oikawa. To Tooru, no one could replace you. He couldn't envision someone to love his brother the way you did and no amount of pain can top how much you cherished each other but he couldn't answer because he was unsure of the motives of the past ace.

"Thank you for staying." You whisper and he pulled you closer as he sighs, glancing at the apartment that appeared in their late night video calls. The same room where he saw the brightest smile that was painted on Iwaizumi, the eyes that carried passion whenever you'd pop up. Visiting the apartment for the first time, he didn't expect how- lifeless it felt.

"Always."

PRESENT

You stretched as you rolled over to the side, used to the ghost of him. You shouldn't be used to it, he should be there to occupy it everyday but every morning you were just greeted by the chilliness he brought you.

The sun sneakily shined upon your eyes as you immediately turn away, expecting the memories to strike your heart like it does whenever the sun flaunted its rays.

"You're mesmerizing." He whispers, his pointer finger inched its way down to your cheek, smiling to himself. You hummed in response, shuffling in the sheets as his heart pounders at the sight of your shoulder peeking through the thin material, with the sunlight decorating your skin with its beauty.

You opened your eyes only to be surprised by how bright the sun was making you close them immediately, giggling to yourself. Who knew his heart could melt even more? Once you've slowly opened your eyes again, you gaze at your Hajime placing a hand on his cheek. With his hand on your chin, he slowly lifts it so your lips meet with his as you smile, running your hand from his cheek to his hair, while closing your eyes at the

He pulls away as butterflies swarmed inside him, pushing back the string of hair that landed in your eyes.

"I love you."

"Forever?"

"And ever after."

You curse at the usual memory that would pass you every morning. It annoyed you how there wasn't a day where you weren't starting the morning this pissed off. Realistically speaking, you adored how your memories would bring life to your body once in a while but when love appears, pain tags along- making it hard to enjoy the only things that could take away the emptiness.

Without him, you could never bring yourself to close the curtains. A habit you've devastatingly brought upon yourself.

Whenever the sun rose and it's light surrounded your room, it was the closest embrace you could ever have from him.

You let your fingers graze over the longing sensation on your lips. Incapable of forgetting how every kiss from his plush lips made you high. Intoxicated with his devotion to you. Each having it's own unique way of bringing you stories from the way it synced with yours.

Do you ever think about coming back to kiss my mouth? You ask yourself, sadly letting go of your lips before stepping into the bathroom.

I miss the taste of you and it's always been you. Iwaizumi thinks to himself as he feels the tingle of coldness from his lips. Like you, he adored the way his mornings were blessings but his room looked like a grave for his emotions.

Curtains closed, not allowing to let the sun peak through since the light in his world wasn't there to bring back the life in his soulless apartment.

He steps out of bed entering his bathroom, brushing his teeth as he rubs his eyes with his free hand.

"S-shush! Baby- baby stop talking!" He says chuckling before placing the toothbrush in your mouth. You two were superbly drunk and it seems like even if Iwaizumi was drunk to the gods, he was still the responsible one in the relationship. You were already about to pass out but his loud laughter kept you awake.

"But Hajime- let me sleep already, you're so noisy bub." You pout but he chuckles again. You turn behind you try and sit on top of the counter but you slid off when you jumped. Iwaizumi shakes his head with a grin as he places his hand on your waist before effortlessly lifting you and placing you on the bathroom sink.

You continue to brush your teeth as he watches how your eyes would droop every second. You spit out the toothpaste before taking in some water and spitting it out as well. You wiped your mouth before bringing your arms outward. "Am I okay now babe? Hajime- honey I wanna sleep." You beg as he rolls his eyes taking you in his arms, like a bride.

"And what about you mister? Did you brush your teeth?" You teased, taking in the aroma of alcohol he had. He bit his lips trying not to laugh but he shakes his head, answering your question. You let out a gasp of betrayal as you hopped out of his arms grabbing the toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it, but you hear his cackle making you laugh as well, addicted to how it made you join him in an instant.

"Princess, at least put it on the actual brush. Not the other end you dumbie." He states making you look down on your failure of an attempt. You let out an "Oh." and this brought tears to both of your eyes from laughing endlessly.

He gazes at his reflection through the mirror as he takes a deep breath. It felt like if he'd utter a word, his voice would already crack at the resurfaced moment. He scolds himself for having minimal change in a span of two years. He told himself that he shouldn't wallow in the grief but he endured it for days.

There wasn't a clear way for him to move on, especially when you drained him from all functions of his mind. The only thing that interests him to be happy was that he held on to the probability of meeting you again. Even if the chances were slim to none, he'd take anything that there is left just to see you again.

Though it seems like, he'd have to suffer longer just for it to happen.

-

Maybe I'd understand the things that you'd do. You whisper as you take another gulp of alcohol. It was Saturday, your supposed late night sessions with Iwaizumi but instead you were solo for today, and maybe for the rest of the years. You bitterly chuckle to yourself as you didn't bother to answer Oikawas call. Your phone kept going off, receiving dozens of messages and missed calls from the setter. He deeply hated Saturdays, or at least your version of it.

Whether you chose to bottle down every beer you had, or scream and get smothered in mascara stains from crying, or even worse, both. Sometimes you'd even mistaken Oikawa for Iwaizumi, and Oikawa allows it knowing it's a way for you to cope. He hated how far away he was but he strictly told you that if you were ever to pursue yourself to go to the club, he'd drop everything and book a ticket to you immediate, of course this was enough for you to listen especially when you'd feel guilty for wasting his time.

Oikawa knew better than to ask for Iwaizumis help. He remained a bridge for the two of you, knowing he'd encounter to different sides. Iwaizumi had him pick up his belongings in your apartment, denying to step foot in your room. In which brought Oikawa to tears at sight of his best friends past lover in such a disaster of a state. So granting Iwaizumis wish, he stayed.

"Why can't you do it? It's your apartment." Oikawa argued making Iwaizumi grunt in pain as he secretly wipes away the tears in his eyes. He sighs before facing the setter.

"She hates me, Oikawa." He says, staring directly at the boy. Oikawa scoffs but stares at the ground, hands to his side formed in a fist.

Is it that bad? He questions.

"Iwa- what happened?" He asks nervously but Iwaizumi only closes his eyes as he tries to get rid of the screams from the previous night.

"I'll tell you soon. When you see her, maybe you'll understand why I can't do this, why I can't face her. Just please do me one favor." The tone in his voice slowly lessens with the last sentence, making Oikawas heart ache for the two of you. Looking at Iwaizumis eyes, Oikawa could see the way he was holding back, but from what? There was a certain change in his usual stare- he looked lost.

Oikawa sits on the couch as he lets his hand gesture for Iwaizumi to speak. He couldn't say anything else but he hoped that Iwaizumi would take his silence as an answer already. Oikawa would do anything for Iwa, and if he was your other half, and Oikawa will do the same to you.

"Save her."

"From what, Iwa?"

"From what I've done."

Oikawa was impatiently waiting for your response but it seems you've decided to push him aside again. Although he was home, the distance from him to you was troublesome so he insisted to call you instead.

He assumed that last year you've gotten better since you spent you Saturday sleeping instead of drinking, but it progressively got worse.

"I mean, one drink wouldn't hurt right?"

He was dumbfounded when one drink turned into hundreds. He knew it was difficult to continue especially when you and Iwaizumi were having the time of your lives everytime. Whether you were extremely drunk, he knew that you two acted the complete same when you were sober. There wasn't a difference, meaning that's just how love worked between you two.

"Tooru- honey!" You shout as Iwaizumi pouts. It was your 4th anniversary and Oikawa decided to call to greet the lovely couple another successful year of your relationship.

"It's shittykawa to you, babe." Iwaizumi teases making Oikawa rolls his eyes. Through the camera, he sees you above Iwaizumi with arms wrapped around his neck without your chin resting on the boys head as he smiles, content to see that 4 years and love didn't change, not even a bit.

"Disgusting lovebirds, happy anniversary to you both!" Oikawa cheers as you giggle, blowing a kiss to him for greeting you two.

"Thank you Tooru-" your words were cut off by a gasp of realization as you shake Iwaizumi. Hajime takes in your excitement as he shakes his head at your actions.

"Hajime! There's no way you're not making Tooru as your best man- anyway! Tooru! This my official invitation for you to be his best man at our wedding!" Oikawa laughs as he raises his eyebrow to Iwaizumi who had a smirk on his lips.

"Well, I will be overly disappointed if I wasn't chosen. If Iwa-chan declines, I'll be your best man instead Y/N, or if you take my offer, I'll be the groom." He winks to you as you laugh before taking another sip of your drink. Iwaizumi flips off Oikawa and the setter only returns this by poking his tongue out to his best friend.

"So is that right, Iwa-chan? Will you finally bend the knee for the lovely lady?" With Oikawas question, you turn to Iwaizumi as if you were nervous. You bit your lip looking at your boyfriend before he pecks your lips catching you off guard as he looks at you with a smirk.

"I'd be a fool not to." He says making you squeal, as you immediately cover your face in your hands, embarassed by how red you got. Oikawa rolls his eyes, envious at the love you shared. Although, he is joyous that you've made Iwaizumi the happiest man he can be, even if you two weren't married yet, to Oikawa it looks like your relationship will only lead to the altar.

There wasn't a single doubt to that.

"Y/N! I thought you've forgotten how to pick up the phone again." He scolds you but his anger washes away when he sees you with red eyes and sniffling uncontrollably.

"Hajime." She calls out, as Oikawa sighs into his pillow realizing it's another night of him acting as Iwaizumi. He's already heard all the things you wanted to say to the missing boy and he accepted the fact that you'll never have the heart to say it to Iwaizumi himself.

"Why do I miss you, now that you're out of my life?" You cried. Oikawa only rests his chin on the palm of his hand as you continued to pour your sadness upon him. You swing the bottle in your hands before downing another wave of liquor.

"I wanna know what you're doing tonight." You whisper as you take your phone, clicking on Iwaizumis contact but before you could, Oikawa spoke, knowing your next intentions.

"No, not again Y/N." He says but you shake your head your finger threatening to press it already.

"Y/N listen to me, Iwa would have contacted you right now but this isn't the time!" He argued but you scoffed, angry tears brimming in your eyes.

"No! Then when will that time come then! I've been waiting for so fucking long already! It's never gonna happen 'cause he's forgotten me- Fuck!" You shouted, taking Oikawa by surprise as you collapse to the floor once again, Oikawa coming back to the sight of you he wanted to forget.

"Y/N- babe I'm sorry-"

"Enough, Oikawa. If you could've been honest that Hajime's found another, then-then maybe I-" your voice cracks as you stressfully runs your fingers through your hair, gripping it tight in your hands as you let out another doleful sob, breaking Toorus heart.

"I don't know what do anymore." You whispered, your heart shattering in to even more finer pieces. You couldn't even put into words how you've been in torment for years.

It finally dawned on you that you weren't headed to the altar, you were headed in a different path.

Without him.

"Y/N- listen- Iwaizumi-" you ended the call leaving Oikawa stunned as he drops the phone in his hands in frustration and in regret. He decided to visit Iwaizumi, knowing it'd be hard to ever communicate with you again, especially that you've been struck by a wrong thought.

And no one else could handle you the way Hajime would.

"Iwa-chan."

"Oikawa? What is it?"

"I fucked up, I'm sorry."

-

Iwaizumi held his breath as Oikawa explained what happened. He couldn't wrap his head around the unintentional pain Oikawa has given you.

"Iwa, I'm so sorry." Tooru says, making Iwaizumi close his eyes visioning your features crushing at the idea of him having somebody by his side.

Hajimes eyes would never betray you. The only reflection that stayed in his eyes, was the future that was thrown away.

"Oikawa, hey it's okay, I understand." Iwaizumi says with a soft tone to assure Oikawa. Tooru would never intentionally hurt you, he was there to save you. Even if Iwaizumi didn't ask him to take care of you, Oikawa would do everything to bring a smile on your lips. As much love you have to Hajime, its the same amount you have to Oikawa.

"Leaving isn't bad because you're gonna come back with something even better and that's the best version of yourself."

It's your words that he counted on. He believed that he wasn't being selfish, or prideful. You made him believe that finding himself was enough to get him all the medals, the passion, and everything he wanted. So he'd want nothing more than to give thanks to you.

"Iwa."

Oikawa breaks the silence. Iwaizumi looks at him while biting down on his fingers, his heart beating too loudly at the thought of you.

"Why didn't you call her- not even giving her a proper goodbye." Tooru asks with masked anger in his tone. How could he help Hajime when he's blocking him from the truth?

"Iwaizumi. Answer me. For once." Oikawa begs, but once he's met with the silence, he's never been more eager to give in to anger.

"I just- I can't let it happen again, Oikawa. Not to her, not to us."

"Baby, what movie do you want to watch on Saturday? I've seen so many good ones lately." Iwaizumi turns to you with an exhausted expression. You were arranging the condiments in the cabinet, waiting for his response.

"Can't we- reschedule? I-I have something to go to-"

"You can't blow me off for the third time this week, Iwa." You spat, sick of the excuses. Has it really been three times? Iwaizumi questions as he leans on the couch, letting out a sigh. To which is a response you didn't expect to receive.

"I've been busy." He lied, he may not feel it, but there wasn't a single hesitation when he spoke. You memorize his schedules, his after meetings, the excused he's mentioned didn't even bother to make sense. It hurt how he was able to come up so easily, not even thinking about you'd be able to piece them all together.

"Or are you just tired, Iwaizumi?"

You asked rudely. He looks at you before rolling his eyes, covering your heart in bitterness at his pride.

"So what if I am?"

He talked back, hitting you with a bigger wave of emotions. You slammed the door of the cabinet, marching to him each step mixed with rage and pain.

"You're tired? Imagine what I've been feeling, Hajime!" You shout, volume picking up on your tone as this makes Iwaizumi stand up from the couch, not backing down at the power of your voice.

"Clingy? Needy? Pathetic? Tell me, does that sound any different to you?" He said it with so much disgust, strong enough to make you doubt everything you've fought for.

"So you don't give a fuck? Is that what you're so proud of, Iwaizumi? That you're so fucking insensitive?" He felt a tug on his heart when you called him that. It's been so long since he's heard you say it so- normal. As odd as it is, he couldn't hear his name the same again, especially when it came from you.

"Exactly! God I- Y/N. This is why-"

"WHAT IWAIZUMI!"

"This why I'm so fucking tired of you!" He shouted, not only did it create a barrier in your apartment, it brought up your past barrier that he broke down but now he's the cause of it to return.

"You're just- can you even make it on your own without me? It's like if I leave you'd- lose your shit! We need space!" He was fuming with confused anger as you feel your throat give out. You were shaking, your heart was too fast and unsteady, you weren't the same.

"But space is what you've been giving me! Coming home so late? Standing me up? You don't even fucking realize how many dates we missed!" He scoffs before running his fingers through his raven hair. Taking a step towards you, making you stand your ground as you tilt your head to meet with his empty eyes.

This isn't the man who could love you forever and ever after.

"So what! I've got so many things to do apart from dealing with your shit!" You stare back at him, weakened at how your heart couldn't handle it anymore.

You looked down, feeling the sting in your hands when your nails digged into the skin of your palm. He sits down on the couch, drained from the war full of shouting and the damage his heart was in.

Surprisingly, you sat beside him but there was such an intense distance between you.

He turns to you but chills ran up his spine when he sees how you look like you've agreed to everything he's said, making his eyes widen at the foreign feeling.

This is what he was scared of. Failing to find interest in the same routine, to find the energy to continue like he used to. Being worn out by how repetitive things were even when the love you both had was nowhere near boring.

In fact, it was exhilarating. You were both curious to try things together, that's what led you to even owning an apartment together, planning a future, even planning your marriage that was now a blur.

He trembled. Regret, anxiousness, exhaustion. He didn't expect himself to feel this way, especially to you, who he loved completely but felt a certain drift in his heart. He looks away from you as his eyes trail on the picture of you two. He couldn't hold it in his hands to look at how happy he looked, because he isn't the same anymore.

He's lost his way.

"D-did I..lack something?" She asks quietly. He gulps at her question. It was so heavy to him. How you asked him, questioning yourself in this relationship. With anxious hands, he wanted to reach out for you but his efforts were surpassed when he felt a wall between you and him.

"Am I worth.. to keep?"

Please, baby. He begs in his mind for you to stop. He couldn't register how he couldn't make himself speak. He was holding back too much, terrified that he was going to break you more and more with every word he'd toss to you.

"Then this is pointless isn't it?"

You both look at each other, both met with different expressions in your eyes. Iwaizumi could see how tired you were, how he knew you wouldn't be able to look at him the same way before, since he gave up first. While you can see how there wasn't a single lie in his eyes, the downfall was upon you.

No matter the space you give him, there can never be a spark to bring him back.

He bit his lip, facing the truth. Even he knew there isn't any other way.

"I know what you're gonna say, Hajime."

"Princess.. I'm sorry"

"Just go." It was impossible for him to follow your orders when all he wishes is to stay but then again, he's run out of reasons to.

"You gave up, Iwa!" Oikawa shouts, standing up to the boy. Iwaizumi lets his eyes wonder on the floor because he said nothing but the truth.

"There isn't anything I can-"

He's heard enough. You've asked Oikawa many heartbreaking questions. They were all unanswerable, and it pained him he couldn't give you at least one. He was in pain as much as you were. He hated how stupid Iwaizumi was for leaving you and choosing to cower away. He hated how you blamed yourself and slashing your heart because of Iwaizumi.

The tension has set fire to Oikawa and with years of loyalty between the two, Oikawa throws a heavy punch to Iwaizumi, disgusted of his actions.

Iwaizumi, completely at shocked at Oikawas punch, steps back a few times before his blood dropped on his fingers. Oikawa walks straight to Iwaizumi capturing his collar and pulling the boy upwards, nothing but rage consuming the setter.

"Did you love her then? Don't tell me this bullshit that you can't go back to her. Do you even wanna know what she asks me?" Iwaizumi removes Oikawas hands from his shirt, crumpling it in the process. Oikawa lets out a sarcastic laugh as he looks at Hajime.

"Ah, so you know how much shit you put her through? Then maybe you are an asshole but god- Iwa she loves you so much. If that isn't a good enough reason for you to talk to her, then I'll find somebody else for her." Oikawa threatens as Iwaizumi lets out a sob, nothing but regret that he hurt two of the most important people on his life.

"But what if it happens again?"

Iwaizumi asks, it was the only thing that held him back for returning into your arms. He isn't stable enough to return when the fear lingers in his head. What if he falls out of love? What if he gets tired again? Then you'll never want his presence again. He couldn't master up the courage because he too was scared of it.

He will not go through dozens of years just to be apart from you. He's already lost his mind to see you and Oikawa face the tragedy that he left you with. He felt nauseated with himself. How can he promise you forever when it was out of his grasp?

"Why don't you find out?"

It was a simple sentence that left Oikawas lips yet it brought Hajime to tears. It would've been that easy. If he didn't stay with his demons, then maybe you were here to offset his heart. After 2 years, isn't it too late to realize that he's never really ran out of love? It strengthened, but he was so afraid of battling with you like you did, hating how he was the man who shattered your overall being.

"Thank you, Oikawa."

He whispers as Oikawa takes a seat beside him, smiling that he brought the boy to realize the amount of time he's wasted by being surrounded by doubt. Oikawa pats the boys shoulder, sighing in relief that Iwaizumi was back.

"Always."

-

You swore to avoid your phone the entire day. As much as you wanted to apologize to Oikawa for the outburst, you just wanted a day of silence since your thoughts never give you the chance. Not only did you promise to avoid technology, you decided to avoid people as well, promising to yourself you'd rather stay inside in order to avoid the envy you had for other couples.

So here you are, tucked in your jacket, wrapped in your blanket waking up from a 4 hour nap. You yawned before squinting when you open your phone. It's 8pm and your stomach was nowhere near happy. Slowly standing up, you make your way to the kitchen opening the fridge seeing absolutely no hope to make a meal. Sighing lazily, you decided it'd be best to just buy some food.

After getting ready, you step out of your apartment as you drive to the place where you usually order. You admired how the moon lit your way. Opening your windows you smile when the cold whiff of air instantly surrounded your car. You loved the way your hair flew in the wind while you listened to the song playing.

Once you've finished your bought dinner, you decided to take a turn in your path. Now that it was late at night, you couldn't resist to visit a place you've been missing.

You take in a deep breath as you leaned on the metal bar, loving the way the view still took your breath away. You were face to face with the nightlights and the busy town below you. Not only was it stunning but it was a place to recall some of your favorite moments with him now that you were out of your comfortless of an apartment.

"Sorry for being late, Oikawa was an ass." Iwaizumi excuses himself as he stood beside you leaning on the rod, smiling once he takes in the lights. He turns to you before removing his jacket and placing it on your shoulders, a sweet gesture that had you blushing every time.

You couldn't refuse knowing he would've scolded you. Instead, you stood closer to him before leaning your head on his arm. With his hand, he interlaced his fingers with yours, as your heart flutters. He takes in your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it as you did the same with his hand making him twirl you in satisfaction. You giggle before landing on his chest as he leans down and places his warm hands to your cheeks as he leans in to take your lips with his.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, reciprocating his kiss. He's given you hundreds of kisses before, how is this any different than the rest?

He pulls away, as your foreheads touch as you both painted a smile on your lips, feeling a slight tickle to it with how flustered you both were.

"I love you so much." He whispers, the first time he's ever let the three words slip from his mouth. Your hands make their way his hair, grabbing it lightly before nodding happily.

"I love you more, my Hajime."

Who knew that just by saying those three words, it was enough for you to believe in an ever after with him? Maybe you were wrong to fall for it even though he gave you a fragment of your so called forever.

You glanced beside you to see a vacant spot and you let out a disappointed sigh. You take in the sight of your fingers, missing the way it perfectly fit in his and how he held it with so much care, giving you an idea that he'd never let you go. Unfortunately he broke this bond but you still longed for his skin to be at contact with yours again.

You sat down placing your hand on the bench as you close your eyes leaning your back on it. You felt a shift of weight beside you, someone finally accompanying you in this lonely night but you've caught on the familiar scent of the stranger and you let the name slid off your tongue.

"Hajime."

He turns to you in shock that you knew it was him but you open your eyes, turning your head to be faced with the man you've been longing to see in two years. He looked the same, the same face who clouded your dreams. He was certainly your Hajime, the pretty boy you've adored since you were in high school.

Happy anniversary. You silently greet each other. How bittersweet, isn't it? What was meant to be your 6th year, turned into 2 years of avoiding each other.

And as you took in Iwaizumis appearance, he did the same with you. Loving the way your features clicked in his memory instantly. Was it even possible for you to be even more beautiful? To Iwaizumi, it was. He absolutely missed you, but why was his heart nervous?

What do I do? He asks himself. Small talk isn't what you deserved. God- you deserve so much more. Endless hours of talking, his embrace, his love, that's what you missed. He was willing to love you with everything he's got, now knowing he'll never run out of it because he isn't scared anymore.

"This isn't a dream is it?" You asked as you turn back to the sky counting the stars that was above you. He was glad you broke the silence, and he appreciated how there wasn't the same tension before. It felt so- serene and unique. Something he wishes it'd be a good sign for the both of you.

"I can't believe it either." He exclaims making you smile. You couldn't ask him how he's doing, not wanting to drag on a conversation you've waited years for to happen, you couldn't let it be bland and meaningless.

"We were something weren't we?" You asked with a soft smile. Iwaizumi chuckles beside you, as he sits closer to you. The cold air swirling around you two as well as the car noised filling in the comforting silence.

"God, I miss what that's like." Iwaizumi answers as you look at him. You looked down on the floor with tears appearing again, the same as Iwaizumi. You were both craving to hold each other but it didn't sit right to just rush into each other knowing there's so much to unpack.

Maybe it was a bit unexpected that you'd face him this way. Echoing through your ears was the conversation between you and Tooru about how the time never came. Now, you weren't even close to being prepared. You both imagined a proper conversation wherein you two would agree to meet up and talk things out. Yet subconsciously, you came to the same place at the same time not even knowing you'd meet. You lacked strength to bundle the words that you've always wanted to say to him and he felt the same way.

The last time you sat next to each other, that was when you parted. Now, back in the same position, it felt overwhelming. Seeing each other for the first time, both had you shocked and careful of your words. You wanted to scream how much you loved him, and he wanted to hold you in his arms to wash away the bleeding of your heart.

You loved how the universe made you two meet. It was quite painful that it had to be the place where you've shared so many memories with him. You didn't know if this was a blessing in disguise but you couldn't complain when the love of your life was here, beside you.

When he saw you, he felt like the sun shined above him like it did every morning. Where he had an angel to wake up next to, when he couldn't spot a single imperfection in your skin when the sun danced in your beauty.

And you've finally remembered the way his touch would bring you the assurance without words. His unexpected kisses, his sweet embrace, his smile that makes your heart run a marathon.

You're finally here. You both think, your hearts synced in how you've waited for this moment.

With your hand on the bench, he places his hand on top of yours, feeling like it was too fragile to hold but you didn't pull away. He takes in your features in the moonlight as his heart picks up the pace at the feeling that washes over him.

There isn't a barrier anymore.

Having the chance to hold your hand like this, he'll never take this for granted again. His everything, back in his touch, god how lucky he was. Remembering Oikawas words, one thing was clear to Iwaizumi, and that was the fact that he couldn't afford to have another hiccup in your relationship.

"We really fucked up this time." Iwaizumi comments making the both of you chuckle as he intertwines your hands with his, smiles on either your faces now that you've finally found the path to each other.

[bureowo]

and though (i’d like to stand by him)

summary: your relationship with Minho is, as they say, complicated.

genre: angst w/happy ending bc i’m baby. | word count: 1646.

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption.

The phone rings as your hands tremble. You know you’re not supposed to call him, he reminds you of this each time you do; most days, your sense of decency prevents you from doing so, leaves your finger hovering over his contact and makes you swallow the knot in your throat as you toss your phone aside. But, some days, you just can’t help yourself, you just need to hear his voice – even if it’s only to tell you that he can’t talk right now. Another ring, you gnaw on your bottom lip; you shouldn’t have called, he’s probably not going to answer, he’s probably-

“Hello?” His voice, low and steady, snaps you out of your thoughts. Your breath hitches and you grimace at how shaky your voice sounds when you greet him. Minho sighs, and the dismay in his tone as he says your name makes your heart sink. “You know you’re not supposed to call.”

“I know,” you say, voice still quivering. “I’m sorry, I just…” You waver, there’s so many ways you’d like to continue that sentence – I miss you, I need you, I love you. But you know, you know what his response would be, and you know that it’d only make you feel worse; you know this, so you bite your tongue and try to blink back the tears. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He sighs again and then there’s silence, so absolute and heavy, it makes you a bit nauseous; you begin to wonder if he hung up when you hear the noise of a door shutting.

“It’s okay.” He says, and all the anxiety leaves your body at once, your muscles relax and you can finally catch your breath. You listen as he tells you how he’s been and what he’s been up to; his voice feels like feathers, whisking you up into the air and embracing you. You try to savour the moment, to make it last as long as possible, but your eyelids grow heavy and you begin to lose focus. Before you slip into unconsciousness, you wish you could fall asleep to the lull of his voice every night.

To say you’re nervous would be an enormous understatement. Your legs shake as you stand before the door, finger poised over the doorbell; you consider making a dash back to the elevator, pretend you never came – you could tell Jisung that you’re terribly busy, and that you’re awfully sorry but you could not attend his party –, but before you’re able to turn around and make a run for it, your finger betrays you, and you hear the familiar bell sound resonate amongst the chatter inside the apartment.

You suck in a breath as the door begins to open, and your heart skips a beat when you find yourself face to face with Minho. He stares at you, a baffled look on his face, and utters your name, although it sounds more like a question.

“What are you-” He begins to ask, but, before he can finish, you find yourself being dragged inside by an all-too-excited Jisung.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Jisung exclaims. As he introduces you to some of his friends and shows you where the drinks are, you can’t help but look back at Minho, still by the door, still looking perplexed.

You try to enjoy yourself, you really do – or at the very least you try to look like you are, you didn’t want to spoil Jisung’s party; you try to down the drink Jisung got you, although the knot in your throat makes it nearly impossible for you to swallow, and you try to joke around with him and his friends, even though you can barely focus on what they’re saying. You really try not to glance over at Minho, and you try with all your might not to scowl at the way the girl in the seat next to his runs her hand up his knee as he makes her laugh, but if Minho’s raised-eyebrow look every time he catches you sneak a peak his way is anything to go by, you’re not making a very good job of concealing how you feel.

Jealous, that’s how you feel, utterly jealous, and it’s not like you had any right to be; it’s not like you had any right to march up to them and yank her hand away from his thigh, it’s not like you had the right to demand anything from him. So, as you feel yourself turning green with envy, you finish your drink in one big, burning gulp, hoping that it’ll fill the growing void in your stomach.

You hear one of Jisung’s friends hollering something about ‘bottoms up’, but as you put your glass down onto the table your head begins to feel light and the air feels stuffy, like there’s not enough of it, and oh god- is the room spinning?

You don’t remember much of the rest of the night.

You wake up the next morning, head pounding and stomach churning; you’re trying to discern why your pillow feels softer and why your blanket feels warmer when you notice that there’s an unexpected weight draped over your waist. This comes along with the realization that this is not your pillow, that is not your blanket and you are, in fact, not in your room; and yet, it feels so familiar, it’s soothing. You turn around, now facing the source of warmth and tranquillity, and find him staring back at you; you always thought Minho looked his best in the mornings, with his hair all tousled and his eyes only slightly open, as if not completely awake yet – you much preferred the half-asleep glaze covering his eyes, rather than the look of hurt that filled them when he came back to full consciousness.

He holds you tighter and you want to say, so much, how much you love him, but you know you shouldn’t, not after what you put him through – what you’re still putting him through; you know you shouldn’t call him, or visit him, or ask for anything from him, you know you’re not being fair – after all, you were the one to reject him, you were the one to shut him down as soon as he put his heart out in the open, you were the one who told him not to get attached. And yet, here you are, undisputedly devoted to him, and too selfish to grant him the one thing he asked for: time – time to move on from you, to heal, to accept that he could have you, but not in the way he wanted.

Here you are, and you wish you could stay like this forever; you wish you hadn’t said all the thing you said to him, you wish you had figured out sooner just how much you love him, how much you need him, and you wish it wouldn’t have had to come to losing him to realize how much you’d miss him. You wish you could tell him, this and so much more – what an outright fool you’d been, and how you wish you could turn back time and just say yes. Yes, I want you; yes, I love you. You know you shouldn’t, but it’s at times like these – when he’s holding you close and you can feel the warmth of his embrace – that the urge to just spill your guts bubbles up in your stomach, like butterflies flapping their wings.

“About last night,” Minho’s raspy morning voice jolts you from your thoughts. “Did you mean it?” It doesn’t take him much, if nothing else than the confused furrow of your brows, to realize that you most likely don’t remember. “Well, you were pretty wasted,” he chuckles.

Apparently, Jisung had thought it would be a wonderful idea to bring out the mics for his heavily intoxicated friends to sing some karaoke – which, if you were to ask him, Jisung still considers a great idea, even if his neighbours beg to disagree – and, in your drunken stupor, you had considered it an even better idea to sing a rendition of Stand By Me and dedicate it to Minho, right in front of everybody.

“I wish I had recorded it,” Minho laughs, “you sounded like my cats when they want food.” You groan, utterly embarrassed, and try to hide your burning, red face on the soft pillow beneath your head; Minho’s hold on your waist grows a little tighter.

“So, did you mean it?” He asks, voice light, almost like a whisper. “Do you love me?”

You look back into his eyes; now’s your chance, you can tell him – tell him everything: your feelings, your regrets, your hopes, your wants. But, for some reason, your eyes feel like they’re burning, and the words get stuck in your throat.

He sighs and looks away from you; his eyes water, he looks like he could cry, and he begins to pull away from you. This seems to do the trick – you snap out of it, and hold his arm in place; you still can’t manage to find your voice, so you do the next best things: you kiss him – you kiss him deep and hard, and hope that he can feel all the emotions you’re trying to convey through it. You tangle your hand in his hair and his body seems to relax; he pushes back against you and kisses you deeper, and you can feel the butterflies bursting like fireworks inside your stomach.

“Yes,” you gasp out, breathless after the kiss. “I love you, and I want to stand by you.”

(You spend the rest of the day in bed together, and only untangle your limbs from each other’s when Jisung barges in to tell Minho they got a noise complaint because of the previous night’s little karaoke session.)

[retvenkos]

survivors | d.m.

Harry Potter: Golden Trio Era - Draco x Slytherin! Halfbood!Reader, angst, slightest fluff

word count: 11.2k

tw: blood, mentions death, mentions of war, pessimistic ending

A/N: this could be read as a platonic reader, if you want.

Summary: Draco couldn’t fix the Vanishing Cabinet himself, no matter how hard he wanted to. (Y/n) hadn’t wanted to help him, but they decided to, despite themself. Neither knew each other very well, but there seemed to be an understanding. Perhaps they could fix it together, and perhaps (Y/n) could fix the broken boy, too. Or maybe both of them would be shattered beyond recognition.

i.

and i am angry at this world                 because i was not one of the innocent they decided to save.

ii.

During his sixth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy didn’t feel as alive as he once did. This castle was colder and quieter than it used to be, and as he patrolled the dungeon corridors for his prefect duties, he felt a chill in the air; the cold pricked the back of his neck - that bit of exposed skin between the ends of his hair and the stiff collar of his uniform. Despite himself, he twitched at it’s touch; the cold reminded him of darker memories that threatened to pull him under, reminding him of what happened over the summer.

If he closed his eyes, he was still there.

The harsh clicking of his father’s cane as he walked down the hall, someone else accompanying him by the sound of their footsteps. A voice that sounded like the hissing of a snake - high and cold and beckoning him forth. His mother’s frightened gaze and his father’s stiff jaw. The soft pleads of protest. But who were they to defy the Dark Lord...

Draco could still hear the sound of their approach, echoing against these aged, stone walls. The incessant sound filled his senses. His fingers twitched. His arm started to burn as the sound of footsteps came nearer. Echoing, echoing, echoing...

“You would be an idiot if you weren’t such a genius.”

A voice, not at all what he was expecting, brought Draco reeling into the present. The footsteps weren’t that of phantom memories, but the sound of someone in the castle - in this dungeon with him - traversing the corridors in the few moments before curfew.

“You could make a fortune off of your skills if you sold them the right way. What other students here can make their own spells?”

Draco stepped closer to the wall, his interest peaked. He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve, waiting for the voices to speak, once again. He wouldn’t scare them off. He had never been much good at being a prefect, anyway.

“Michael, we talked about this. They’re all a work in progress - do you remember what happened last time I tried them out? I won’t make a fool of myself because they aren’t perfect.”

“That was one time, and you knew things weren’t going to go well. And I can’t remember the last time Hogwarts pumped out an actually decent spell creator! The talented only come once every lifetime - you shouldn’t pass this up.”

The voices devolved into arguing for a moment, until one of them swore lowly. “It’s curfew. You need to get up to Ravenclaw Tower.”

“Think about it, (Y/n).”

“Go.”

Footsteps filled the corridor once again. Draco took a deft step backward, further into the shadows, and a fellow Slytherin rushed past the corridor, never noticing the prefect that watched them. Draco pushed his lips into a thin line, grey eyes narrowing just a bit. The echoes faded, and when the corridor was silent, he breathed. Running a hand through his hair, Draco turned away, disappearing into darkness and shadow.

iii.

When Draco Malfoy sat down next to them in Charms class, (Y/n) supposed it was an oversight. Rumors about Draco not feeling well had been circulating the Slytherin gossip lines for the whole two months that school had been in session; Malfoy had missed classes regularly, skipped out on meals completely, and seemed to be neglecting his usual bully behavior, trading it all for a personality that seemed to be more like that Blaise Zabini than the boy he used to be. Sitting next to (Y/n) had to be a symptom of this strange illness that seemed to have captured him - maybe he was too tired to care.

Yes, that seemed to be it - he was tired. He certainly looked it, when (Y/n) spared him a glance, their eyes flicking over to him for a half moment while Flitwick was demonstrating their lesson for the day.

There were dark circles under his eyes, a sort of gaunt appearance to his well shaped face, and even though he seemed to be very keen on stopping it, with his eyes focused the way they were, his hands seemed to be shaking, just slightly.

(Y/n) turned their attention back to the worn textbook in front of them, scratching notes on a spare bit of parchment. They tried to focus on the words written on the page, but their mind still wandered to the boy beside them.

Together, the two students’ thoughts swirled like winds in a tempest - never in one place at one time, but simultaneously everywhere. This world seemed to be pulling everyone in all possible directions, spreading them ever thin, as though trying to test when they would snap.

Both Slytherins, different as they were, weren’t the type to break.

Some days, they wished they were.

(Y/n) failed to notice the careful way Draco appraised them. His eyes flitted from their old school supplies to their mended robes, and yet the newness in other belongings that perhaps didn’t need to be bought anew every school year. (Y/n) eventually caught him staring, and Draco leveled his gaze with theirs.

“I need your help,” and even his voice resounded from his throat, as though he had no energy to sustain it in his chest.

(Y/n) blinked. Once, twice, three times. “I’m sorry?”

At the front of the classroom, Professor Flitwick was giving instruction on the Reducto curse, but his voice was fading into background noise, now, as (Y/n) stared at the boy beside them. Of all the things they could have guessed Draco Malfoy to say to them, that was not one.

“You know what I asked for.”

Again, he was tired - too tired to explain his baffling request, too tired to give any kind of context as to why he had come to them, or whatever he needed help for.

“My help?” They didn’t get so much as a sigh, which was interesting, to say the least. (Y/n) wanted to scoff, but they had to keep their voice low enough for the professor to not take notice. “Why would you- What purpose—” their mind eventually caught up with them ”—Why do you think I’d give it?”

“Because I’m—”

“Draco Malfoy, yes.” The scoff escaped them, agitation setting in. (Y/n) pulled their gaze away from the boy to turn back to the front of the classroom, eyes narrowing as they pretended to read the writing on the blackboard. “What would your father think of you getting help from the likes of me?” They all but spat their words under their breath.

Draco seemed to twitch uncomfortably at the mention of his father, but he played it off with a roll of his eyes - the first real reaction (Y/n) had got out of him the entire conversation. “He’d think it shrewd of me.”

“Like keeping your enemies close?”

“Like keeping allies near. Us Slytherins are all one big brotherhood, aren’t we?”

“I think you muddied those waters when you’re obsession with blood purity extended to belittling us halfbreeds.” (Y/n) fixed Draco with a withering stare. He looked down at the desk, scrutinizing the aging wood. His demeanor shifted to something deeper than what lay on the surface, and a wiser person would have stopped there, but (Y/n) couldn’t let it go. “Suddenly you want to be family?”

Draco breathed in deeply as though by expanding his chest and allowing for more oxygen, the tension between them would dissipate. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. The two lapsed into silence, and Professor Flitwick's voice floated over to the two of them, regaining precedence.

“It’s important to keep in mind this spell is very volatile. It’s unlikely you’ll get it correct on your first try…”

(Y/n) allowed themself to decompress, their shoulders dropping and their hands relaxing on the page of their textbook.

For what could Draco Malfoy possibly need their help? They weren’t even friends, but he had the gall to call them family.

“I’d settle for partners.”

The bell rang. Students around them started to pack up, hurrying to their next class. Draco didn’t move a muscle.

(Y/n) fixed him with a stare that betrayed their display of anger and showed some of the interest within. They picked up the bottle-green bag beside them. “Then I suppose that depends on how much you’ve changed over the summer,” they spat, already standing to leave.

“Quite enough, I think you’ll find.”

(Y/n) paused on their way out the door but resisted the urge to turn around, instead pushing forward through the bottlenecked door with renewed conviction.

Who did Draco Malfoy think he had become, asking for favors like they were old chums or something of the like? What did he even need help for, that he couldn’t ask his posse of loyal followers? That Blaise Zabini was smart, and Theo Nott wasn’t too bad, either. Of course, Theo was a halfblood too, so maybe Draco had managed to piss him off in his fourth year as well, when he started to sneer at halfbloods as though he were somehow greater than them. It wouldn’t be surprising, really, if Draco had somehow managed to alienate all of his “friends” in some way or another. He wasn’t known to have much of a filter with his thoughts.

Maybe that was what all of this was about. Draco had mentioned his father thinking their conversation was “shrewd” - maybe Lucius Malfoy had a little conversation with his son about not alienating the people around him. Perhaps there was a little father-son chat about revitalizing the family image with the Death Eaters and the rise of You-Know-Who being what it was. How quaint. Did they have him updating his father in person, too? Is that why he looked like he hadn’t slept since summer?

Part of (Y/n) insisted that they were being overdramatic about all of this and that they should get a hold of their emotions. No one was really at liberty of being emotional during times like these, and maybe, deep down, Draco really had become something that wasn’t beneath asking genuine help of someone without having ulterior motives.

After all, he had been tired - without real signs of deception or bigger purpose… and he was… shaking - as though genuinely nervous or afraid and.... and he had said something that made them stop in their tracks… that the summer had changed him “quite enough,” said with a sort of bitterness and resignation that was unlike any kind of Draco Malfoy (Y/n) knew…

(Y/n) slid into their Herbology seat with practiced ease, and when they went to grab their textbook, they came up with an Astronomy book, instead.

“What?”

(Y/n) didn’t have Astronomy, and this textbook was far too nice to be theirs. Maybe it belonged to their roommate? But then why was it in their bag? (Y/n) clearly had the right bag since they had pulled out their textbook in Charms, and—

(Y/n) flipped to the inside cover of the Astronomy textbook in front of them.

Property of Draco Malfoy.

Professor Sprout started the lecture just as (Y/n) swore under their breath.

Their Herbology partner turned to them questioningly, and (Y/n) asked to share their textbook for the day. Their partner complied readily enough and (Y/n) shot them a smile. The rest of the lesson, (Y/n) calculated the quickest way from the greenhouses to the Slytherin common room, where they would no doubt find Draco Malfoy skipping yet another meal and doing whatever it was that occupied his time. They had switched bags, somehow, and (Y/n) was keen on getting theirs back.

When Herbology was finally over, (Y/n) all but sprinted to the dungeons. Of all days for this to happen...

When they reached the steps that led down to the common room, they saw Draco Malfoy standing at the bottom. A book was in his hands, and as (Y/n) descended the stairs, they got a better look at it.

Their heart dropped.

Draco was flipping through the pages of a tiny, leatherbound book. It looked inconspicuous enough, a kind of journal that was old and weathered, but (Y/n) knew who it belonged to, and what was hidden inside.

It was (Y/n)’s spellbook - always stuffed to the bottom of their bag in case inspiration or genious struck All of their spells were in there - from the nearly refined to their half-baked disasters, every spell (Y/n) had ever had the idea to create was in that book, along with every failure. If Draco had looked at their disastrous attempts from third year...

“I’m not here for games, Draco.”

“Neither am I.” Draco held out the book to them and (Y/n) snatched it, also taking the school bag that was at his feet - no doubt theirs. “I only needed to check - Ravenclaws have a way of dramatizing things, and since you weren’t happy to help…”

“Check what?”

In the half-light, it was hard to tell what Draco was feeling, or at least, what he’d allow to show. But when he spoke, his voice still carried a fatigue that wore him down and made him appear as though without an agenda. “That you can help me.”

(Y/n) rolled their eyes. “Again, what makes you think that I will?”

“You need money, don’t you? I recognize signs of wear when I see them, and you were rather quick to get back your used textbooks - probably borrowed, since you don’t have any older siblings and our textbooks aren’t as old as our parents. The (L/n) family must have come into financial trouble recently,” Draco reported with a sigh, as though he found no glee in this run around of his. Was this the same boy who used to flaunt his observational prowess, making scathing remarks about the most minute details of others?

(Y/n) wanted to snap that they didn’t need his money, but they had enough common sense to not be proud. The Malfoys were one of the richest families at Hogwarts. If Draco was willing to pay... at least he would be good for the money… and he had been looking at their spellbook. If he needed a spell, it would be nice to experiment on someone else’s galleon, wouldn’t it?

(Y/n) swallowed. “What do you need?”

“A spell, and your secrecy.”

(Y/n) nodded slowly, still weighing their choices. They had nearly made up their mind, but something still ate at the back of their mind, like an itch that couldn’t be satiated. “Why did you think I’d help you?”

“I knew you would.” Draco fiddled with his sleeve. “Because you want to know my secret.”

iv.

When Draco said they were going to the Room of Hidden Things, (Y/n) hadn’t expected the room itself to be hidden. It would have been ridiculous, and yet, looking at it, everything seemed to make sense. The room only appeared when you asked for it, and it contained thousands of knick knacks, all sorted and piled on top of each other haphazardly, the facade of order.

If everything ever hidden lay within this room, (Y/n) wouldn’t be surprised. The room seemed to stretch off into infinity, the walls on either side disappearing behind stacks of lost things that reached impossibly high, never appearing to meet a back wall. Everything in the Room of Hidden Things was seemingly left to oblivion, stacked and scattered with no real rhyme or reason, things left behind and obliterated from memory. As they walked deeper in, (Y/n) found themself searching, as though there was something they needed to find.

If Draco felt the same urge, he hid it well, winding around piles of lost things like one would walk around their own home in the dark, completely aware of where everything was and able to avoid things that others tripped on.  (Y/n) found themself wondering, ‘How many times had he been in here?’

Draco stopped in front of a tall, imposing cabinet with wrought iron detailing. The black wood seemed so stark against the rest of the room that (Y/n) wondered how anyone could miss it, and yet, if they turned their head as to put it in their periphery, the cabinet seemed to disappear.

Funny, how it could be there, but not.

After a moment, (Y/n) was able to place why it looked so familiar. The Vanishing Cabinet. Why was it here, of all places?

“It’s broken and no mending charms have worked on it - not even in conjunction with others.”

(Y/n) nodded, opening the door to the cabinet and taking a look inside. So that’s the kind of spell he needed.

“You probably heard about Montague getting stuck in a kind of limbo last year when the Weasley twins shoved him in.”

“So it has a twin.” It was more a statement than a question, but when (Y/n) caught Draco’s eye, they found an affirmative answer that almost looked guilty. (Y/n) turned away, rifling through their bag to find their creation book.

(Y/n)’s mind was flitting about, again, trying to call up all the information they had ever learned about passageways and vanishing cabinets, mending spells and charms. To modify a spell would probably be too simple for the complexities of a Vanishing Cabinet. They would have to start from scratch. (Y/n) flipped to the page where they wrote down the methodology of apparition spells. Maybe the answer lay within the creation of the spell rather than the outcome. Apparition spells might apply to the spontaneity of the Cabinet...

Draco handed (Y/n) a book or two that were clearly ancient, the pages themselves written in fading ink.

“I found these in that pile—” he gestured to a stack of books that reached into the heavens “—they’re the only decent information I’ve found so far.”

(Y/n) nodded and moved to sit on the floor, placing the books carefully in front of them. Draco retreated to the base of the tower of books, picking up a few that were scattered around a large chair that caught (Y/n)’s eye. It seemed out of place - pulled from the pile of furniture that was closer to the entrance and devoid of the thick layer of dust that seemed to permeate everything in this haven of the lost.

After a moment, (Y/n) realized it as a makeshift bed - a blanket that looked like it once belonged to a Hufflepuff thrown over the arm, a stack of clothes next to the chair, and Draco’s bag hanging from it.

How often was he in here?

(Y/n) turned their gaze back to the Vanishing Cabinet before them, trying not to dwell on what the Slytherin Prince had become. They had a job to do; a Vanishing Cabinet needed fixing.

But why, of all things, a Vanishing Cabinet?

“Planning on disappearing, Malfoy?” Their tone was light, playful. (Y/n) turned to face him, and he was stock still.

Draco didn’t respond, just looked at the cabinet with an intensity that seemed to bring the weight of the word onto his shoulders. He tugged at his left sleeve, and for a fleeting moment, an answer was swimming in his eyes.

‘Yes.’

v.

It had been around two weeks since (Y/n) had been first introduced to the Vanishing Cabinet, and ever since, their evenings were spent in the Room of Hidden Things, their attention split between homework and the puzzle before them.

One part of them was intent on creating the right spell. If they were able to do it correctly, this new spell could be revolutionary, potentially changing the way mending spells were thought of for years to come. With the way that Vanishing Cabinets worked, it wasn’t just the cabinet that needed to be fixed, or the passageway in between, but the space that was warped when the door to the cabinet was closed. It was mystifying, to say the least, and the possibilities were endless.

Another, more nagging side of (Y/n) was intent on figuring out why Draco needed a Vanishing Cabinet in the first place. What purpose did he require of it? Better yet, what purpose could it serve? The possibilities for this, too, could be infinite.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?”

Michael Corner, their friend of six years, bumped his shoulder into theirs. They were walking to Potions, and he had been chatting about how he hadn’t seen them in a while - not since they started slipping out of the Great Hall early after dinner.

“Yes - you think I’ve been trying to perfect my failed spells from third year and I’m too proud to tell you that I actually do listen to your advice.”

Michael grinned. “So… are you?”

“I am working on my spells, if that’s what you’re after.”

“And have you taken my advice on selling them?”

(Y/n) thought for a moment. After all, they were getting paid for what they were doing for Draco, so technically a ‘yes’ would be appropriate. But if Michael started to ask who bought it and for what reasons, (Y/n) wouldn’t be able to say.

“Maybe,” they said, lamely.

It seemed to be enough for Michael, though, and he talked excitedly about the possibilities as they made their way into the Potions classroom. (Y/n) approached their seat and Michael groaned. “It sucks that Slughorn assigned us partners. I’m stuck with Hermione Granger and, well, you know how she is. Potions could be so much better if we got to choose who we work with.”

(Y/n) sat down in their seat, sighing before fishing for their textbook in their bag. “You’re not the one stuck with Malfoy,” they deadpanned as usual, but the words didn’t fit as naturally in their mouth as they once did.

“Yeah, but when does he even show up to class, anymore?” For emphasis, Michael slid into the Slytherin’s assigned seat.

The two devolved into their usual banter, talking about common interests and idiotic assignments. Professor Slughorn walked into the room two minutes or so before class started and when Michael swore, he fixed him with a stare. Things were as they always were, but then something changed.

 Draco Malfoy walked into the classroom, and Michael was surprised, but quick to slip out of his seat. He chose to hover near (Y/n)’s end of the table, and while he was careful not to stare, his eyes flicked to Draco. He wasn’t the only one; the whole class seemed to notice Draco’s presence, but Malfoy seemed to be avoiding the production of it all - very unlike him. The pallor in his skin didn’t seem to be getting worse, but the melancholic air that seemed to follow him was palpable.

Any day, now, the rumors would get worse and the speculation would start. What was eating at Draco Malfoy?

(Y/n) had been working with him closely for two weeks, now, and even they weren’t any closer to figuring out the truth.

Harry Potter seemed to have particularly keen eyes, whispering to his friends without losing eye contact.

The whole of Hogwarts seemed to be holding its breath, unsure of what was to come, but anticipating how bad the storm was going to be. Michael tried to ignore the shift in demeanor, nudging (Y/n) with his arm.

“I’m still surprised that Harry Potter ended up getting the Felix Felicis - I was honestly expecting Padma or Hermione to get it. Since when is Harry a potion making prodigy?”

Beside (Y/n), Draco stiffened. (Y/n) let out a puff of air like a subdued scoff and Michael smiled. So the Potter-Malfoy rivalry was still going strong.

Michael scratched out a note on a spare bit of parchment and stuck it in (Y/n) textbook with a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll go see if I can snag some of Potter’s notes, yeah? Maybe he can spare a bit of genius.”

With that he was off, and (Y/n) rolled their eyes before turning to the front of the classroom. Draco was still on edge beside them, his shoulders taut and head bowed in such a way that (Y/n) couldn’t catch his eye.

It was later, when (Y/n) was flipping through their textbook to the instructions for the potion they were to make, that they found the note Michael had left behind.

‘At least you know you have something to make his blood boil.’

vi.

“We’re going to need space,” (Y/n) muttered to Draco. They had agreed to meet by the statue of Lachlan the Lanky when going to the Room of Hidden Things, and Draco was already there when (Y/n) arrived. “Testing out this spell could be dangerous in such a cluttered space - the entire room could be destroyed.”

Draco nodded deftly and (Y/n) could tell by the way his eyes narrowed that he was thinking of a way to fix their problem. It had been a little over a month since the two started to work together, and after being Potions and Alchemy partners, working beside each other during their free period, and spending their nights in front of the Vanishing Cabinet, the two knew each other better than they cared to admit. (Y/n) still held fast to the idea that they were acquaintances at most, but there were times when they saw him in the Room of Hidden Things, sitting on the chair he used for a bed, and they knew what he was thinking. Acquaintances couldn’t do that, could they?

Draco walked past a section of the corridor three times, his perpetually tired expression furrowed into concentration, and the vanishing door appeared. As soon as they could, the two Slytherins ushered themselves in. This time, they were met with a bright light.

(Y/n) blinked furiously, and when their eyes adjusted, they realized they were looking at the sky.

Bright blue and without clouds, the sky seemed to mimic that of a summer’s day. The sun that beat down was a welcome change from the cold winds of December, and (Y/n) let the warmth fill them as they took in the view. The Room of Hidden Things had somehow shifted into a vast, open field that was full of tall, yellowing grass.

The field seemed to stretch into oblivion, never quite ending as it reached a horizon point. (Y/n) felt something like calm wash over them. This place carried a mixture between knowledge and peace. A little ways out, but close enough to be identified were the only two things that upset the sprawling landscape - a willow tree with low hanging branches, far more serene than the Whomping Willow that Hogwarts students were familiar with, and the Vanishing Cabinet.

“What is this place?” (Y/n) still gaped at what lay around them, eyes eagerly taking in every color that seemed to bleed in the way a painting would.

“The Room of Requirement is whatever you need it to be.”

“And the Room of Hidden Things…?”

“Inside it.”

Draco looked worse, somehow, in the full light of the sun; his skin was more pale, like death had already touched him and all he had left to do was walk to his grave. (Y/n) couldn't look long.

The two started toward the Vanishing Cabinet. (Y/n) felt the distinct urge to put their hands out to feel the grass brush against their skin, to see just how real this beautiful illusion was. If the room could create this, what else could it fathom?

If (Y/n) could stay here forever, would this room create a reality beautiful enough to keep them?

(Y/n) sat their bag down a few paces away from the Vanishing Cabinet and rolled up their sleeves. Draco retreated to the foot of the weeping willow. (Y/n) checked it to make sure that it stood far enough away from the blast zone. It seemed alright.

(Y/n) placed a spare bit of parchment into the Cabinet and took a few steps back.

“Harmonia Nectere Deambulatio!”

(Y/n) turned their wrist precisely and grey wisps of light illuminated from the tip of their wand. The Vanishing Cabinet before them lurched forward abruptly and (Y/n) staggered a few steps backward. The Cabinet righted itself and after a few moments of hesitantly watching it to see if the cabinet would be pitching itself to and fro once more, (Y/n) quickly approached and opened it.

The paper inside was far worse than what they expected; the parchment shredded and burning, as though it did some acrobatic routine for the circus with very poor aim. (Y/n) quickly doused the flames and turned back to their book, scratching out the failed attempt.

(Y/n) sighed and started again, trying out a few variations of the spell they had already drafted up, praying that one of them would work. After an hour or so of the Vanishing Cabinet turning out botched attempts, (Y/n) decided they needed to rethink the spell itself, and not the delivery.

This wasn’t their first spell to go wrong, but it was definitely the hardest, since gauging what needed to be fixed was near impossible. (Y/n) figured that it had to be the passage between each Cabinet. The slicing of the paper was most likely a failure to use the passage - it was torn on its way to the other cabinet and when fragmented, couldn’t be supported through the warping of space, so it was spit back out and was lit on fire from the friction.

(Y/n)’s focus, then, should shift from the spontaneity of the Vanishing Cabinet and work on the passage rather than the walk through it. It was the space between that needed warping… perhaps they should look at their notes of Transfiguration spells, they were particularly good at warping space… a safe bet, too, since Transfiguration was fairly testable and not overly theoretical, compared to other spells...

(Y/n) looked at one of the books Draco had given them a week prior. From what those books taught, tangibles were off the table with Vanishing Cabinets. A safe bet might not fix anything. But anything else might be more risk than it was worth...

Maybe a principle of Alchemy could be used. Transmutation might be the key - not shifting the length of the passage, but shifting the properties of the passage, making it safer to traverse… of course, transmutation spells were highly dangerous when not perfected, and seeing as most of the creation of their spell had to be theory rather than tested reality...

Both (Y/n) and Draco would have to be very sure it was the route they wanted to take, and then they would have to be incredibly careful. Especially in a room where space itself warped… if anything went wrong, the spell could kill both of them.

(Y/n) had never been the best at Alchemy, but Draco was a prodigy when it came to the subject. It was one of the few classes he showed up for, anymore, and since (Y/n) had gotten better at reading him, they noticed that Draco actually took interest in the subject. He seemed to be fascinated by the idea that one thing could be made into something completely different with dedication and patience.

But how much could (Y/n) trust Draco? He hadn’t screwed them over, yet, but would he, eventually? Maybe it was only a matter of time…

But, then again, what did he stand to gain?

Both of them were working day and night to solve this problem. Draco may not have fully understood how spells were made, but his research was invaluable, and there was no way either could do it on their own. Fixing a Vanishing Cabinet was improving upon Ancient Magic, all of which was confusing and uncertain, to say the least. There was a reason why there were few Vanishing Cabinets in existence, and a reason as to why Dumbledore didn’t fix the Cabinet himself. It’s near impossible. There’s no way Draco could do it on his own.

He needed (Y/n), and he seemed to know it, too.

(Y/n) sighed and walked over to the willow tree where Draco sat, calling out to him, their voice faint, like it would be in a real, empty field. They parted the tall grass as they went, feeling the scratch of it on their legs and arms. The sun seemed to have dipped lower in the sky, but the suspension of time that the Room of Requirement always held still stood. (Y/n) could only guess how long they’d been here - a few hours, maybe - but it didn’t feel like it had been long enough.

“We’ll have to shift our theory - I think the basis of this spell has to be Alchemical properties or at the very least Transfiguration. It’s tricky, though, since this magic is so old…”

Draco was asleep, a book from the Room of Hidden Things opened on his stomach. He looked disheveled, pale blonde hair mussed up, his robes in disarray. His sleeves, always pulled low, were starting to ride up on his left arm and (Y/n) could see the skin beneath, pink and rubbed raw, as though he scratched and agitated the length of his forearm all day long.

(Y/n) sat down beside him, far enough away as to give him privacy, and yet close enough so that neither was alone. The field around them suddenly felt more exposed than before - (Y/n) understood why Draco chose to sit underneath the tree; the low hanging branches of the willow tree created a sense of security - like they could hide, if they had to.

Draco had nightmares. It didn’t take long to realize that - he twitched and fidgeted in his sleep, expression twisting into something torn between fear and pain. (Y/n) wanted to wake him from his spell, but when they looked at him and saw the pallor of his skin and the circles underneath his eyes, they knew it was best to keep him resting.

Sometimes you fight a war on two fronts, and there is no escaping it. Draco needed to rest. And who was (Y/n) to decide whether the terrors of sleeping or waking were worse?

At some point, they must have fallen asleep, too, because they awoke to Draco shaking their shoulder, his eyes averted and his hands cold. The painted sun had dipped over the nonexistent horizon, and the moon was out.

“We need to go. It’s after curfew.”

(Y/n) stood up and smoothed out their uniform, nodding deftly.

“I’m a prefect, so just follow my lead and no one will ask questions.”

vii.

“We’ll try out the transmutation theory.”

(Y/n) pulled their gaze away from their Charms essay to stare up at Draco incredulously. It was nearing midnight, and with most of the students being gone for the holiday, the Slytherin common room was empty.  Draco had just entered and was on his way to the dormitories, but he stopped on his way and spoke to (Y/n) in a low tone.

“You know the risks, right?” Draco just stared pensively into the fire that blazed beside them. “Are you willing to die for this?”

Maybe it was the flames that threatened tears to his eyes. “I’m dead, either way.”

viii.

The bell rang, signaling the end of Transfiguration, and the classroom erupted with life, people closing their books and racing out the door. As far as last classes went, Transfiguration was okay, but at the end of the day, everyone wanted to get out as quickly as possible. Michael nudged (Y/n) when he was shoving off, reminding them to grab some dinner before they holed themselves up for the evening. (Y/n) shot back a retort and he flipped them off as he left, earning a scolding from McGonagall.

“Sorry, professor.”  Michael ducked his head apologetically, but when McGonagall turned around, he caught (Y/n)’s eye and winked.

(Y/n) rolled their eyes, shoving a quill in their bag as McGonagall fixed her attention to them. “(Y/n) (L/n).”

The Slytherin snapped to attention. “Yes, professor?”

“Would you remind Mr. Malfoy that he still has my class, even if he chooses not to attend?” McGonagall took a step closer and (Y/n) held their gaze, more surprised than anything else. “It’s not imperative he show for lessons, but he does need to turn in his work if he expects to continue with this subject.”

(Y/n) was caught off guard. “O-Of course.”

“He is slated to take Transfiguration next year, and N.E.W.T.s will not be kind to those who don’t dedicate themselves.” McGonagall looked at (Y/n) over the top of her glasses, seemingly more stern than before. “I know you and Mr. Malfoy are close - perhaps you will be able to motivate him.”

(Y/n) shrugged their bag onto their shoulders, a little too eager to leave. McGonagall seemed to take note, but waited patiently for (Y/n) to speak. “Oh, um… Draco and I are just partners in class.”

McGonagall pressed her lips into a thin line. Was it… amused? Knowing? “I’ve heard, you frequently meet up by the statue of Lachlan the Lanky, as well.” Her eyes still carried that intensity. Perhaps her gaze was more of a warning.

(Y/n) looked down and swallowed, mind racing. “I’ll tell him, professor.”

“Thank you.”

(Y/n) walked out of the classroom, and it wasn’t until they were in the dungeons that they dared to breathe. McGonagall's words were inconspicuous enough, but it was the way she said it that struck (Y/n) to the core. If McGonagall knew about them meeting up at the statue, what else did she know? Maybe it wasn’t much, but she felt justified to bring it up. And in that tone…

She could know anything, maybe even more than (Y/n) - and if McGonagall knew, surely Dumbledore did, as well.

When they entered the Slytherin common room, Draco was inside, sitting with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. They were talking in hushed tones, and the concern in their gaze was palpable. If it has been a few months ago, (Y/n) would have pretended like they hadn’t seen anything and gone avoided their stare. But now, they just pressed forth.

At the sight of (Y/n) approaching, Pansy stood and pulled Blaise with her, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder before leaving. (Y/n) locked eyes with the two retreating figures and there was something grateful in their stares.

(Y/n) averted their gaze.

“Draco,” (Y/n) sat down on a couch across from him and kept their voice low. “I think Professor McGonagall knows.”

Draco was careful not to show interest in his body language, but his eyes were sharp, wary. (Y/n) leaned in a bit, telling him all that happened, recalling the strange way that McGonagall looked at them and how she knew where they met up. The shadows of the fire played against Draco’s gaunt features, making him look almost ghostlike as he listened intently.

“The only reason I could see her keeping tabs on you is because of that rumor Harry Potter is spreading about you giving that cursed necklace to Katie Bell.” (Y/n) shook their head, blinking and they missed the way that Draco froze at the mention. “But either way, we need to be more careful.”

For a moment, the two just sat in silence, eyes intent on their hands as they tried to see a place beyond this present. Both were unaware of what the other was thinking, and yet they both wished the same - that is world would stop around them - if only for a moment.

The fire behind them raged and the voices of those surrounding them didn’t cease.

(Y/n) sighed and tipped their head back, looking at the glass ceiling above them, dark waters rippling from the movement of merfolk and the Giant Squid. What would it feel like to be suspended for your whole life, never coming up for air? Peaceful, perhaps.

“Don’t worry about the professors.” Draco spoke suddenly, and (Y/n) sat up to find him mimicking their actions, still looking up at the lake, his hands fidgeting with the sleeves of his button-up. “They know perfectly well they could stop us if they wanted to. They could know everything if they wanted. But they don’t.” There was a bitterness in his tone that seeped in slowly, then all at once. “They don’t meddle in anything I do. They don’t concern themselves with us. They don’t—”

Draco cut himself short. (Y/n) looked at him for a minute, their expression soft but broken - a little wondering. The wondered if they understood Draco a little more - maybe they recognized that anger, simmering on low, the fire just able to be sustained but burning out.

“They don’t save us, do they?” and it was a whisper, but it felt earth shattering.

Draco sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. “Not us.”

ix.

On Wednesday nights, Alchemy students were expected to go up to the 16th turret where classes were usually held to do an extra lesson. Part of their curriculum required the moonlight filtering through stained glass to complete, and Slughorn said there was no way around it. It was the only night of the week when Draco and (Y/n) didn’t go to the Room of Requirement to work on their project, the only night when they breathed just a little easier.

The sky was lighter than the usual inky night. The moon was full and brightly reflecting, and it’s solemnity in the sky was a stark contrast to Professor Slughorn’s excitement as he flitted about, giving instructions on how to complete the assignment. There were a few stars that managed to twinkle in the sky, and (Y/n) found themselves transfixed by them, wishing they were admiring the night sky for stargazing, instead of work

It was much easier, admiring something from a distance; dealing with things closer to the ground was heavier on the heart - it took more of a toll.

Draco worked beside them quietly. Things between them usually were quiet, with the occasional word or moment of recognition in the heart of the other. Questions weren’t usually welcome, but (Y/n) could sneak in a few, every once in a while. Especially during Alchemy; Draco was more relaxed up here - almost content.

Slughorn went over to Padma Patil at the front of the classroom, leaving the pair of Slytherin’s in shared solitude.

“I can’t imagine you’re sleeping well, in the Room of Hidden Things.” (Y/n) whispered so no one would hear, sure to make their tone soft, unlike anything that might set the other into a mood. Draco turned to them for a moment, impassive, but didn’t say a word. (Y/n) tried again. “I realize the Cabinet’s important, but enough to sacrifice your health? Why?”

More silence. There had been a time (Y/n) wouldn’t have minded.

“Can’t you tell me anything?”

Draco’s jaw flexed, and he was so thin it stuck out more than normal, sharp with a jagged edge. (Y/n) eyed him with a guarded expression of their own, allowing silence to lapse between them as Slughorn walked by. He checked on their progress with an impressed hum, and once the professor was out of earshot, (Y/n) interrogated Draco once more.

“I just want to know something - this is dangerous for me, too.”

Draco seemed hesitant. After a moment, he spoke, “I have to do this,” he whispered, almost more to himself than anyone else.

“I don’t understand why.”

“No, you don’t.” Draco looked at them sharply but (Y/n) wasn’t one to back down. His eyes flicked around the room, as if to see if anyone noticed his sudden movement, but no one seemed to take note. Still, Draco turned back to his work, shooting his next words out of the side of his mouth, eyes blazing with something that was white-hot, but not anger. “And you wouldn’t.”

“So I get to do your dirty work, but without an explanation? Did you forget we’re being watched?” (Y/n) shook their head, expression tight with anger.

“If I don’t do this, I’ll die. Is that a good enough explanation for you?” Draco’s jaw twitched and (Y/n) heaved a sigh, through with his dramatics. Every day it got worse and Draco didn’t seem to be opening up anytime soon. It was exhausting, and for what? A few Galleons? A feeling like they were somehow helping him? 

A secret? Draco was fiddling with his left sleeve, again, and (Y/n) had the familiar feeling that they already knew the answer to any question they might ask.

The rest of the evening wore on in silence. Both Slytherins were tense with emotion, thoughts swirling around them, the tension in the air almost thick enough to taste. Occasionally, the sounds of others wafted towards them - Slughorn’s footsteps, excited whispers, low swears and were quickly reprimanded - but neither spoke a word or did so much as to spare the other a glance. Eventually, Slughorn dismissed everyone, walking out himself, and the only two left were Draco and (Y/n).

(Y/n) stood up and gathered their things, and after a moment's hesitation, faced Draco with a guarded stare. They breathed in, “I’m going to figure out what’s happening, Draco. But I’m not going to like it if I have to figure it out on my own.”

With that, (Y/n) turned to leave. But before they could walk away, Draco had caught their arm. (Y/n) turned back around with a sigh. He was standing, now, and the moonlight that filtered through the stained glass window drowned him in deep shades of red. 

“Do you know my family’s allegiance in this war?”

(Y/n) felt their blood turn cold. “Well, I…” they stammered, “I figured—”

“Then you have your explanation,” he cut them off bitterly,  and was quick to look away, releasing his hold on them and cleaning up his things.

(Y/n) blinked. Once, twice, three times. Tightening their grip on their bag, they walked towards the door to open it, but their hand rested on the knob. Their mind was like a tempest - never in one place at one time, but simultaneously everywhere, trying to remember everything they had ever believed in and everything they thought they knew.

“We’re meeting again tomorrow, right?” And (Y/n) hated the way their voice sounded; soft and unsure. They looked back to see Draco - really see him - but his expression was just as conflicted as ever, just as pained and stiff and grasping. It was almost as though he were drowning in his own sin, bloody and red.

After a moment, he nodded, grey eyes pausing, for once, never leaving theirs.

“Then I’ll meet you there.”

x.

Draco passed (Y/n) the apple and they set it down in the middle of the Vanishing Cabinet, it’s lively green skin stark against the black cabinet. They shut the door carefully, and took a step back.

Yesterday, for the first time in their five months of working together, a piece of parchment Vanished properly. After three different theories on the spell, about 12 different spell variations, and many late nights, it was finally working. There was a sort of peace in that, and yet something akin to dread seemed to settle in the air - almost thicker than the dust that permeated the Room of Hidden Things.

Draco seemed to feel it, too. His weight seemed to settle heavier in his bones, his entire essence dragged downward, somewhere where he couldn’t be found. They weren’t going to be saved by anyone but themselves, but sometimes it seemed Draco didn’t have the fight in him. Not anymore.

His hands were shaking, and the boy made to fix the cuffs of his sleeves. (Y/n) reached out and grabbed his hand and he turned to them, sharply. (Y/n) didn’t say anything, just squeezed his hands once, then let go. His hands stilled.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

It was best done as a whisper, with the slightest curl of the wrist. The light was soft and melancholic. The Vanishing Cabinet didn’t make a sound nor shudder, just stood there, imposing as ever.

Draco opened the cabinet. It was empty.

Despite themselves, both smiled.

He closed the door.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The wrought iron was cold as (Y/n) pulled the cabinet open, once more. They picked up the apple, same as before, and it was perfect. (Y/n) turned back to Draco and gave him a solemn nod. He walked over to the bird cage that stood beside his makeshift bed, pulling out the white songbird within. It sang.

Draco closed the door.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The singing stopped, and (Y/n) didn’t need to open the door to know that it worked. But they did, and the cabinet was empty. When the cabinet was secured again, and all that was left was to say those three words, they both hesitated. The two Slytherin’s stared at each other, unwilling to breathe in fear that it might not work.

Or worse, maybe it would.

Draco lifted his wand slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was thick, but each word carefully crafted. “Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The silence was deafening. Draco’s eyes flicked to (Y/n), and when he saw his own fears reflected in their gaze, he swallowed hard.

Inside, the bird was dead, it’s tiny, white body sitting in a sea of darkness. (Y/n) picked it up, knowing they had to determine how it died to fix what had gone wrong when it rematerialized. When the bird was cupped in their hand, it’s body was still warm.

They turned around and Draco was crying.

xi.

The Room of Hidden Things was a maze. Without windows or any real sense of the passage of time, tit could feel claustrophobic and dense. The candles and torches the endless room used for light threw long shadows and at times, there was something lonely about the place. On occasion, though, when (Y/n) and Draco spent afternoons amongst the clutter and set candles near them, the room could feel cozy - maybe even warm.

The two had been working quietly for a half hour or so when (Y/n) felt the itch to ask a question. As always, they pondered letting it pass, but their curiosity got the better of them. They set their quill down and turned to look at the boy across from them. “Tell me something about Draco Malfoy that no one else knows."

Draco, used to questions by now and in a better mood than most days, didn’t bother to look up, but responded, anyway. “Why?”

“You learned a few secrets of mine when you skimmed my spell creation book. It’s only fair that I get to use something against you.”

“You know about this place.”

(Y/n) looked at him unimpressed, but still, Draco didn’t raise his head. They sighed. “Give me something more than that. Technically, this is my secret, too.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but his quill stopped scratching, and he closed the textbook before him. “Like what?”

“Like…” (Y/n) shrugged as Draco watched them, his grey eyes lighter than usual, less filled with the weight of all things. “Alright, I’m allergic to pumpkin, but I wanted to try pumpkin juice so badly in our first year that I had to go to the infirmary on the first day of school—” (Y/n) was smiling at the memory, and it was the first bit of happiness they had allowed themself to have for a while. “—it was nothing too bad, and Madam Pomfrey was quick to fix me up, but I couldn’t taste for the next week. A real shame, too, seeing as the first few feasts are always the best.”

Draco’s lips were pressed into a thin line, only the very edges curling upwards, so slightly anyone else would have missed it. A genuine smile. (Y/n) was proud of themself for having coaxed it out of him. Funny, how much they had started to care.

“Something idiotic, then?” and the lilt to his voice was almost amused.

(Y/n) rolled their eyes. “You have to have something.”

Draco thought for a moment and (Y/n) watched him as he tried to pull a memory. They noted how much younger he looked, here, in a light dim enough to be considered conspiratorial, but bright enough to be distinct from the rest of their existence. It was almost as though they belonged here, two more lost things in a sea of used belongings.

“I tried to grow out my hair like my father’s in the summer before our first year.” Draco’s voice was soft in reminiscing, but it grew louder with fondness. “A cousin told me I looked like a girl and I cut it off that same night. My mother fixed it for me in the morning, right before we went to Diagon Alley.”

(Y/n) let out the ghost of a chuckle, but when Draco joined them, their laugher grew, echoing through the endless room.

xii.

“So... tell me, is Slytherin gossip really just made up of lies, or are you actually hanging out with Draco Malfoy? Is that where you’ve been sneaking off to?”

Michael and (Y/n) walked side by side, catching up for the first time all week. They had been heading to lunch when Michael realized he left his quill and ink in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, so the two decided to take the walk back together. Somehow, their conversation landed on gossip around the school, and of course, Michael had to bring up Draco.

(Y/n), used to dodging questions by now, simply rolled their eyes. “I don’t know, did you actually join a secret army last year and not tell me about it?”

“I already told you that Harry himself didn’t want any Slytherin’s involved. How was I expected to go against the Boy Who Lived?” Michael defended himself poorly but passionately, pushing his dark hair out of his face. Suddenly, his narrowed. “But yes, I did. So does that mean you’re admitting to hanging out with the Slytherin Prince?”

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s only because we’re partners in Potions and Alchemy. Slughorn has this weird thing about classroom symmetry.”

Michael chuckled at (Y/n)’s annoyance, but continued pressing in the way that only a Ravenclaw could successfully pull off. “Then do you know what’s wrong with him? There are bets going around, and I just put down 8 Sickles on him having some rare illness that Pomfrey doesn’t know how to heal.”

“Is him being a werewolf one of the theories?”

“It was, actually,” (Y/n) snorted and Michael turned around to face them, walking backwards down the hall, “But after Padma saw him in Alchemy class during the full moon, the idea was thrown out. Seamus Finnigan lost a Galleon or two.”

“Any other ingenious ideas?”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but was bumped into abruptly by Harry Potter, walking the other way with a bewildered and shocked expression. He reeled backward and Michael apologized, but all Harry did was nod absentmindedly before continuing down the corridor, walking quickly as though trying to create some sort of distance.

“Weird.” Michael huffed, watching Potter as he retreated. The two friends shared a confused glance before continuing down the hall, and after a few steps, (Y/n) slipped on something slick.

The floors were wet with Harry Potter’s trailing footprints. (Y/n) looked at Michael and they both had the same, strange urge.

Follow them.

The two set off down the hall, neither speaking a word as they followed the trail. No one else was in the corridor but them, and the sound of rushing water filled the corridor as they got ever nearer. The footsteps led to the boys bathroom, which must have busted a pipe or two, judging by the flooding. Inside, someone was muttering a healing incantation, their voice echoing with a concentrated sort of aggression. Michael looked at (Y/n) questioningly before stepping inside, calling out.

“Hey, is everything alright in here?”

The bathroom was a disaster, but in the middle of the floor was Draco Malfoy, still and lying in a pool of his own crimson blood. Professor Snape was crouched over him, trying in vain to stop the bleeding as it drenched his shirt and dissipated into the water around him. (Y/n) stood rooted to the spot, their breath coming in short and their heart pounding their chest. They couldn’t take their eyes off of him, life ebbing away from him, the only indication that he was still alive being his laboured gasps.

They wouldn’t sustain him for long.

“Get. Out.” Snape looked at the two with a ferocity and Michael turned to leave, tugging on (Y/n)’s arm with an expression that was seemingly everything at once - pouring forth from busted pipes, flowing down the corridors...

For a moment, (Y/n) didn’t feel in control of their own limbs. Michael called their name, an urgency lacing his tone, and (Y/n) blinked. Once, twice, three times. The world came into focus. They shook their head. 

“Go,” they whispered, and it only took a precisely aimed stare to get Michael to disappear.

Snapped out of their daze, (Y/n) rushed forward, kneeling beside Draco and ignoring the professors command to leave. Their hands shook as the pulled their wand out from their newly soaked bag, but they uttered a healing spell under their breath - something they had created in their fourth year - praying to Merlin that Draco would live.

Snape stared at them for a sharp moment, with a look that seemed to be knowing and confused at the same time.

Together, the blood that they were kneeling in made its way back into Draco’s body, but the wound - a deep gash on his abdomen - still wouldn’t close. When Snape said he needed to take Draco to the Hospital Wing, (Y/n)’s clothes were drenched and their face was damp with tears they hadn’t realized they wept.

(Y/n) trailed after the professor, not caring they were missing class, their mind still hyper focused on Drac’s survival. They had never seen so much blood outside the body. And with him lying on the flooded floor... how much had escaped him? He would have bleed out, had noone arrived sooner...

Madam Pomfrey didn’t allow (Y/n) to hover while she worked, so the Slytherin sat outside the heavy doors, still dripping with water but not caring as they tried to calm their breathing. They would be waiting outside when Pomfrey finally allowed visitors, and when they Draco again, they couldn’t afford to let their fear show so plainly.

Slowly, their body returned to something fit for survival - worried but functional. Their heart rate was erratic, and their jaw no longer trembled. (Y/n) dried themselves off and waited, sliding down the wall until they sat with their back pressed against it.

They wouldn’t leave until they knew Draco was okay. They couldn’t leave him.

Not like this.

Snape was allowed to wait inside, possibly helping the Healer, and two agonizing hours later, the doors opened and the professor stepped out. His robes swished about him and despite everything, he still carried his usual composed confidence. The Slytherin Head of House turned and fixed (Y/n) with a stare that left them feeling vulnerable - as though any secret they ever had had just been told, without uttering a word. For a brief moment, (Y/n) wondered if professor Snape was a legilimens, or if they were just shaken, still.

But then another thought crossed their mind. ‘Did it matter?’

“You can go in.”

(Y/n) was inside the infirmary before Snape had time to turn away.

The Hospital Wing was silent, and their hurried steps echoed in a way that made their heart beat louder their chest. Madam Pomfrey didn’t look surprised to see them, just apologetic. “He’s unconscious for now. It should wear off in 20 minutes or so. He’ll be fine.” She pointed to a nearby chair and (Y/n) pulled it up, sitting at Draco’s side and eyeing him closely.

After seven months of spending nearly every waking moment together, (Y/n) knew Draco Malfoy better than anyone else. They knew all that he had once been and all he became.

(Y/n) knew the toll that his secrets took,  and how unrelenting they were as they tore at everything Draco was. Harry must’ve known, too. He must have sensed it - maybe all those months ago, when he looked at him in Potions as though ready to duel. But to nearly kill Draco?

(Y/n) didn’t know what had happened - or just who Harry Potter was. But they couldn’t believe something like was intentional.

(Y/n) had to believe Harry didn’t know what he did.

This war made monsters of them all, but did the best of them have to succumb to its dangers? Did everyone in this world have to get twisted and suffer so? They were all innocents, and yet they slaughtered each other like enemies. Did none of them shed tears?

There were many more terrors to come, and (Y/n) had to believe that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, would be strong enough and kind enough to forgive them. Sometimes this world leaves you without a choice; sometimes it leaves children to nothing but ruins. (Y/n) was just a child, and they didn’t know who to save or even how to do so.

But they did know a few things. A simple, handful of facts that would have to be enough to get them through.

Across the room, Madam Pomfrey took her leave, wandering to the back office where she kept many of her potions.

Despite everything, Draco looked peaceful as he slept - something (Y/n) had never seen, despite the two dozing off plenty of times while working together. He was always in turmoil, no matter his conscious state. So to see him so still was unnerving; it was almost as though he had finally given up.

(Y/n) noticed the sleeves of his shirt had ridden up, and before they could reach out to fix them for him, they noticed the end of a curling tattoo on his inner, left arm. They stared at it for a moment, the curling end of a snake, sitting inside of a skull. (Y/n) considered it, expecting fear to grip their heart but feeling something like sympathy, instead.

They already knew, deep down, what was branded there. They had known for a while. It wasn’t a revelation, and part of them didn’t want to reach out and expose the rest of the tattoo. Did they need to confirm it, now? It was silly, the idea that seeing it would make it more real.

They saw it every day in the way in hands shook, or in the anger in his eyes. They didn’t need to see a tattoo to know what Draco Malfoy had been branded. Sometimes, (Y/n) believed that the ink on his skin didn’t make him different, at all.

How quickly they had grown to trust him. And yet, how quickly he revealed himself, when the two of them were the only souls still awake and bleeding.

(Y/n) pushed the rest of the sleeve down, covering the exposed skin. A cold hand grabbed their own.

Draco stared at them, grey eyes alert and panicked. For a moment, he didn’t seem to breathe. (Y/n) pulled away and his grip went slack, his expression still torn and frozen in place, the only difference being the tears that were welling in his eyes.

“It’s alright, Draco.” He was running from a catastrophe, these days. He seemed to live in the fallout of terrible revelations. A younger Draco wouldn’t recognize him, if he could see himself, now. “I already knew.” Draco tried to scoff, but it came out a sob. Did it somehow hurt worse, the admission of knowledge rather than a sudden reveal? Did it paint him, to realize he had been known all along?(Y/n) tried to offer a smile, but it didn’t quite meet their eyes. “You’re not the only one who’s observant.”

“Why are you helping me, then?” His voice was hoarse and unsure.

Why, indeed?

“You and your whole family will die.” Tears pricked at (Y/n)’s eyes, though whether they were of frustration or sadness, they did not know. Perhaps it was both.

“Others will die because of us,” Draco breathed the words, as though he didn’t want to admit it to even himself.

“They’d find a way inside Hogwarts somehow - nowhere’s safe. But… but if we do it this way… maybe more can be spared.”

“Everyone will die,” Draco shook his head, every emotion he had ever felt spilling over, seeping out of him like all of that blood collecting on the bathroom floor. He has been holding it in for months, and now he was letting go all of it go, bursting forth until he had nothing left. “You don’t know them like I do, we — we’re all dead.”

“Not yet,” (Y/n) wiped at their cheeks furiously, resolve making their voice strong. “We can still save most of us. It’s Dumbledore they want, isn’t it?”

Draco let out another choking sob.

“Why don’t we just tell him?”

“Don’t you see?” Draco was shaking with emotion, his face red and streaked with tears. His every word was punctuated, trembling with a mixture of anger and sadness and fear. No matter where he went, there was so much fear. “I’m the villain in their story.”

(Y/n) took in a shaky breath and put their hands in his. They were still crying, but it wasn’t for themself. “You’re not a villain, Draco. You’re just a boy,” they whispered, but the sound of it seemed to echo around them. “And we’re a brotherhood, right? So I’m here for you. Even if it is just us.”

And they cried together, two voices who’s echoes sounded like one.

xiii.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

This time, the songbird lived. It sang through the thick wood of the cabinet, it’s lonely tune bright, as though it knew spring was upon them - as though it knew nothing of the impending frost, and the death that was sure to follow. Draco and (Y/n) didn’t need to open the door to know that it worked. But they did, and the tiny, white body ruffled its feathers before flying into the sky, chirping happily as it circled the towers of lost things, alone, the last living thing inside the room.

Draco stepped back from the Cabinet, his entire being trembling. It wasn’t until (Y/n) reached out to still him that they realized they were shaking, too.

They both knew it, but neither felt they had the courage to say it.

“This is the end.” (Y/n) forgot to clear their throat.

“Of Dumbledore.” Draco turned to them, all of his life in his hands, all of his regrets on his face. His voice was thick and his eyes were dull. “But not the war. Potter may still win. Somehow… if he survives.”

Both of them knew this world wasn’t kind to survivors.

But (Y/n) held his gaze. “Will we?”

xiv.

maybe one day they will find me                                                                                 under all of this rubble.

-- taglist: @musicallisto​, @theletterhart​, @locke-writes​, @randomfandomimagine​, @brokenandheadoverheels​, @timeofmadness​, @writerdream22​, @lotsoffandomrecs​, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena​ // message me if you want to be added!

[mochikeiji]

Mishap Aroma

↠ Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

↠ Warning:tw: perverted person/anxiety attacks, astraphobia slight angst, fluffy fluff with my man.

↬ Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Even the baddest day, week, month or year can have the most sweetest taste of goodness by the end. Especially with the person you love and would scare all of these bad aura away.

⇢ Day 4: CoffeeShop AU

Misfortune— it happens at an unexpected time, event, and place. Whether you find yourself having a good day or moment or already in a tight spot, that bastard comes right in to double the penetration to your problems.

For instance, you were just finishing up your daily chores such as going to the grocery to fill in your empty fridge back home. It was all fine, there weren't much people, the line was short, the cashier was kind and patient as you counted your coins frantically. It was all fine.

And then the weather decided to be a bitch.

It started as a hot sunny day and suddenly as afternoon light peaks in the midst of your way home it started to pour. You didn't mind at first and luckily came in prepared with an umbrella and walked while humming a tune in your head peacefully. It was all alright, enjoying the cold weather and water spraying on your face like a child, that was until clouds started clashing to one another, delivering a loud roar from above that made your feet tumble a little on the ground.

You hated it.

On the corner of a building you ran and knelt down, one hand on your dominant ear, the one that was more sensitive to sound and the other having to deal with your shoulder pathetically protecting it. You searched desperately inside your bag, looking for that clear case of your that held two earplugs your mother had given you from her father. But none, you could've sworn you had two pairs of those. One for travel and one for home.

"Ah fuck, I broke them last month."

Raining season was occuring, of course you were using those earplugs before and more often. But the more it stretched when you pulled it out from your ear, it sadly broke. And the ones that were strong and still in good piece were at home. 

The pounding from your heart didn't stop with your knees wobbling from your poor position and fear. Getting home was a bit hard with the down pour. Worse was the flashing lights above and the roars of thunder. You'd be down on your knees and you wouldn't even be close home.

You panted a bit, flinching ever so suddenly at the rain ever second, predicting the possibility of a next round of thunder. Keeping your head lowered, you saw your bag lit up brightly inside. Hope flickered inside of you a little when you fished it out quickly and saw the ID message.

Akaashi:

Are you okay?

Where are you?

Do you have your earplugs?

3:33 PM

You teared up a bit in fear and touched by his concern. You only had a few people understand this phobia of yours. Some may say it was childish to fear a simple weather, that was messed up and still made you self conscious. But you were happy and comforted to have your lover tend to this fear of yours. He would always call you if ever and play a tune in the background loudly to distract you and spam you with messages.

You:

I went out to pick groceries.

I don't have.

I'm far.

3:37 PM

You screamed, but was muffled by the flash of lightning and stomping thunder. You knew your messages had few contexts, but you couldn't anymore. After counting a few seconds, you thanked yourself you only had a few things from the store and picked it up and began sprinting in the rain. Not caring how soaked you were getting and how people just stared at you in worry. You ran, praying to reach home. But even so, there were small rumbles above and it still shakens you.

Eventually, you reached a near cafe that had stairs below. It was that cafe where Akaashi and you would study back in the days when you both were in your third years in high school. It looked small since it was placed below, (like the mclarens pub) but the interior was pleasing and welcoming.

You grabbed on the railings of the stairs and carefully but quickly went down, entering the door with the small bell ringing from above. The air condition blasting throughout the cafe, your dhirt beginning to stick to your skin as you hugged your chest with one arm and hunched a bit to look like you were just freezing. Atleast the counter was empty, must be behind the other door preparing. Not many people bothered to look at the door which gave you opportunity to run to your usual spot. Beaming a little at the sight if it being empty and sat down, placing the grocery bag on the table along with your bag and sighing.

The rumbles can be heard, but not as loud as it was outside. Thighs pressed together close and arms wrapping around your cold body, you decided to wait until everything was clear. Even if it meant getting sick and looking disheveled on the corner.

This was yours and Akaashi's personal spot during study sessions. Even dating, this was where you'd celebrate occasionally. It was no surprise some of the employees knew you two, but apparently it seemed majority of them were out and the newbies were on duty. They would sometimes tease you when you would wait alone in your seat, or even Akaashi. Saying how adorable the two of you were and offering discounts during events like birthdays or anniversaries. They even got both your phone numbers and became close friends.

It was no surprise to have your body shivering in seconds despite distracting yourself with warm memories. You mentally cringed when you felt the eyes of a disgusting predator just a few tables in front of you rake through your soaked chest whilst hiding his smug expression behind his steaming hot beverage. It's only a matter of time that guy will walk up to you and have his way to your body with the few people around you who had their own worlds and the counter still empty.

The skies cracking sounds can be heard, louder than the rest of the thunders you've heard a while ago and made you yelp. The lights thag hung on the ceiling of the cafe flickered and buzzed as you tried to shell yourself away from everything when the lurk of anxiety crept in your chest.

Your whimpers were silent, and only you can hear them. The tears were slowly making their way to your eyes followed by the warmth and soft, dried clothing being placed on your shoulders and your left side being occupied by a larger body.

"I figured you'd be here."

Gasping and recognizing that gentle voice, immediately snuggling your soaked form on his dried and heated body, Akaashi snakes his arms around you with his hand cradling your neck along with soft hushes to soothe you.

"T-there was a m-man staring at me.."

His hold tightens, he instantly knew which one was bothering you from being obvious and casts him a dirty glare. Disgusting, he thought inside of his head, not breaking the stare down until the guy eventually gulped from the stoic male a few feet away and left the place.

He hears you whimper on his chest and moved his hand to your back, giving it occasional pats to tell you that it was okay and rubbing to tell you he was here now. You weep on his chest from both relief and embarrassment. Today had been quite tough and now the rumbles outside can be somewhat heard now.

You feel Akaashi's arm move but you didn't bother to loom at it thinking he was just moving it around for a good position. He doesn't mind the fact that you were soaking wet on his side, at that moment he needed to tend to your needs. He didn't want to be like other people to leave you hanging like this. You hear him cooe like you were a baby in his arms and just gave you warm hugs.

"It's okay, you're okay. I promise everything will be okay."

He knows the comforting lines you needed and what you did not wish to hear. He was cautious with his words seeing from the internet reminders how people don't like simple closed minded term or words given to them. He was sincere with his, and wasn't just something to comfort you temporarily.

The table in front of you both made a small thud sound. Blinking your tears away, you hear a small whisper from someone else and Akaashi's head nodding on top of yours. Raising your head a little, Akaashi looks down and presses a kiss on your forehead and smiles at you.

"I bought your favorite."

Your nose sniffles a bit from clogging that was now heated by the steam of your hot beverage, turning away from his chest, you saw your once empty table now occupied with two hot beverages and sweet chocolate chip cookies.

"You love these right? It's been long since we've gotten down here on such occasions."

It was true with him almost being gone 24/7 due to his work and you mostly taking care of the necessities when he was away, there wasn't enough time of weeks or even months to spend the day with him. It was a blessing in disguise that a bad day can make the two of you come back to the nostalgic place once again and finally have that moment where it was just the both of you.

"Wait, didn't you have work today?"

Akaashi took a note of your dampened features and placed a hand on your cheek to wipe away the tears softly.

"I told my co workers that I needed to head home immediately when I heard a loud thunder."

Looking back down then at the table filled with untouched food, you began to feel guilty to be having to pull him down from his work. You didn't expect him to actually run out of his office just to tend to your fears and comfort you. You felt like a child next to him— a spoiled one.

"I'm sorry..I'll pay you back."

He feels you try to pull away from his embrace, but as coincidence strikes again, a loud crack was heard from above, yet you still try to pull away from his hold even though you were obviously shaking in fear. He wasn't going to have this, instead of letting you go free, he yanks you back to his chest with a small sound escaping your lips from the impact and his hand firmly placed on your back.

"No you're not, I know what you're thinking and no, none of this is on you, love."

Always been quite the observer, you thought as you fought back the tingling smile on your face. You wondered how can a guy like him exist in this world and how you even managed yo make him yours and you his. Not a single negative feeling goes unnoticed by him everyday even if he was occupied by his own work and needs, he would always be looking after whats more important.

"I love you, hm? It's only natural I tend to the person I love. I'd be an ass if I just left you after what you've gave me throughout the years. It's a give-give relationship, sweetie. I just want you happy and safe."

Eyes held the most sincere look in them. You thanked the heavens and his parents for making such a beautiful human. His hands started to move around your body a bit to make you turn back around to your now warm treats. Even though you were slightly soaking, he held you none the less on his lap and presses a kiss on your cheek as you grabbed your own beverage.

It's not everyday Akaashi has gotten an opportunity to commence PDA, but there weren't much people other than the smiling woman by the counter who had given him his order. She thought it was adorable seeing you both a minute ago during comforting you.

Munching on the cookie, Akaashi took a sip on his coffee with his free hand rubbing your belly instinctively. He's grown a habit of rubbing any part of your body he can touch, knowing how you loved the skin to skin affection. The same implies to him as he secretly smiles through his cup when he feels your stomach grumble.

The day may have been bad, unexpected. But more on unexpectedly good in the end. You always believed that after a bad day, there was always going to be good. But not a day, either a week of goodness or a month. Because after sharing this day with him, the next day he had announced he was given a week off after finishing a lot of his projects.

But for now, you snuggled deeper in his hold as you blew your drink, looking up carefully to place a kiss on his jaw that made his heart flutter and him stop chewing on his own food.

A little caffeine tastes sweeter after a mishap.